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# Why Robot? Speculative design, the domestication of technology and the considered future

James H Auger

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James H Auger. Why Robot? Speculative design, the domestication of technology and the considered future. Humanities and Social Sciences. Royal College of Art, 2012. English. NNT: tel-04490093

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Why Robot?

Speculative design,
the domestication of
technology and the
considered future

James H Auger

A thesis submitted in partial fulfilment of the requirements for
the degree of Doctor of Philosophy

September 2012

The Royal College of Art
<figure><img src="image_2.png" /></figure>
This text represents the submission for the degree of Doctor of
Philosophy at the Royal College of Art. This copy has been supplied for
the purpose of research for private study, on the understanding that
it is copyright material, and that no quotation from the thesis may be
published without proper acknowledgment.
<figure><img src="image_3.png" /></figure>

Habitats

a. Laboratory

b. Everyday life

c. Robot related imaginaries
Abstract

One of the enduring objects used to represent the technological future is the robot. This legacy means that its *promise* has the ability to evolve in accordance with our societal and cultural dreams and aspirations. It can reflect the current state of technological development, our hopes for that technology and also our fears; fundamentally though, after almost a century of media depictions and corporate promises, the robot is yet to enter our homes and lives in any meaningful way.

This thesis begins by asking the question: how *does* an emerging technology (such as robotic) become a domestic product? In addressing this issue I draw from the theory of domestication and the method of speculative design to describe three possible technological journeys: how technology *does not*, *does* and *could* become a domestic product:

1. Technology *does not* make the transition from laboratory to domestic life.

Robots have made countless departures from the habitat of the research laboratory, apparently headed towards the domestic habitat, but the vast majority never arrive. This observation leads to the identification of a third habitat and the current destination for the majority of *proposed* domestic robots – robot-related imaginaries.
In this theatre-like environment, robots exist as either promises or
warnings of a potential technological future. The habitat includes
technology fairs, laboratory open houses, news articles and the films
and novels of science fiction. I conclude by suggesting reasons why
these visions of the future so often fail to become domestic products.

2. Technology *does* make the transition from laboratory to domestic life.

Borrowing from the science of ecology and biological concepts of evolution and domestication, I make an analogy between the shift of habitats that occurs when an organism successfully goes through the process of artificial selection (natural to domestic) and the transition an emerging technology makes in order to become a suitable product for domestic use (laboratory to domestic).

3. How technology *could* make the transition from laboratory to domestic life.

This section makes up the core of the thesis as I describe
speculative design and how it can be used to present more plausible
depictions of near-future technological applications. By stepping out
of the normative relationship that ties technological development to
commercial markets, speculative design opens a space for alternative
perspectives, critical reflection and an examination of contemporary
and near-future technological application.

Throughout the thesis these theoretical investigations run
parallel to the practice-based element, allowing for interplay between
the two. This resulted in three projects that exemplify the speculative
design approach applied to robots, inviting dialogue and contemplation
on what a *preferable* robotic future might be.
# Contents

<table><tr><td>Abstract</td><td>5</td></tr><tr><td>Contents</td><td>7</td></tr><tr><td>List of Figures and Illustrations</td><td>13</td></tr><tr><td>Preface</td><td>21</td></tr><tr><td>Acknowledgements</td><td>23</td></tr><tr><td>Introduction</td><td>25</td></tr><tr><td>Understanding robots</td><td>33</td></tr><tr><td>Promiscuous robots: The challenge of definition</td><td>33</td></tr><tr><td>Robot ecologies</td><td>38</td></tr><tr><td>Robot raisons d'être</td><td>40</td></tr><tr><td>Why technology does not become a product: Ecological maladaptation and disrepute</td><td>45</td></tr><tr><td>Spectacular robots and technological dreams: Motivations of creation</td><td>47</td></tr><tr><td>Manifested dreams: The theatre of robots and myths of progress</td><td>53</td></tr></table>
<table>
  <tbody>
    <tr>
      <td>Business value: Corporate agendas</td>
      <td>56</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>Political value: Myths of progress</td>
      <td>58</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>Robotic research: My home is not a laboratory</td>
      <td>61</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>Functional adaptation: The niche</td>
      <td>61</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>Form adaptation: Form follows fiction</td>
      <td>66</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>Interactive adaptation: Human people/robot interaction</td>
      <td>68</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>The robot paradox #1: Sublimity and ephemerality</td>
      <td>71</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>The robot and the cinema: The subversion of the robot</td>
      <td>74</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>The robot paradox #2: Heimlich and unheimlich</td>
      <td>81</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>Playing to strengths: Implications of a robotic future</td>
      <td>84</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>The domestic ecology: How technology does become a product</td>
      <td>91</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>Evolution and domestication: A brief comparison</td>
      <td>94</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>Domestication theory</td>
      <td>97</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>Domestication of technology</td>
      <td>101</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>The genesis: Hints of usefulness or observed potential</td>
      <td>101</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>Utilitarian stages: Means and ends</td>
      <td>105</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>Directed activity: A conscious shift towards domesticity</td>
      <td>110</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>Interacting with computers: Designing the interaction</td>
      <td>114</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>The form of computers: Any colour so long as it's beige</td>
      <td>117</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>Computer Function: Beyond word processing</td>
      <td>119</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>Appropriation and more: Post utility</td>
      <td>122</td>
    </tr>
  </tbody>
</table>
**Speculative design: The products that technology could become** 129

