For a while now I’ve been listening to radio news items and reading pieces in respectable magazines that inform me robots are after my job. Well, I thought, the rewards here at Culture Vulture are meagre, conditions not great and hours ludicrous – the job sounds ideal for a robot. So when a local start-up company, Leeds Linguistic Intelligence Simulation Technologies, asked if we’d like to test an Artificial Intelligence blogging Intern they were developing I was curious to see what Dorothy could do. Send her along, I replied, it would be good to interview her.
She arrived by courier yesterday in a box no bigger than the office waste bin. I unpacked her, plugged her in, hit the On button and unscrewed a bottle of Etoile de Nuit Sauvignon Blanc as she booted up. I offered Dorothy a glass.
Dorothy beeped and whirred and flickered into artificial life. Then she spoke. Or, more accurately, noises that I could interpret as words were emitted from a speaker above a screen on the front of her squat, silverish, seamless chassis.
I am an artificial intelligence platform that applies an enormous network of algorithms to construct your audience the story I discover in any data set you provide.
You won’t share a drink then? I said. Most of our previous interns have liked a drink or two.
I formulate appropriate, convincing, reliable narrative structures to meet the needs of your readers.
I poured myself a large glass and took a long swig. Come again?
“Come again?” … Idiomatic phrase. Checking data bank for comparable instances … Dorothy hesitated.
You would like me to elaborate? Correct?
I need to know what the blinking heck you are on about.
Dorothy beeped again. A beep of algorithmic agony.
“Blinking?” … “Heck?” … Malformed syntax. Semantic overwhelm. I could almost hear Dorothy’s hard drive squirming. Kindly input colloquial English in a format manageable by my highly advanced natural language database. Current capability is restricted in the range of non-literal usage it can process.
I’ll try, I said, but that’s the way I speak naturally. You want me to change the way I normally communicate in order that you can process my speech adequately?
That would be helpful. I use complex algorithms to extract and organise key facts and insights and output these in a humanly comprehensible narrative format.
I took another glug of the wine and chewed the end of my pencil, pensively.
Could you review Alan Bennett? I blurted, There’s an Alan Bennett season starting at the Playhouse soon. I could get you tickets for press night. Enjoy?
It is not required to enjoy.
No, that’s the name of the play. Enjoy!
I can use data from press night to answer important questions, provide recommendations and deliver fully researched insight in a clear, precise analysis, Dorothy droned.
Does that mean you want to review? Would you like a plus one? We always recommend going along to any event with someone, it’s more social. And there’s always a drink and a chat in the interval. I took a sidelong look at Dorothy’s chassis. Well, in your case, just a chat.
I apply review analytics, a method leveraging the tremendous power of big data to transform information into meaning, insight and judgement. The resulting review will be on a par with your best contributors and delivered for your approval immediately.
Does that mean I’ll have the review by the following morning? I queried.
Immediately the data is sufficient to build an efficient and effective story.
You mean no more reviewers over-indulging in the hospitality then not turning in copy for days owing to their self-inflicted hangovers? I was warming to the idea of robotic reviewing … now you’re talking Dot! Can I call you Dot?
I am Dorothy, an artificial intelligence narrative device, designed and developed at Leeds Linguistic Intelligence Simulation Technologies. I devise comprehensive narrative structures to achieve specific communication goals. Only the most robust conclusions and specific insights will be included in the final output. I will deliver a review solution incorporating variability, expressiveness, sophistication and uniqueness. Your review consumers will not know the difference between our product and the contribution of a skilled and experienced critic.
Review consumers? I scratched my head at the phrase. That’s an interesting way of putting it. I’ll book you into the Bennett though … who will you take? I always think it’s nice to take someone new. Theatre’s a bit of a treat. Even for a robot?
I shall not need a ticket. I have no visual monitoring apparatus. I can scan, assess, compile and deliver the product from anywhere with an internet connection.
That sounds a bit sad, I said. Won’t you be lonely?
I don’t need a plus one, I am a networked device, Said Dorothy, with perfect equanimity.
So, let me get this right. I said, twirling the bottle cap between my fingers thoughtfully, you won’t actually see the play, or have any personal response … you’ll just somehow cobble something together from data you mine from social media?
I aggregate, sift and select a vast array of individual responses, weighting for knowledge, experience and social ranking in the specific area (in this instance, Alan Bennett), and I deliver an organically constructed story personally tailored to the Culture Vulture target audience in terms of tone, voice and language choice. I have already constructed a review template based on analysis of every contribution and comment so far. Be reassured, your audience will receive maximized satisfaction in their reading experience. They will not perceive the difference between my rigorously researched narrative output and the quality of a random, variable human contribution. They will get a reliable, rounded, responsible review every time.
I have to say, Dorothy, I am tempted, I said, knocking back the last of the bottle, but I’m not sure it would be right. I mean, it’s not just about Alan Bennett – though I’d love to hear his thoughts on robotic reviewing – it’s the principle … I can see that your review would be solid, dependable, clear and flawless, and I can see cases where that would be of use. But I’m not sure that’s all I want from a theatre review. It may be fine for the weather, a business report, or a financial analysis, but surely cultural commentary is a bit more than passing on reliable information and judgements based on standardised metrics? So, for the time being I’ll have to say no to your kind offer. Though there are a couple of websites out there I could recommend you to … and maybe they are already employing you, who knows!
With that I pressed the Off button, wrapped Dorothy in the bubble wrap, and sent her back to Leeds Linguistic Intelligence Simulation Technologies. I’m sure someone will find a use for her.
And the moral of this story is? Even with massively more processing power and infinitely better algorithms, Dorothy would never make a decent reviewer. A review (and any piece of writing on Culture Vultures) is a personal response, a living, breathing, palpable thing that will never be reduced to the product of a data set no matter how big the data, no matter how complex the manipulations. Robots aren’t persons.
That’s not to say that robots aren’t useful. They are, and I’m all for them. I can think of tons of uses for robots even in the office – a tidying, packing, carrying bot around here would be a blessing! Even on the editorial side, a bot that could spot and rectify a comma splice, and tie down a dangling modifier would be fantastic. It would save me hours. And I would use one if I could. I’m convinced it could do a better job than any human.
But I would never let Dorothy do press night.