The middle of this book is what most interested me; the other parts I found dull. In case you want to transgressively read as I did, here's the breakdown:
- Prelude: Skip
- Ch. 1: Skim (but don't entirely skip)
- Ch. 2: Read and try to understand. It's important foundational knowledge.
- Ch. 3-5: Yes, good, read the whole thing.
- Ch. 6: Meh, it's okay. Very speculative, so feel free to skim or skip the more boring sections.
- Ch. 7-8: A little repetitive, but asks some good questions.
- Epilogue: Skip
I like books that encourage me to ponder big questions and tackle big fears. What happens when we die? What is the nature of belief? And now this one: What does it mean to be human during the robot apocalypse? What scares you about the AI revolution?
What frightens me is what this author and many others seem pretty excited about: possible immortality and endless material wealth. I want to be more than just a consumer in the "Digital Athens" of the future. If (when) machines and algorithms take over all our jobs, I will be reduced to just a consumer of goods and services, and never be a maker or a contributor - and that sounds terrible.
In my more hopeful moments, I speculate that humans will end up in the robot world like pets are in our world: living fulfilling lives, without understanding what is going on in the wider sphere. What does a dog care about linguistics and the large hadron collider? How could he? But a beloved dog has his needs taken care of, is lovingly interacted with, taken on walks, given stimulation appropriate to his understanding. I imagine that's what "being human in the age of AI" will be like - we won't understand what the robots are doing or why they're doing it, but it won't matter because we'll have fulfilling human lives still.
During more hopeful moments, I think that. During less hopeful moments, I figure we'll either be exterminated or kept in a zoo, bored out of our minds and longing for freedom. But you can read this book and think through the scenarios for yourself - what frightens you?
Despite all that, what I love about Tegmark's book is its optimism. I may have misgivings and fears, but Tegmark is ready for the AI singularity and joyful about what it could bring to the universe. He writes cogently about the pitfalls and possible apocalypse(s), but doesn't dwell there. He's convinced that with planning and hard work, humanity can make sure it's a "good" AI that succeeds us as the smartest thing around.
And Tegmark really wants a successor. He wants something out there to appreciate the universe, because, as he writes, "Galaxies are beautiful only because we see and subjectively experience them." His fear, it seems, is that humans will self-destruct or fail to create conscious AI and that there will be nothing and no one left to see and therefore create beauty out of the cold dark of space.
This idea of beauty existing only when seen is one of several poetic ideas in Life 3.0. I'm also taken by the notion of a galaxy-level AI who thinks one thought every 10,000 years. It reminds me of Pratchett's Great A'Tuin, the world turtle. Its goals are known only to itself, and it moves at slow pace (it's a turtle, after all) through the universe - but what mysteries of consciousness it holds we can only imagine.
It all comes back to Discworld in the end, really.
xo,
Devo
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