Building Bonds

Humans have a distinct tendency to read personality into things. A mild example is the love people have for their pets, especially animals like snakes that don't have the same capacity for affectionate interaction that humans do. But they can recognize a beneficial environment, and their owner can pick up on their habits and mannerisms, building a perception of personality off of those. More dramatically, caring for a plant; something that relies on regular interaction to grow is emotionally compelling. We, even the more introverted among us, have an innate need for interaction that extends to everything in our environment. A malfunctioning computer is purposefully causing trouble, a crackling fire is cheerful, a Roomba that keeps bumping into furniture is confused.

I recall that once, upon moving into a new house, I harbored an intense feeling that the house disliked me. There was nothing cold or unwelcoming about it, physically, but for a while I couldn't be comfortable in it. The house itself was a creature eyeing me disapprovingly.

An artificial creature has, at the very least, something recognizable in it. A pattern we can pick up and extrapolate on. And, I would argue, enough straying from that pattern to emulate a living creature. A dishwasher, say, has never been subjectified as far as I can recall, because it does one task very consistently and reliably. Each one has quirks, but they're rarely notable. Even when they break, the necessity of having them repaired only throws into sharp relief their mechanical innards. In general, I would argue that when one knows how the inside of something robotic works or looks, it grows harder to subjectify it. As it becomes less mysterious, it also becomes less prone to personification.