Speculative design: *Motivations* 130

Historical and semantic issues 131

Speculative futures and alternative presents 137

Speculative design: *Crafting the speculation* 138

Design for context: *Where does the speculation exist?* 140

The uncanny: *Desirable discomfort* 145

Observational comedy: *Rooting the speculation in the familiar* 164

Demo or die: *Overcoming oddness through aesthetic experience* 169

Alternative presents: *Counterfactual and alternative histories* 173

Domesticating technology: *Literally* 178

**A speculative design approach to robots: Three projects** 183

Carnivorous Domestic Entertainment Robots: *A robotic alternative present* 184

The technology 184

Designing the speculation 190

Form adaptation: *Form follows familiarity* 190

Functional adaptation: *The killing application* 196

Interactive adaptation: *People/insect/robot interaction* 200
<table>
  <tbody>
    <tr>
      <td>Technical verisimilitude: Suspending disbelief</td>
      <td>200</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>Dissemination</td>
      <td>202</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>Learning and observations</td>
      <td>206</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>Mismanaging the uncanny</td>
      <td>206</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>Cultural and historical baggage</td>
      <td>208</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>Too many fronts</td>
      <td>210</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td><u>Happylife: A robotic speculative future</u></td>
      <td>211</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>The technology</td>
      <td>212</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>Designing the speculation</td>
      <td>214</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>Form adaptation: Domesticating the technical</td>
      <td>214</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>Functional and interactive adaptation:</td>
      <td></td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Emotional automation</td>
      <td>217</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Cultural verisimilitude: Building on political<br/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;and cultural angst</td>
      <td>218</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Avoiding stereotypes</td>
      <td>221</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Designing the audience experience:</td>
      <td></td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Storytelling</td>
      <td>227</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>Learning and observations</td>
      <td>229</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>Collaboration: Moving design upstream</td>
      <td>229</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>Technological critique: Shifting context</td>
      <td>230</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>Public disengagement: Spoon-feeding<br/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;the technology</td>
      <td>230</td>
    </tr>
  </tbody>
</table>
RCA Design Interactions robot project:

Living with robots 233

The brief: Living with robots

(abridged, see Appendix B) 233

Selected projects 234

Project/question 1: Relating to robot function 234

Project/question 2: Adapting the home to
accommodate robot needs 238

Project/question 3: How could robots adapt
to the home? 241

Project/question 4: The implications of
domestic robots 243

Learning and observations 245

Conclusions 247

On robots: A suggestion for further research 247

On speculative design: The considered future 249

Appendix A 252

Appendix B: Briefs and workshops 255

Bibliography 260
<figure><img src="image_4.png" /></figure>

<figure><img src="image_5.png" /></figure>
List of Figures
and Illustrations

Figure 1: Diagram - A simplistic robot ecosystem

Figure 2: Diagram - Journey of a technology

Figure 3: Image - AirJelly (Bionic Learning Network (Festo), 2009-2010)

Figure 4: Image - AquaJelly (Bionic Learning Network (Festo), 2009-2010)

Figure 5: Image - AquaPenguin (Bionic Learning Network (Festo), 2009-2010)

Figure 6: Image - AirPenguin (Bionic Learning Network (Festo), 2009-2010)

Figure 7: Image - Electro at the New York World Fair (Westinghouse, 1939)

Figure 8: Image - Asimo playing football (Honda, 2000)

Figure 9: Image - Kompaï (Robosoft, 2010)

Figure 10: Image - Wakamaru (Mitsubishi, 2003)

Figure 11: Image - Carebot (Geckosystems, 2009)

Figure 12: Image - Nao (Aldebaran Robotics, n.d.)

