Toe in the Water

The Ghost in the Machine

The Ghost in the Machine

Do you talk to machines? I do. And I don't mean the Google light switcher, as previously discussed. She answers back by repeating what you said and we all know that is one of the most infantile and irritating things in the universe. No, I meant something a bit more like conversation.

It’s almost as though this is the latest craze, now that AI’s arrival has been announced and trumpeted. But AI has been around in various forms for a few years now (although it might not have been called that) and it’s still not what I’m talking about. In fact, I don’t know any truly AI machines so I have very little to say in that regard.

It’s the machines that have been around for decades that I talk to. Most of us have, either habitually or on occasion, spoken to our cars. Some even answer by connecting you to a call service somewhere. But how many of us actually speak machine? That’s what I do.

Years ago, it used to be called mechanical sympathy. It’s that sense that makes one empathise with the pain machines are sometimes put through. Professional drivers, racers and rally drivers, know this intimately. Some amongst them can nurse a car through its ailments and bring it home safe and sound. Others are such hard taskmasters that their cars go on strike and refuse to move any farther. And it’s all because of mechanical sympathy.

This is what makes one wince when someone clashes the gears or feathers the accelerator unnecessarily. And it also brings about conversations with the machine. We talk to them.

I once worked in a project attempting to civilise teenagers who had been excluded from school. Part of my job was to attend to the aging computers owned by the project and to keep them running. There was never any money to buy new machines so I begged and stole newer ones from other departments. And that was when I realised that talking to the machines was regarded as eccentric by other employees of the firm.

But I had to. It was the only way to keep them going. And I knew from experience that only a well treated computer works without tricks and refusals to continue. This was in the days of Windows 3, so they all knew plenty of ways to frustrate humankind. I gave them names, those computers, and conducted quiet conversations with them, to make up for the way the kids mishandled them.

I spoke to printers, too, quite openly, but never swore at them as I’ve seen others do. Yes, they are the most cussed and rebellious of all machines, but even they respond to a soft word and forgiveness. Just a little understanding and they’ll give you what you’re asking for.

In fact, I speak to all sorts of machines, though some don’t need it and others are not the best conversationalists. Toasters, for instance, have very little to say and will serve you faithfully until the day they die. They don’t actually need talking to. But it passes the time while the bread is being toasted.

The main point is that it doesn’t hurt to speak to machines. Have a little mechanical sympathy and they might even talk back to you. And you’ll be happier in your work.

Anyway, I must stop now. The keyboard is getting a bit fed up with my pounding at the keys.

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