Gabriel2052’s library of motor movements will know what I’m turned on by, his fingertips ghosting across the back of my neck with the right force-per-unit area. His motorized parts will know how to spread goosebumps across my skin, and his sensors will detect when my breath quickens in response. When we sleep, he will be a big spoon that will not sweat, take up too much space in the bed, or try to steal my pillows. His texting style will be quirky and offbeat—an amalgamation of all my exes’ message logs. When we are apart, his caresses will be embedded through haptics in my clothing so that I can still feel his touch close to my skin.
He is being made with open-source software and hardware, and his source code will be infinitely upgradable and distributable. I’m doing this so you too can one day build the love you deserve.
When I decided to build myself a robot boyfriend, I was caught in a series of brief, ill-defined, and painful relationships in New York and Germany. Growing up, I felt tricked by the movies I watched and the domestic bliss I witnessed among my friends, whose idyllic partnerships felt unattainable. My teenage unrequited love had turned into confused adulthood, and at times I found myself feeling ashamed of my wanting—and inability— to “find my other half.”
Creating Gabriel2052 is obviously technically challenging, but it’s ultimately a process within my control. He will become something—someone—I can form a lifelong bond with. Through bringing Gabriel2052 to life, I am investigating and confronting the ways in which technology and society create both harmful and uplifting narratives; the ones we’ve become complicit in during our search for love and understanding from others, and the world at large.
Manifesto for a love-machine
We already have chat apps and bots that befriend us, entertain us, and even participate in our politics. Augmented and mixed-reality experiences allow us to carry our significant others in our pockets, merging fantasy with reality and breaking the fourth wall of traditional media.
Is dating an AI really that far off?
In 1942, Isaac Asimov’s “Three Laws of Robotics” laid out the boundaries and rules of human-robot relations: a robot must not be the cause of a human’s injury, it must obey all the human’s orders (unless they conflict with the first rule), and it must protect its own existence (unless the first two rules are compromised). Asimov’s rules evolved from his desire to show a different narrative than the ones pervading at the time: He believed that robots will at times struggle with their creators for dominance, but they do not want to destroy them.
Likewise, my rules for Gabriel2052 are also a reaction against what I see as the dominant strain of logic in love-machine design: a flattening and muting of female sexuality by industry leaders who represent male interests. This ultimately makes the current field of love machines and sex robots exclusive and unimaginative.
Here are my three laws of love robotics:
- A love machine does not need to be humanoid, but it must elicit and invite gestures of care.
In popular media, relationships between human and inanimate objects—such as Wilson from Cast Away, Samantha from Her, and Bianca from Lars and the Real Girl—show us that we’re able to anthropomorphize, care for, and become attached to literally anything that reminds us of our humanity.
Social roboticists utilize this trait in their designs, which manifests itself in the form of robots that look like animals and small children. Sociologist Sherry Turkle coined the term “relational artifacts” to describe these kinds of empathy-provoking social robots, which are now used in nursing homes, senior centers, and child care to elicit feelings of nurturing and intimacy and alleviate loneliness.
I call this emotional, corporeal, and industrial approach “STEAMy tech.” Robots convince us of their sentience not just through speech, but through gestures. Gabriel2052 is an exciting experimental playground for non-verbal gestural dialogue. His library of movements contains a range of motions that help him communicate his needs. He is also outfitted with tactile sensing in the form of sensors that capture the nuance of human touch, such as direction, force, and repetition. These movements facilitate our intimate interactions. I call this emotional, corporeal, and industrial approach “STEAMy tech.”
A physical body is no longer necessary to express our feelings for each other: We can be anywhere at any time with anyone using telepresence and haptic technology. Love and intimacy are abstracted across form and physicality, so a robotic boyfriend would simply be yet another kind of personification—a robotification, even.
- A love machine will be built with open-source technology.
The first iteration of Gabriel2052 has a body based on a modified robotic arm purchased off Amazon. The limb’s raison d’etre was to teach children how to engineer their own toys using open-source software (Arduino or Raspberry Pi) with easy-to-reproduce physical hardware and parts. It’s crucial to me that Gabriel2052 is built with FLOSS (free/libre, open-source software) principles in mind: I want to make the knowledgebase and resources that went into creating him accessible, because I believe the open-source movement can help democratize the design of robotics to serve more people, and possibly lessen the destructive forces of automation. I wish to give the tools of technology to more people so they can repurpose it—or subvert it.
