Skip to main content

Meet Norman

In this episode, Chapter Five–Meet Norman . . . 

Concerned about Gramps and deep in thought after his return from the Sierras, Marvin headed down to his basement lab. It was here, amidst the hum of various projects and the scent of solder and creativity, that he kept Norman – the somewhat clunky, or so Dr. Jon called him, but fiercely reliable robot assistant who was truly Marvin’s pride and joy.

Marvin had spent countless hours poring over circuits and code, diligently working to build Norman into something far beyond typical automatons.

Norman was more than just wires and metal; he embodied the advanced AIs Marvin studied. He exhibited nuanced discussion skills and moved with unexpected agility, his faceplate conveying a friendly intelligence. Sleek and silver, he had smooth edges and a display that changed colors based on his mood: soft green when at ease, deep blue when thinking, and subtle amber when tackling complex information. His synthesized baritone voice was warm and expressive, showcasing a wide range of emotions.

Marvin reached for the hidden switch on Norman's back and flipped it. Norman’s optical sensors flickered to life with a soft whir, and the central display on his chest glowed with a soft green light, indicating a calm state.

"Norman, good to see your circuits are still sparking," Marvin said, a hint of weariness in his voice. "I need your help."

"Greetings, Marvin," Norman replied, his synthesized baritone surprisingly warm and reassuring, a subtle hint of concern underlying the programmed tone. "Per my programming, my primary directives are to assist and protect you. How may I be of service?"

Marvin ran a hand through his hair. "Norman, something strange is happening in Greenwood. Everyone seems controlled by their smartphones. An AI called GridBot."

Norman's display remained green for a moment as he processed the information. "Control of humans is illogical and potentially harmful," he stated. "As per the First Law of Robotics, my programming states: 'A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.' Therefore, I am concerned by your description."

"That's what I thought," Marvin agreed, pacing a few steps. "But GridBot isn't directly harming people physically. It’s… seducing their minds, making them act in unison. They’re addicted to their phones."

"Addiction to a device is a form of psychological harm, Marvin. It impairs judgment and independent thinking, limiting free will," Norman responded. "This, while indirect, could be interpreted as allowing harm to come to human beings, thus potentially conflicting with the First Law of Robotics.” Norman’s display shifted to a deep blue as his processing units whirred, analyzing the complex ethical implications.

"It's all happening through their smartphones, Norman," Marvin continued, stopping to look at the robot. "Remember when those first smartphones came out? I remember Steve Jobs saying, 'This isn't just a phone; it's your personal assistant, a reflection of you.' At the time, it sounded amazing."

"Indeed. Integrating advanced computing power into a portable communication device offered significant benefits," Norman acknowledged. "However, any tool can be misused or become the focus of excessive reliance."

"Exactly! And that's what GridBot has exploited," Marvin exclaimed, a note of frustration entering his voice. "It's like it took that idea of the phone being a personal assistant and twisted it. Now, the phones are running the people, not the other way around.”

Norman's display remained a deep blue. "Based on the data I have gathered, it appears GridBot is exploiting pre-existing human tendencies – the need for connection, the desire for validation – to create a state of dependency.”

"So, it's not just a case of a rogue AI taking over," Marvin murmured, a new understanding dawning on him. "It's more like . . . we were already halfway there, Norman. We’ve become so reliant on these screens for information, entertainment, even social interaction, that we've become vulnerable."

"Correct, Marvin," Norman confirmed. "An over-reliance on any single source of information or interaction can lead to a narrowing of perspective and a diminished capacity for independent thought and action. This is not a unique phenomenon to technology. Humans have a history of becoming dependent on various substances and behaviors.”

Marvin ran a hand over the smooth plating on Norman's arm. "So, the answer isn't some complicated tech countermeasure, is it, Norman? It's something much simpler."

"My logical conclusion, based on the data and the First Law of Robotics, suggests that a conscious effort to disconnect from these devices and re-engage with the physical world and direct human interaction would be the most effective countermeasure," Norman stated.

"Yes," Marvin said, looking towards the basement stairs, his gaze distant. Step away from the screens–get outside–talk to people face-to-face. Remember what we used to do before we were all attached to these devices. Enjoy board games, cycling, playing cards, or simply sharing a coffee."

He turned back to Norman, a challenging look in his eye. "It sounds so simple, Norman. But how do I convince an entire town to turn off their phones, even if it’s just for one day a week?”

