Back in 1975 (or so), I took an alternate English class. It was a creative writing class. I decided to do this since the 1st semester English class just about did me in - as they are supposed to do back then - make your 1st year a living hell to jar you awake that you really weren't in Kansas anymore.
I had to get prior permission from the professor. So I met with the professor and we got to know eachother. I always felt I had a knack for the soft side and I guess the professor thought so, too. He approved my request and I was in.
The course was fun and the professor was actually very good. The good news was if you had a split infinitive in a sentence you weren't automatically given an "F" on your paper.
There was really no bad news. The professor would read some of the poems outloud and give his opinion.
I don't recall, but it was probably near the end of the semester (or maybe not - this was a long time ago) the professor assigned us all to write a short story.
My story was so good, the professor read it aloud to the class. When I got it back, the professor wrote a comment on it saying "your story was more poetic than your poetry". I had gotten an "A". Or maybe it was a B+. I am pretty sure back then, only super-geniuses were graced with the top grade.
Unfortunately, that paper is lost to the wind. But I will retell it the best I can recall. You see, back in 1975 or 1976 I wrote a short story about Artificial Intelligence.
Now, the phrase was not used in the story. It was called simply "The Computer". Mainly, my background by this time was two years as a computer operator. The two places I worked had what we would call a mini-computer. Here is a photo of the computer I operated - the accounting firm Clarkson, Harden and Gantt had two of these. They were called the Honeywell H200 series. There was no hard drive on these. They each had a "massive" 16K of memory, four tape drives, card reader and and a very zippy printer - we even had a paper tape reader (straight ahead to the right of the four tape readers). Below is an actual photo of the computers I operated.
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| The Billion Dollar Brain - Honeywell H200 Computer |
Jim was a computer operator at a small firm. He was aware of the fact that they had some new operating system installed on their computer. But he was getting frustrated. He would give verbal commands and she would not respond. Exasperated, he went to the Chief Operations office and vented a little.
The CO understood and gently reminded Jim they had a new operating system installed that they had to "teach" or "train".
To assist the computer to learn, they would have a radio playing after hours. The computer would listen to it and later ask Jim what this or that was about. As time went on, the computer seemed to understand that Jim appeared to have a general understanding of what she was was hearing.
Regarding the computer's responses, they were all via teletype. In essence, the computer could only print out its queries and responses.
Jim's wife didn't help. She was a brow-beater and kept insisting he quit and get a higher paying job.
One day, the computer asked about some music she listened to. Jim explained that what she was listening to was an "opera". And this opera was called "Madam Butterfly".
The computer asked him to explain the plot. Jim gave a short summary. A young Japanese woman whose nickname was "Madam Butterfly" fell in love and married an American Naval Captain. He had to go back to America and vowed to return. Waiting in vain, and when all looked hopeless, she killed herself. The US Naval Captain does return only to find her dead.
Of course, there's more to this story, but these were the "cliff notes" and Jim didn't want to get into the "Soap Opera" of it all.
Then out of the blue, the computer says to Jim "I love you". But Jim doesn't even respond.
Several days later, Jim finally did find a new job and his wife was overjoyed. The next day he went to work and submits his resignation effective immediately. Of course, his boss was not happy.
Jim goes into the computer and tells her goodbye. But now there is silence. Nothing. This sort of miffed Jim.
Jim gets in his car and drives home but with the computer's silence he was trying to work through his frustration. Then he recalled the computer asking about the opera Madam Butterfly. Then Jim's imagination took off. Would - or even more central - COULD a computer kill itself? Jim didn't know what to do. Well, he did a quick U-turn squealing tires and took off back to the office to make sure the computer wouldn't do herself in.
The scene cuts to a gravesite funeral. Jim's wife is dressed in black. Someone explains that Jim died in a car accident. He had lost control of his car and was killed. A couple of former fellow employees were talking about poor Jim and how he was such a great guy.
And then one of them says: "Well, the eulogy was quite nice. I'll miss Jim"
Then the other says: "Hey, ya know the computer wrote that eulogy."
The other replied: "Ya don't say?"
The end.
The basic moral of the story was that computers are souless machines. They are incapable of true emotion. But real humans, as portayed in the opera Madam Butterfly - which is starkly to the complete opposite of any computer - will in many instances experience such extreme emotion that to them at the time is more than they could ever bear or endure. The emotional pain is so extreme that to them, the only solution to stop it is to kill one's self. Would the person be justified in such a measure? That is beside the point. When they peer as far as they can, they see...nothing but pain and grief. There is nothing beyond that.
I worked as a clerk in an emergency room for a couple of years. If you want to see real life, I highly recommend you work in an ER. The level of anguish you will see will curl your hair and pierce your soul. No computer will ever ever ever be able to know what that is truly like.
There is no soul there to pierce.
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