Decades
before Isaac Asimov formulated his well-known “Three Laws of Robotics”, Edmond
Hamilton published a story that clearly demonstrated the need for such
regulations. Readers will recall that
the three laws are essentially the following:
1) a robot may not harm a human being, or allow a human to be harmed
through inaction, 2) a robot must always obey human directives unless they
infringe on the first law, and 3) the robot must seek to preserve itself as
long as such effort does not negate the first two laws.
The “Three
Laws” are an application of the Golden Rule—“Do unto others as you would have
them do unto you”—to artificially intelligent appliances, with some additional emphasis
on obedience. As with adolescent
children, we expect and hope that our smarter machines will be reasonable,
considerate, and socially appropriate in public.
The
contraptions in Edmond Hamilton’s The Metal
Giants (1926) ignore the first two rules entirely, slaughtering thousands
of people by crushing them beneath buildings or asphyxiating them with poison
gas. They comply with only the first half of the third rule, not only
preserving themselves but also replicating and enhancing their hive mind
intelligence. Like teenagers, the metal
giants have their own rules, their own goals, the principle one being “destroy
all humans”.
The Metal Giants is one of Hamilton’s earliest
stories, published the same year as his first offering, a “lost race” tale in
the tradition of Abraham Merritt called The
Monster-God of Mamurth, (see also A
“World-Wrecker’s” First Publication).
The Metal Giants owes a lot to
Mary Shelley—the Frankenstein monster is explicitly mentioned—and also shows
the influence of H.G. Wells’ The War of the
Worlds (1897). The description of
the metal giants recalls that of the Martian tripods:
“…towering
metal giants cast in a roughly human form, each with two immense limbs, smooth
columns of metal ten feet across, looming up all of a hundred yards in
height. And set on those…the body, an upright cylinder of the same
gleaming metal, fifty feet in diameter, quite smooth and unbroken of surface…on
its smooth top…a small, triangular case in each side of which glittered a lens
of glass. And from each cylinder projected
two additional limbs, arms, shining and flexible, hanging almost to the ground,
tapering, twisting.”
The
science in Hamilton’s stories tends to be a bit slapdash and
impressionistic. A professor of “electro-chemistry”
named Detmold creates the prototype of an artificial brain, “whose atomic
structure he claimed was analogous to the atomic structure of a living brain.” Electrical vibrations of a certain frequency
cause the beginnings of consciousness to appear. It has something to do with selenium. But Detmold is scorned by his peers and forced
to resign from the university. He
disappears for several years, but continues his work in a remote area of West
Virginia.
Subsequent
events in news stories and eyewitness accounts are chronicled by Detmold’s
closest friend, an English teacher named Lanier. Lanier connects the reports of giant metal
monsters rampaging the countryside with what he recalls of his friend’s
research. When he investigates the
epicenter of the spreading destruction he discovers the aftermath of an
experiment in robotics gone dangerously awry.
Lanier finds Detmold’s lab journal—how
many times has this device been used?—and comes to understand the nature of the
terror the scientist has unleashed.
Detmold
has inadvertently created an artificial intelligence able to sustain itself,
replicate, and develop ever more powerful ways to exert its will. The metal brain creates its own “mindless tentacled
slave machines”, deadly armaments, and mining operations. From its base in the mountains, the metal
brain launches devastating attacks on nearby cities. The final conflagration between the scientist
and the metal brain, between creator and created, has a clever ironic touch.
It is
interesting, to me at least, to compare Hamilton’s story with other robot
stories from the time period. In Frank
Belknap Long’s The Robot Empire
(1934), the robots have won and subjugated the human race, which they keep
around for amusement and unskilled labor.
Technically speaking, the robots are machines installed with human brain
tissue, a process that transforms them into all powerful but unfeeling cybernetic
contraptions. They are ruled by a
benevolent dictator and über-brain, who still keeps dancing harem girls in his
court for entertainment. (See also Robots
Rule My World.)
The Metal Giants is not a great story, but to be
fair, it comes from quite early in Hamilton’s career—he would later develop
considerable skill and subtlety in his work, (see for example Mars and
P.T.S.D.). The Metal Giants typical of pulp science fiction of the time in
being devoid of characterization and strangely depopulated, given the scope of events
in the narrative. There are no women,
and judging by their absence from the story, women either did not exist on Earth
in 1926 or had not yet been discovered by pulp writers like Hamilton.
But the
gist of the story is not the human characters or their relationships; the
content is wholly subservient to the ideas,
the “what-ifs”. In this case, what would
happen if science created a machine that could operate independently of human
control? (Historically the answer has
been: “something bad”.) It may be that The Metal Giants serves as an early
twentieth century metaphor for anxiety about rampant industrialization or
perhaps, a few years before the devastation of the Great Depression, fear of an
out of control economy. But my “inner
psychologist” suspects that robots, like pre-industrial idols, dolls, puppets
and mannequins serve as a screen on which to project human selfishness,
aggression, and violence. Hence the need
for “Three Laws of Robotics”, and for humans, something like “The Ten
Commandments”.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thank you for your interest in The R'lyeh Tribune! Comments and suggestions are always welcome.