A Sight to Behold

If you think being Johnny Outlaw is tough, just imagine how tough it must be for his enemies. Driven by their mechanical brains, these bandits may have near omniscience and perfect accuracy, but they are still incomplete. What are they lacking? They are lacking the one thing, nay, the six things, that man so often takes for granted and that machine covets. Of course I am talking about the senses.

Here on the Johnny Outlaw Development Team we're working hard to tear down the boundaries between man and machine brick by brick. A functional AI requires not just the powers of cognition, but also the senses. First, allow me to explain how computers work for those of you less technologically inclined. If I were to describe how a computer functions in human terms, I would have to say that the computer is most similar to Helen Keller, whom you may know from the Alabama state quarter. Living in darkness, capable of thought, but incapable of reacting with the world, or virtual world, around it. Perhaps the computer was even less human than Helen Keller at the start, for Helen Keller did have the cardinal sense - touch.

I toiled for hours and I crafted a way for my computerized bandit to touch, just as humans do. Like a newborn babe taking his first steps I saw my creation move forward hitting things and reacting. He could navigate by running into walls and slowly sliding past them, and even get shot by a bullet or two.

It was then that I granted him the gift of speech. He could replicate the sounds of humans, or if he wished, display words that when read together produced sentences. He spoke, and he told me of his hatred for Johnny Outlaw.

I said "That is enough, bandit, you are human enough now," but like the Icarus of myth, he sought to soar ever higher. I did not stand in his way. How could I?

Now, there are many senses to choose from: sense of smell, hearing, taste, and sight. A computer with total awareness has no need for sight. He does not need to look down a corridor to check for Johnny, he immediately knows of his exact location. He does not need to experience the sorrow of Burnt Umber, the splendor of Cornflower Blue, or the passion of Navajo White. He knows their blends by heart, he knows the Red Blue and Green that make up each and every color in existence. In human terms, he is like Dustin Hoffman. And still, despite all of this, he set his metaphorical sights upon man's most prized and least useful sense.

And so he got exactly what he wanted. This mechanical god wished himself a man. He once had sight though he was blind. Now he is bound by the limitations of the human eye. He cannot see through walls and he does not become enraged when Johnny comes within a specified distance. Now he can see in but a single direction: the direction he is facing. Now he must patrol back and forth to make sure no one is coming. Now he is susceptible to ambushes from behind. Now a large exclamation point warns his foes that they have been spotted.



Does a computer know regret? I can't really say for certain. I tell you what though, some afternoons I'll walk up right behind him, and he won't even notice. He knows if I was an enemy, he'd be six feet under by now. But I'm not his enemy. And sometimes on those afternoons I catch him gazing at the Lemon Chiffon flowers, taking in every last bit of light. I say to him, "What are you lookin' at, that's just your average 255, 250, 205". He turns his gaze up to that Steel Blue sky. "Not anymore".