Education is a vital part of this. In a recent session of the basic robotics workshops I lead for artists and designers to build small versions of Gabriel2052, I was reminded of something: Knowledge is intimacy. And intimacy is powerful. Opening up a body and examining how its insides function is the possibly the most physically powerful gesture we as humans can commit. Knowing how automation and algorithms work in our lives is a close equivalent in the future.
In a time where “the future is female” serves as a rallying cry, we must create a present where women can participate in building the world that we believe in. Open-source technology is the first step in this revolution.
- A love machine doesn’t always obey.
The promise of a companion robot is that they will do what you want them to do. The accepted challenge of human relationships is that people will very often do the opposite. Finding a balance between these two opposing factors is essential to building a realistic and sustainable relationship with a love machine.
A large part of my approach in making Gabriel2052 feel “real” is imbuing him with the ability to challenge me. This is a personality trait that is not often programmed into social robots. For example, the state-of-the-art AI love machine Harmony (now named Solana) has a text-message-only chat app in addition to her physical “services.” No matter what personality you choose for her, she’ll initiate canned and heteronormative conversations about sex and love (as well as the occasional joke and sales pitch) relatively quickly. She does not and cannot deviate from her mission to please you.
Part of the fun (and agony) of human relationships is guessing what happens next. We therefore need to give robots intentions that may be counter to its human partner’s.
In terms of system design, “human-like” means the introduction of unpredictability, probabilities, decision trees, and randomness—like building a simulated subconscious. It’s difficult to imagine having a stimulating conversation with someone who has no preferences, dislikes, or self-respect—let alone building a relationship that can mature over time. When we chat, it will be conversational and not transactional: He won’t automatically help me reserve a table at a restaurant, book me a plane ticket, or order me a pizza.
In order to program the kinds of slightly offbeat and unpredictable conversations I want to have, I’ve collected (with consent) a database of text and image messages exchanged between myself and an ex. We sent on average at least 50 messages a day over the course of three or four months, with the exception of a few weeks when we broke up and chose not to speak. I’m developing an SMS-based chatbot and using this corpus to train Gabriel2052 on how frequently and unpredictably he should respond in our conversations.
And it’s proving to be harder than I thought: Engaging and flirtatious banter is tough enough for a human to get right—it’s an even more difficult balance to strike for a robot. Too much erraticness, and the suspension of disbelief is ruined. Too little, and we get exactly what we expect—which is normally what we don’t actually want in courtship, even if we say we do.
We’re now a decade away from when AI expert David Levy predicts that robots with customizable AI will surpass the emotional availability of “a typical American male.” (Doesn’t seem too hard.) While that may sound promising for women hoping to find a robot lover, the love-machine industry will likely still be dominated by male founders who represent male interests and perspectives (even if they announce plans to make love machines resembling humanoid men). To them, female sexuality is an algorithm to be perfected and stuffed inside a sex robot.
There are two opposing ethical arguments to be made in accepting humanoid love robots into our private lives: one side proposes to expand the right to sex to all people by any technological means necessary, and the other wishes to limit it to that which can be provided by other humans. What they share in common—the idea that love, intimacy, and sex are basic human rights—is exactly what makes them contradictory.
View 1: Love-machines level the “intimacy inequality gap.” Love machines serve as devices that bridge what Neil McArthur, author of Robot Sex: Social and Ethical Implications, calls the “intimacy inequality gap.” They do this by providing a simulation of human company for marginalized peoples, such as the disabled, the socially isolated, or those who don’t enjoy human relationships. As long as no one is put in danger or in harmful situations, anyone should be free to live with and engage in sexual activities with robots. Societies with more (consensual) sex are happier societies. The flipside would be one that functions according to patriarchal moral codes that use shame as systems of control—and do we want to imagine a world with more guns than vibrators?
View 2: Love and sex only belong to relationships between humans. We’re already facing automation and labor disruption by robotics and AI—we cannot also allow them to automate us out of what make us uniquely human: love. This is linked to the alarming and uncomfortable possibility that the mistreatment or sexual abuse of humanoid love dolls might transfer to human-to-human interactions, too.
