Who's Who and to Whom?

I’d tried every way I could find to get access to one of my online accounts, but I was going round in a circle. Finally, having run out of options and patience, I had to concede that there was nothing for it but to make one of those phone calls that can take up an entire morning. So, I was surprised when it was answered after only three or four rings – and by a friendly-sounding young man who expressed some sympathy with my plight and vowed to help me. I’m not sure exactly how long it took me to realise I was talking to a robot, but it was time enough for me to feel bamboozled and a little peeved. I hung up and started again, this time responding to each of its questions with the monosyllable, “no”, until it had run the full gamut of its programme and transferred me to a human who was endowed with two superpowers: initiative and authority. I was in at last. AI is not yet in control of everything.

Otherwise, I’ve spent a good part of this week delving into my box of memories, following an invitation to attend a delayed memorial gathering for a friend who died a few years ago. We weren’t best mates, but our circles were so intertwined that a degree of intimacy grew, over time, from our various connections. The deceased had been a social linchpin. He was one of those gregarious people whose lust for life brings others together, creating opportunities for new friendships and acquaintances – or simply for useful contacts. As a result, the gathering in his honour comprised a mix of friends connected to him and by him – some more closely than others. We may have all partied together in the eighties, but most people I once ‘knew’ have since developed such diverse lives that I don’t see them from one decade to the next. In such cases, it’s not easy to resume conversations. There is always the chance that one’s early impressions of someone might turn out to have been ill-judged and revealed as such by an untimely faux pas – on either side.

In any case, the event was a celebration and a chance for an awful lot of story-telling and reminiscence, though how much of it was exaggerated is a moot point. Memory is a slippery concept and not to be relied upon for objective historical evidence. As I rummaged about in my box of memories and offered them to fellow partygoers, I noticed a few raised eyebrows or other politely concealed expressions of surprise. Likewise, my own surprised reactions to some recounted events were doubtless visible. When it comes to remembering, individual perspective counts for more than we might care to admit and the passing of time may reinforce or dilute any impression that was formed in the mind’s eye. And all this before we factor in the flow of alcohol.

During the event, I tried fervently to connect some of the narrative fragments that I didn’t know about: who had been doing what, with whom, where and for how long. I had limited success, but it would be an impossible task, even if you were constantly present and on the job. Even then, there is the all-distorting human bias to take into account. Perhaps this is a task more suited to an AI programme? First, feed in a timeline of events based on the life of a key person; then, the accompanying cast of characters, complete with their CVs; follow this with their spoken reminiscences of a set of key incidents; and, finally, add a background of cultural, political and weather events. Press the button and listen up. I mean, If AI is ever going to take over the world, it will first have to make sense of human relationships.