TheRealMaestro wrote:Sorry if I am overwhelming you with questions upon your return
from the holidays; it feels to me you have already thought much
on how this works, and I want to bring these details into the open.
Ehh, it's no burden - no holidays, no travel, nothing over here.
Just feel free to respond to any little fraction, not be burdened by the whole of my ramble.
I understand you a bit more clearly now, now that your intended scope
or limits of your analysis are set. I had in mind that this would simply be
a progression from normal to severe malfunctions, while now I understand
that this is for the 'fun malfunctions'. I agree; total system failure easily
brings an appealing moment to a sudden halt as one's partner is no longer
there to enjoy it with them, while other errors and malfunctions only will
heighten the described experience.
I decided that uncontrolled, unstaged malfunctions aren't natural features of future tech. We watch movies, they need dramatic plots; but in fact the failure modes and rates of failure, in movies about the future, are just the memories of past scenarios. "The A.T.M. ate my card! Then a tube blew up in my old-timey radio. Bah, I'm old, bah."
So, is there a role for malfunctions? Yes, absolutely - because an invincible fembot doesn't need you to be her owner, and the feeling/sense/illusion of being needed is something vital the fembot experience can provide (like a pet for a pet owner). To be needed, she must have flaws. To be adorable, they have to be harmless, trivial, over-reactions.
I Dream of Jeannie? No way; that's far too much chaos, even for her adorableness (based on being blonde; her language without contractions; being a non-human, less-than-human status; backwards culture from another millennium; her grateful subservience; love; and her "big screw-ups" that always are resolvable in under twenty minutes of screen time).
I think in the future, the only "malfunctions" will be staged, like programming a fembot to get the hiccups. Those other events should be called "lawsuits" or "suicide by stupid".
As you focus on 'sleepers', I have a minor puzzling logistical question that has
come to me, that you may perhaps answer. How does a gynoid carry on
her ordinary life without being, at least to some extent, aware of her own
nature? Even when functioning properly, she would have no need at all to
eat, drink or use a lavatory; she would also have other requirements, such
as re-charging her battery at night. How are they able to ignore or remain
oblivious to all of this, without any other person knowing her nature?
I took one philosophy class, 25 years ago - and learned very little (surely, my fault). I do remember the feeling of realizing there was a hidden assumption - and one not universally true. How she does she "think"? How does she calculate how to behave? Her methods won't need to reflect the most sophisticated chips or programming techniques - that's how we think now, on our way racing up the tech ladder.
When you see this:
you expect this
but it could be this
or
With my fembot, there's no technological necessity behind the interface.
All is artifice - going backwards in the history of time technology, even echoing the sundial (with the hands, sweeping like time's shadow)
The internal tech can be older, or younger than expected. I would put as much of 1997's IBM Deep Blue computing power into my fembot as would help, and only as little more advanced computing power as necessary.
All those problems, observations that would wake the sleeper, are a problem if the [mind[ of the fembot is built to mirror the human mind. There could be an interpreter layer to her awareness, before her personality gets the information; a filter responsible for discarding or altering whatever aspects of the world you want her to mis-perceive. That would be like perfectly fooling a human mind.
Or: do we really need updating long-term memory? Every night, or every hour, the facts she learned recently could be retained, but her base-line programming could be wiped and reset. The filter would evaluate her new facts, to see if any of those can lead to identity/attitude problems (if you leave your fembot on, and she has a mind like a human, which could learn and then reject commands.)
The architecture of her programming can be intentionally primitive. There's no problem with a fembot maintaining information in exclusive, separate categories. She would naturally learn to anticipate what her owner intends to do next, by all his micro-expressions, pulse rate, and other signs. She would seem nearly psychic, interpreting his hinted desires along with his direct orders. I think that's not a controversial conclusion.
In private, where we can be creative, my fembot is an improvisational acting partner. She has a sleeper personality, but the interpreter-level decides whether dirty language should be [unheard], mis-heard as the G-rated equivalent, cause her to be offended or aroused. She watches my response to her sentence as it is spoken - giving her time to turn the concept around, if she sees I wants her to play her response differently.
Her interpreter is perhaps like a super-ego, above her personality. The interpreter is my agent, a reflection of my ego. I want my fembot to be like a program that flips through the channels for me, guessing how I would have operated the remote. Flip-flip-flip. Different stories on the same screen, no awareness by the screen of any contradictions between the shows.
Start simple. There'd be a channel for information meant to be heard by her sleeper personality; and a channel for information which her diagnostic systems should hear. There can be other personalities, sharing in the updated facts of the day (as appropriate).
One channel adjacent on the dial to the sleeper channel would be for a weak sleeper, the one who will feel threatened by the revelation (in the manner I outlined or workshopped with her previously). The channel on the other side is for a weak sleeper who is going to be overjoyed to make her discovery.
There never have been many "true" multiple-personality disorders, true as in, like we see in tv/films. The ability to switch channels seems very plausible to audience. I am not proposing much more than that sophistication for my interpreter.
Related to this, I would like to understand more when you say:
Dale Coba wrote:The greater truthiness of fembot lovers such as me would be that beautiful women in the world are all closeted fembots (sleepers or not), and are maturing into their ideal, objectified sexuality; which includes letting me in on their secrets, giving me administrator privileges, and generally indulging my id with the sexual worldview that my reptile-brainstem without higher consciousness would want.