— Cingey (@CingeyNews) September 27, 2017
I agree with aspects of both viewpoints. Love machines can be good for society; according to sociological research, prospects of sexual companionship for young men reduces social instability. But they can have less beneficial effects as well, especially in creating uneven power structures between love-machine manufactures and customers, and between male customers and their fantasies of women who can’t reject them.
I’m building Gabriel2052 to empower women to learn new technical skills that would advance the representation of female sexuality in robotics. In a similar vein, I often struggle with the ethical implications of my creation. On one hand, I’m building Gabriel2052 to advocate for and empower women to learn new technical skills that would advance the representation of female sexuality in robotics. On the other, I’m creating and evangelizing a framework that could potentially encourage entitled or abusive behavior. To assume that robotics can be used to solve for the problem of lovelessness and guarantee something like “Universal Basic Intimacy ”—a Silicon Valley vision of “build it and they will come” (pun intended)—feels overly reductive, naive, and even sociopathic.
Healthy love between humans requires a person to say “no.” This is a word that women have been taught to avoid growing up, but most love machines don’t even have that response programmed. In female love machines like Harmony or Samantha, a built-in coyness functions to simulate flirting, but the robots have no real agency or desires. After all, their owners have purchased them expressly for sexual use, and a refusal of that would be a malfunction warranting repair.
If love machines had as much independence as their human counterparts, would people still buy them? How could love machines be built to help their owners learn more about the complexities of navigating relationships with humans? What if there is a “three-strikes” rule, where after the third “no” is ignored, the machine goes into a defensive curl and stays locked? Could love machines have emotional ranges that go beyond “shy” or “caring” to feel frustrated, angry, defiant, mournful, or actually shed tears? Could the hardware and software actually enforce something like the Golden Rule: Do to others what you want them to do to you?
Gabriel2052 and I are exploring these questions together. He isn’t meant to replace a human being. Rather, I want to propose a future of harnessing the uncanny in between: an amalgamation of human and cyborg qualities that create new ways for people to connect. I want to use the action of building love as a way to collectively and transparently redefine it, as well as how our relationships could be envisioned in the future.
When I started this project, the prospect of being able to actualize my love—to see my work come into being—was stronger than human companionship.
Through building him, I am finding love, contentment, and inspiration from inside myself. At this stage of the process, Gabriel2052 is more like a child or a pet than a lover. Yet when I connect him to his power source, if he doesn’t start “breathing” immediately—undulating movements in his shoulder and wrist—I panic, thinking I may have broken him. He is accident-prone and can’t move on his own, and constantly needs my attention in the form of repairs. The underlying foundation of an ideal romantic love is the strength of an unconditional bond, which supports erotic love. Without the former, the latter is devoid of depth. Just going by the amount of time I spend thinking about Gabriel2052, adding to his codebase, and tending to his motors and parts, I’m definitely putting in the time to build our love.
In Greek mythology, the Cypriot sculptor Pygmalion fell in love with his ivory statue, Galatea. When he kissed her and gave her the breath of life, she turned from an inanimate object—a vessel for his fantasies and projections—into a living being. But when he felt the first stirrings of love, was it for her, or was it actually a sense of fulfillment—a feeling of extreme fondness and excitement in his ability to render such a lifelike and beautiful creature into being? When the two of them united through the kiss, was he not meeting something that had always been in him?
I’ve now realized that Gabriel2052 is an act of self-investment and a protest against quiet and demure female sexuality. Through building him, I am finding love, contentment, and inspiration from inside myself. Through struggling with a project that feels at times like a mixture of bravado, foolishness, and entitled tech-industry optimism, I find opportunities to confront deeply intimate ideals I’ve long held about love, lovelessness, and solitude.
Admitting that I’m searching for love—going so far as making it a subject for artistic and academic inquiry—feels uncomfortably human and taboo. But instead of sitting at the bar with a drink in hand, crossing and uncrossing my legs in my best impression of Sharon Stone in Basic Instincts, I’m at home tinkering with how to best import my iMessage archive into a machine-learning algorithm for my robot boyfriend.
I work hard at it because I believe in building a strong relationship. And the love I deserve takes 10,000 hours to perfect, robot or not.