Aaaaand once again ladies and gentlemen, Elon Musk has presented a rather creative interpretation of the truth. This time, at his grandiose launch of “We, Robot”, Musk featured bartender robots who not only pour drinks but playfully interact with customers. However, when some of the robots stumbled over their words, others hinted they might not be entirely autonomous.
Last month, in an extravagant event held at Warner Bros. Studios in Burbank, Cal., Elon Musk unveiled two new Tesla products: a driverless robotaxi called the Cybercab, and Optimus, a humanoid robot that could be domestically used in the not-too-distant future. Naturally, tech reporters who flocked to the event — which was aptly named "We, Robot" in homage to Isaac Asimov's books — were captivated less by the boxy vehicles and more by the humanoids, which looked like they were taken straight out of a sci-fi movie.
The robots mingled with guests, busted moves on the dance floor, and even played charades. At the bar, they took orders and mixed cocktails, delivering sassy bartender commentary along the way. It was a wildly successful PR event; reports were glowing. Most agreed that, while Musk may resemble (and sound like) the villain from a Marvel movie, he is indeed a genius, and Tesla is, once again, ahead of the game.
But after the hangovers cleared and the hype settled, some reporters found themselves mulling over the peculiarities of the event. The fact that the robots had different voices could be explained as a deliberate attempt to create an aura of authenticity. But the fact that they stumbled over their words and seemed more like nervous employees than automated machines was harder to overlook. Suspicion grew that these robots might have been controlled by a behind-the-scenes command center. It was likely they had some level of built-in intelligence, such as obstacle avoidance and basic dance moves. Yet, it seemed a human was steering each robot for the more complex tasks, like taking orders, mixing drinks according to a recipe, and guiding their overall movements.
In hindsight, Tesla didn’t do much to hide this, either. Some robots, when directly confronted, responded with remarks like “maybe someone’s helping me tonight” or “this is how I learn — tomorrow, I’ll know how to do it on my own.”
Even after the illusion was dispelled, tech journalists weren’t exactly appalled. And what do we learn from that, kids? That the truth, in its pure, old-fashioned sense, is dead. Truth is fluid; it’s not clear-cut. Today, I may have stretched the truth, but maybe tomorrow it will be the truth? So if I lied today to prove something that may (or may not) be true tomorrow — was I really lying after all? In that sense, Musk is indeed ahead of the game: he understood long ago that we’re living in a ‘Schrödingerian’ era of truth.