Though this likely applies mostly to the final stage (I know not whether
you will elsewhere elaborate the stages themselves as you have done
for the progression of babbling, that is, problems in general tone or
conveyed emotion), would you mind articulating this Utopic vision of
yours here, if you have not already in some previous post?
My vision is an alternate-universe experience of growing up. Post-infancy, we know very little about what adults do based on their sexuality. The adults are partly closeting their true nature, leaving a child with clues and mysteries. The child's body doesn't even work like either of the parents, so their truth makes no instinctive sense to the kid.
The sleep of reason produces monsters. Kids tell stories on the playground, guessing wrong about how everything works. Later, puberty means the urges, the experiences can make instinctive sense - but now you have trouble understanding the proper, effective, or necessary people skills to have encounters or relationships. As you become an adult, the details get filled in - maybe you're wise enough to understand the people behind their sexual actions with such apparently curious motivations.
Gender roles, the social order, dating, and so much else is keyed in to that map of adult behaviors which children are shielded from. But as I grew into and through puberty, my erotic sense reflected the desire for my partner to be a robot; while the corresponding desire to act like a robot was not gaining momentum, was absent from the vast population of "normal women".
My libido wanted an apology from the world. He was anticipating, hoping for a different revelation - ideally, the one which still hasn't been revealed, the social order in which a man like me can own and command a mindless fembot - which is all the most beautiful women secretly are. The social world of adults as it seems to be can still exist, co-existing with the fembot-dream layer. Everyone who knows that secret is just Stepford-pretending, to keep the kids and tourists fooled.
Your attitude towards such is especially intriguing to me; how would
a woman in this world "mature"? Beyond simply becoming a sexual
being, what takes place in parallel? This is a form of character development
I have not seen made this intricate before.
The key is absurdity. That is the crucial character of the confused view of a much younger person stuck ignorant, wavering between "wow, that's weird and arbitrary" versus "no, I must have misunderstood. You say I'll want to do what? I'll check that again.... He verbs his noun into her what-cha-ma-jigger? Why not her toe into his nose? no, I don't believe you... Furries? really?..."
Now make the absurdity dark, dramatic, masculine and feminine. This is to please the id, and the id has no conscience. The id takes. To give in and fully experience your id, you're going to have to think a little evil. While a fembot is nice, and very very female and owned, the id wants real fur coats, not faux. The id enjoys thinking about the mink farm where the minks come from. He gets a little kick out of how norms hate thinking about the mink farm. To him, if it's evil, it's a small evil. [I've been a vegetarian for 23 years. How much evil can you dismiss? Goose-liver paté? Beaver anal glands?]
The Twilight Zone often headed into that perverse territory, oh, no, dreaded desires and unwanted outcomes! A future society where everyone gets plastic surgery and becomes shallow. Movies bait their dystopias with some dark sexiness, and all we Good People can go "Bah! Evil!" while we watch again and again.
You also use the words me, my when adding more to this picture. Do you mean
that every man finds their [robotic] woman in this way, or that a
single man commonly takes on a Turkish harem of fembots?
Your word choice is unclear.
I do imagine each single man would own several or many. My mind has a general layout for a Stepford colony-resort-campus. Each rich man or a resident-visiting choreographer of fembots has an acreage large enough to cover a few blocks of a suburban neighborhood, and into town. Town and campus, a lake, other areas are shared without much trouble, considering the relatively few masters compared to many fembots which can keep each guest's experiences from intruding on each other.
Each house in the neighborhood has a frustrated divorcee, a hot maid, a girl-next-door, etc. or all of them. There mush be at least a few sorority houses or all-female dorms, even if the zoning starts to get weird. A brothel down the block, or a casino hotel you "own".
Sweep through your territory, designing choose-your-own-adventure love triangles, plot twists and fembot human pyramids. Generate stories which can be used in the "normal" Westworld for the normals. Study the potential experiences from an academic or aesthetic perspective.
Of course, that's what the world THINKS is happening. They don't know about conversion technology. This colony and its logic are plot-plausible.
There is also the illogical, pure erotic alternative: a world that can not work, but we see enough of that world happening - but not much outside of a narrow narration - to FEEL it could be real, since we want to feel the naughtiness.
That world has ubiquitous nanobots - or something - but the characters don't have to understand it anyway. At eighteen, twenty-one or whenever, the nanobots do their job without letting her know. The initial number that have built up go to an interface on key parts of the brain, just enough so that she won't notice that she didn't order that soap, the grey goo with which she has filled her bath. Nanobot lego bits, migrating into her body as she soaks. Or the initial brain interface skews her world enough to convince her to go to the Stepford Clinic/Remanufacturing Complex. Maybe she thinks her doctor recommended an M.R.I. (her slightly older friends seem to be avoiding her, acting strangely. She wonders, "Is it me?" but we know why the women act as they do).
Once her processing is complete, she has semi-sleeper questions for her female swim coach, or favorite babysitter from years back, or older sister's friend. "Do you ever get 'robotic' feelings? Do you get the urge to obey, to be an object?" This is the conversation about "the 'bots and the bees", and her tender introduction into her always-fated robo-womanhood. Like the Neil Diamond song, "Girl... (ba-dum-dum-dum-dum)... you'll be a robot... soon."
- Dale Coba
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