Go away, dear Kismet; you're not my kismet
By Patricia Pearson

Tourists now visiting Boston can pop into the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, if they're so inclined, and check out an exhibit called, "Robots and Beyond: Exploring Artificial Intelligence at MIT."

Among the other mechanical marvels on display is Kismet, a sociable humanoid robot who looks like a scrap heap with big Mickey Mouse eyes. Kismet is about as humanoid as my dishwasher, but the robot has a flexible rubber mouth stuck to its wires and widgets that can smile, frown, purse in disgust and open wide in surprise.

According to MIT's Web site, Kismet has been designed to perceive "a variety of natural social cues" through "natural and intuitive social interaction with a human caregiver." You have to think the programmers are getting a bit carried away, referring to a machine powered by 15 computers as an object in need of a "caregiver." I could run over it with my Volvo and it wouldn't even notice.

Still, the whole programming effort is modeled on infant development, with Kismet designed less to perform a specific task — such as lumbering around on Mars or lurching down mine shafts — than to be a blank slate that can learn emotional and social behavior by interacting with the environment.

Now, for me, the question arises: Do we really have to have sociable humanoid robots? Don't we have any friends? Are we not getting along with our mothers? Did our beloved Siamese cat die, and we hope to replace her companionship with an object that can get whacked by a speeding Volvo and still smile?

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