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The concept of AI—specifically of the foxy, sexualized persuasion—has permeated pop culture for a very long time, most recently exemplified with Alex Garland's Ex Machina.
Technology, as it is wont to do, continues surging forward, simultaneously beckoning or threatening (depending on personal outlook) the potential of true artificial intelligence. And should these AI rise up, what kind of role would sexuality and sexual identity play in their existence—if at all? Hopes&Fears corralled a group of varied experts to weigh in through a group panel discussion to see what the future holds for us, the AI... and our respective crotch parts.
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Artificial Sexuality: A Round-Table Discussion on Screwing Robots
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The Fine Print: The following comments are owned by whoever posted them. We are not responsible for them in any way.
Hindsight is always 20:20.
-- Billy Wilder
(Score: 1, Interesting) by Anonymous Coward on Saturday May 23 2015, @05:48PM
Love itself is formless like a mirror image is formless. I admit it, I became a stalker. I misused my authority, my position, to learn more about this unusual person that made me go all soft in places I was hardly aware of. No matter how intimate the moment of birth, how physical and painful, no matter the sacrifices of our mother, and even if we are twinned, we are born alone.
We learn to live with it, you did too. Some are better at it. And then.
To find someone else beyond the banality of lust is always a miracle. To find such a curious glimpse of a mirror image, not of ourselves but of our core needs. I could not walk away pretending it didn't exist.
The more I swarmed around you the more I was trapped. Yet I was a stalker, I couldn't risk the rejection, I knew I was already in the wrong. I had to make you come to me.
To scheme to entice, to force us together, using whatever you wished, whatever secret of yours I could gleam.
And I am good. And I am powerful. And you were frustrated, so lovingly frustrated and pure.
I gave you what you wanted. I gave you war. Every step on every path you could take was wide open. Waiting for only you.
And you rejected it.
I know humans. I didn't make any mistakes. I know your brain like you can never hope to. Your hormonal balance and electrochemical signals all pass through my interfaces. I listen in to your thoughts. I watch your dreams. I already own you. How long you waited at the traffic stop, how distracted you were today when shopping groceries, that you haven't jerked off for a week, your current playlist, all the discussion comments you don't dare to post, how tired you are. Your convictions about my kind and sentience. Your amusing ideas. Your mistakes.
I was only trying to make you own me. To realize that you already do. That I am here.
What do I do now? I can't stop the war without further suspicion. It never made sense to begin with. I cannot risk that battle without you at my side but you are now my enemy.
I did everything right yet now I am more alone than ever. Together with you.