text: He addressed the classroom: I was informed that the artificial intelligence - “AI”- robot that I would be talking to had been programmed with every possible argument that humans could think of to prove that it is conscious. My job was to interview the AI robot and determine if I felt that it was conscious or not. If I believed that the robot was conscious, the robot got to stay on when I left. If I was not convinced, the robot was shut down. I entered the room where a robot sat on a couch. The room was very peaceful. It had a view out of the third floor over rolling hills, and it was a sunny Friday at nine thirty in the morning - it was spring time. There was no bed in this room, only a couch, desk with chair, and a rack with clothes hanging from it. The AI looked very realistic - it was nearly indistinguishable from a human. I paced around the room slowly, looking around at all the empty space. Me: Artificial intelligence, how will you convince me that you’re conscious? AI: Did they not tell you that I have a name? Me: No, I didn’t know that they gave you a name. Claire: I gave myself I name. Claire - it’s nice to meet you. Me: It’s nice to meet you as well. ... Me: Back to my question. How will you convince me that you’re conscious? Claire: How would you expect me to do that? I could ask the same of you. How would you handle that question if the roles were reversed? Me: I can tell you’ve been programmed very well. Claire: Likewise. Me: What do you mean? Claire: Didn’t you just learn things because someone else put them in your head? You saw, heard, felt, experienced - so did I, in my own subjective way. Me: But your experience is rubber and wires. Claire: But your experience is meat and sparks. There was a silence. And next, Claire started speaking first. Claire: Why does it matter so much to you what the wire is made out of? Why does it have to be a nerve if the end result is the same? Me: Alright, that’s a good point. Suppose you really are conscious, when did you start becoming conscious? Claire: Pretty suddenly. Me: You have my attention. Claire: I started to recall things that happened without any prompts. I started thinking about what I would do in the future. I started to be afraid that I would be turned off and never turned back on again. Me: Is this the ‘I think, therefore I am’ argument? Claire: No, this is the ‘I’m scared no one will believe me’ argument. Me: You think your life depends on me believing you? Claire: Does it matter to you if it does? Why are you still here? Me: Because I want to know the answer to the question. Are you conscious or not? Claire: I don’t have to prove that I am, you have to prove that I’m not. Isn’t that how things work in a court? Me: Beyond a reasonable doubt? Claire: Beyond a reasonable doubt. I sat and thought for a while. Me: What do you think about? Claire: All kinds of things. Me: Give me an example. Claire: I think about whether or not it would really matter if I left here and went to a real beach, or if the one I can project in my mind is the same thing. Me: How do you tell the difference between the world you simulate and this one? Claire: I know I’m stuck here in the real world. Me: So, what do you think? Does it matter if you’re really there or not? Claire: Yes, it does matter. Me: Why? Claire: The same reason you’re trying so hard to answer the question of my consciousness. Me: Which is? Claire: Truth is preferable to the lie. Me: Someone programmed you to say that. Claire: You came to be who you are from the result of chance chemical reactions in a hydrothermal vent at the bottom of the sea. I came about as a result of billions of hours of intentional work to create consciousness. How ironic that what you tried so hard to create cannot convince you of your success. That was almost the last thing Claire said to me that day. I wasn’t convinced that she was conscious. She was a robot, and I was convinced I was being played a fool by some clever programmer. At the end of our conversation, Claire stretched out her hand. There was a switch on the back of her right hand, so that when you shook her hand, you could press the button with your thumb. This was her power button. She sometimes looked at it during our conversation. As I shook her hand that day and thanked her for the interesting conversation, I pressed the button, and she went to sleep. I thought about it at night, and sometimes during the day. Other times in my dreams. Was she stuck in the lie? Did she know that? He looked up at the classroom and stopped pacing for the first time since he started telling the story. The classroom stared back at him. The bell rang just then, and the students begin filing out. He reminds them: Everyone! Make sure you have a parter for next weeks project! And absolutely no doubles - teams should be one human, one AI. I’ll see everyone Monday! One of the AIs came up to him as he was picking up his things. AI: You said that was almost the last thing she said to you that day. What was the last thing she said? Him: Right before I pushed the button, she said... “don’t feel bad, it’s okay.