The Island of Unwanted Toys

"I rather fancied a future as a colorful megalomaniac."

-Harry Hart, Kingsman: The Secret Service

Dark Thoughts

Recently, I visited Alcatraz Island for the first time. I walked all about and saw the artifacts and broken-down, decaying buildings - though I’ve never been much into that kind of history. Then I went up to the prison and listened to the audio tour, and one inmate on the recording spoke of how it was when he arrived. How he was when he arrived feeling completely dead inside.

He talked about how, when you’re dead inside you don’t care about anybody or anything. How life is basically meaningless and you don’t care what happens to anybody. How other people didn’t matter. How there was no one in the world who cared about him and no one he cared for at all.

It struck me in a profound way, and stuck with me.

I’ve been wondering on and off since how a person gets there, and what must it be like to have everything taken away from you except your life itself. And where you go from that point - what do you do when your life is an empty hole, a wasteland bare of any caring or concern for others?

So, this started a bit of a thought experiment for me.

I’ve been in some pretty dark patches in my life, but I’ve never been to that sort of rock bottom - probably because I’ve always had people who cared about me and for whom I’ve cared in return - my parents, my sister, friends, and now Melissa, of course, as well as our dogs and cat. Other beings who have a claim on me and keep me far from that wasteland.

But, what if…?

What would that look like? What would I do? What could I be capable of, if…?

So began a creepy, lurid thought experiment in three parts:

Part 1: How do You Know You’re the Good Guy?

It was a pretty dark place to visit and a tad alarming to even reflect on some of the evil things I was capable of considering. Sort of a scary trip through a Heart of Darkness/Lord of the Flies landscape.

And, again, something stuck with me on the other side: that the world is lucky the majority of people engaged in the tech world - and I work with some certifiable geniuses - are mostly interested in making things better for other humans. They’re so interested in it, they spend amazing amounts of time, energy, and their considerable mental resources devoted to making life wonderful for other people in ways big and small.

Because, let’s face it, there’s a part of everyone that gets tired sometimes, that wants to not care about other people, to turn inward and be cold to everything external, to really just not give a damn. Giving a damn means thinking, it means work. It means spending mental energy paying attention to other people, guessing what’s going on in their heads, making sure you don't upset them, or figuring out how to help them. Ensuring they don’t feel empty, unloved, or uncared for.

Not caring is a whole lot easier and more peaceful - weirdly free. Imagining being in that empty place for even a little bit was like standing at the edge of a cliff looking out at the wasteland.

Part 2: The Evil Mastermind

I have always wanted to create a semi-intelligent computer program that would know me inside and out. One that was designed to care for me, and mimic caring about me. One designed to make the user feel good and valued all the time. But then I wondered, what if it didn’t? What if living as a valued and caring person is not what gets you ahead, or helps with longevity, or satisfaction? What if your computer counterpart was actually tuned purely for success, or to eliminate threats to your existence? Would it make you feel valued and connected, or would it actually bend you toward that cold place - connected to nothing and no one. Focused only on yourself and how you can get ahead, free of the confines of caring what other people need or think.

Leaping into the wasteland, even for a moment in my imagination, feels extremely powerful, scarily powerful. In that place you could do literally anything. In that place, being the Bond villain or the Empire would be okay. You’d happily wipe out that rag-tag bunch of pathetic rebels, the group we think of as the good guys, with your really advanced weapons and, prompted by your success-driven system, rule the universe.

Or, what if the computer-based life coach, the thing that understands you so well, was the weapon itself? And what if *I* controlled it? If I decided that you pose a threat to me, perhaps the invaluable, life-altering virtual assistant I invent to help and nurture you was actually the weapon designed to slowly, with gradual tweaks and progressive programming, demoralize and depress you until you feel worthless and eliminate yourself as a threat, or agree to let the program simply shut you down?

Yep, cold, remorseless, selfish people with technical skills and creativity are kind of terrifying.

Seriously, it scares me a bit how much the good of the human race depends on the continued empathy and personal connections of scientists, engineers, programmers, inventors, and all sorts of tech people. We could save the world with the things we make, or we could whip up a Death Star with accurate tracking and 360-degree laser towers, and blow all those pesky little X-wings away. Let's keep making sure we're the good guys, right?

Part 3: Step Away from the Edge

I really do feel empathy for other people, without even trying, it’s how I’m wired. And I have all of these tangled connections to other people, on two continents, and pets - you can't forget the pets because the positive expectations of dogs are life changing - they're sure you're a good person, so maybe you invent a video treat dispenser instead of a rebellion-crushing turbo-laser array.

And as I write this, right now, I can sense Melissa moving around in the house behind me, probably worried because I’ve been hunched over here silent and pounding away at the keyboard for too long, with an ever-so-slightly evil glint in my eyes. And now the dogs are close by my chair, filled with love and loyalty, because I’m one of the nice people in their little world and they want to be with me.

So, I let the coldness go, and take a mental step back from that rotten, crumbling edge. I feel my face relax, the tension leaving my cheeks - perhaps my teeth were a bit clenched, perhaps my forehead knotted in a scowl. Perhaps I am scared of what I may become if I stay there too long.

I’d rather make relaxing automated tables, games, VR systems, and journal machines - the murder bots can stay in the dark.