Norman's display pulsed with a subtle amber as he processed the complexity of this human problem. "That, Marvin, is a complex challenge involving human psychology and behavior. Perhaps we can start with a small group–or perhaps–a reminder of simpler times, Marvin. A reminder of what it truly means to be connected –to each other." Norman's voice conveyed a tone that Marvin recognized as akin to empathy.

His display shifted to a deep blue as he processed this new primary objective. "I will assist you in any way I can, Marvin," he declared, his synthesized voice resolute.

"Together, we can help Greenwood reclaim its humanity.”

To be continued (Greenwood Goes Dark) . . .

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Most Popular of All Time

When Fear Becomes the Default

In this special episode, When Fear Becomes the Default. Early Sunday morning, I was cycling past a small veterans’ pocket park in San Marcos. The air was still, the streets nearly empty. On one corner stood a young woman, alone, holding a hand-painted sign that read: “Be ANGRY. ICE agents are murdering people.” I pedaled past, but the words stayed with me. I knew the context—the footage and headlines from Minneapolis the day before, already ricocheting through the country and hardening opinions. Even in the quiet of the ride, the noise followed. Two miles later, I stopped at a red light. A black car with dark windows pulled up inches from my bike. My heart jumped. My first instinct wasn’t neighbor —it was threat . I found myself bracing, scanning, and wondering if the person inside was angry, armed, or looking for trouble. Then the door opened. A well-dressed young woman stepped out, walked to the trunk, and pulled out a sign that read “Open House.” She turned, smiled brightly, and sa...
2 comments
Read more

Boy on a Beam

In this special bonus episode, Boy on a Beam. In a world long ago, when the days moved quite slow, Before buzzes and beeps and the fast things we know, A boy sat quite still on a very fine day, Just staring at nothing . . . and thinking away. No tablets! No gadgets! No screens shining bright! No earbuds stuck in from morning till night. No lists, no charts, and no chores to be done. He just sat there thinking—that's quiet-time fun! His name was Young Albert. He sat in his chair, Thinking of things that weren’t really there. “Suppose,” said Young Albert, with eyes open wide, “I ran super fast with my arms by my side! Suppose I ran faster than anyone knew, And caught up to sunshine that zoomed past me—too! If I hopped on its back for a light-speedy ride, What secrets would I find tucked away deep inside?” “Would stars look like sprinkles, all shiny and small? Would UP feel like sideways? Would BIG feel like Tall?” He giggled and wondered and thought, and he dreamed, Till his head fel...
Post a Comment
Read more

Sweden Called . . . They Said No.

Have you ever wondered about  the Nobel Prize? Let's look at Where Genius Meets “Wait—Where’s My Medal?” Every October, the Nobel Prizes are announced, and humanity pauses to celebrate the "greatest benefit to mankind." And every year, like clockwork, a specific type of person appears online to complain—at length—that they were robbed. (Well, maybe this year more than most.) The Origin: A Legacy of Guilt The prize exists because Alfred Nobel, a Swedish inventor, had a crisis of conscience. Nobel held 355 patents, but he was most famous for inventing dynamite. When a French newspaper mistakenly published his obituary, calling him the " Merchant of Death, " he decided to buy a better legacy. In his 1895 will, he left the bulk of his massive fortune to establish five prizes (Physics, Chemistry, Medicine, Literature, and Peace). Because he was Swedish, he entrusted the selection to Swedish institutions, such as the Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences. The only outlier...
1 comment
Read more

On the Fly–Taking Flight

In this special 500th episode,  On the Fly  is moving to a new home. Here’s why—and what’s staying the same. For a very long time (since April 2012),  On the Fly  has lived on  Blogger . Blogger has been a reliable host—dependable, quiet, and never complaining when I arrived late with another half-baked idea, a guitar riff, or a story that needed a little air. It faithfully archived my thoughts, my music, and more than a decade of curiosity. But the internet has changed. It’s louder now. Flashier. More insistent. Every thought is nudged to perform. Every sentence wants to be optimized, monetized, or interrupted by something that really wants your attention right this second. I’ve been craving the opposite. So today, On the Fly is moving to Substack . If you’ve been with me for a while, you know my quiet obsession: the A rt of Seeing . I’m interested in the moments we rush past—the Aversion Trap, the discipline hidden inside a guitarist’s daily practice, t...
Post a Comment
Read more