Figure 13: Image - Paro (AIST, 2003)

Figures 14 & 15: Image - Mertz Active Vision Robotic Head (MIT, 2004)
**Figure 16: Image**
- Scene from 'Frankenstein'
  (James Whale, 1931)

**Figure 17: Image**
- Scene from 'Metropolis' (Fritz Lang, 1927)

**Figure 18: Image**
- Scene from 'Robocop'
  (Paul Verhoeven, 1987)

**Figure 19: Image**
- Scene from 'iRobot' (Alex Proyas, 2004)

**Figure 20: Image**
- Scene from 'The Terminator'
  (James Cameron, 1984)

**Figure 21: Diagram**
- Domestication of products and technology

**Figure 22: Image**
- Neiman-Marcus catalogue showing
  Honeywell Kitchen Computer

**Figure 23: Image**
- Alto PC (Xerox Parc, 1973)

**Figure 24: Image**
- Three-button mouse (Xerox Parc, 1973)

**Figure 25: Image**
- PCjr (IBM, 1984)

**Figure 26: Image**
- Macintosh computer (Apple, 1984)

**Figure 27: Image**
- ZX80 computer (Sinclair, 1980)

**Figure 28: Image**
- 2600 Games Console (Atari, 1980)

**Figure 29: Image**
- The Handy Uses of a Home Computer
  (Life magazine, 1970)

**Figure 30: Image**
- iMac bondi blue (Apple, 1997)

**Figure 31: Image**
- Wolf in Yellowstone Park

**Figure 32: Image**
- Pug in costume

**Figure 33: Diagram**
- Alternative presents and
  speculative futures

**Figure 34: Image**
- Alien from 'War of the Worlds'
  (Spielberg, 2005)

**Figure 35: Image**
- Technological Dream Series: No. 1,
  Robots - Robot 3 (Dunne and Raby, 2007)
Figure 36: Image
- Technological Dream Series: No. 1,
  Robots - Robot 4 (Dunne and Raby, 2007)

Figure 37: Image
- Scene from 'The Exorcist' (Friedkin, 1973)

Figure 38: Image
- Afterlife coffin with microbial fuel cell

Figure 39: Image
- Engraved Afterlife battery

Figure 40: Image
- Remote control Mk1 Spitfire

Figure 41: Image
- Euthanasia machine

Figure 42: Image
- TV remote control

Figure 43: Image
- Batteries

Figure 44: Image
- Audio Tooth Implant

Figure 45: Image
- The Sun newspaper (29 June 2002, p.25)

Figure 46: Image
- Excuse Me, Is Your Tooth Ringing (Wired,
  2002, online)

Figure 47: Image
- Still from Sky News broadcast (2002)

Figure 48: Image
- My mouth is ringing: Inventors create
  'telephone tooth' (CNN online, 2002)

Figure 49: Image
- Time Magazine front cover (Time
  Magazine, November 2002)

Figure 50: Text
- Selected correspondence relating to the
  Audio Tooth Implant

Figure 51: Image
- Sensual Interfaces video still
  (Chris Woebken, 2007)

Figure 52: Image
- The Minutine Space
  (Mikael Metthey, 2006)

Figure 53: Image
- Iso-Phone in the Guinness swimming pool

Figure 54: Image
- Iso-Phone at Ars Electronica

Figure 55: Text
- Excerpt from post Iso-Phone demo
  interviews at Ars Electronica (2004)
**Figure 56: Image**
- The Golden Institute Model - Nevada desert Lightning Harvester (Sascha Pohflepp, 2010)

**Figure 57: Image**
- The Golden Institute Model - induction loop-equipped Chuck's Café (Sascha Pohflepp, 2010)

**Figure 58: Image**
- Attenborough Design Group - Gesundheit Radio (James Chambers, 2010)

**Figure 59: Image**
- Attenborough Design Group - Floppy Legs (James Chambers, 2010)

**Figure 60: Image**
- Acoustic Botany: Genetically Engineered Sound Garden (David Benqué, 2010)

**Figure 61: Image**
- Acoustic Botany: Singing Flower (David Benqué, 2010)

**Figure 62: Image**
- Acoustic Botany: String nut and Bugs (David Benqué, 2010)

**Figure 63: Image**
- Slugbot (Bristol Robotics Lab, 2001)

**Figure 64: Image**
- Ecobot (Bristol Robotics Lab, 2001)

**Figure 65: Illustration**
- Flypaper Robotic Clock

**Figure 66: Illustration**
- Lampshade Robot

**Figure 67: Illustration**
- Fly Stealing Robot

**Figure 68: Illustration**
- UV Flykiller Parasite Robot

**Figure 69: Illustration**
- Mousetrap Coffee Table Robot

**Figure 70: Image**
- Mousetrap Coffee Table Robot reference material

**Figure 71: Image**
- Mousetrap Coffee Table Robot

**Figure 72: Image**
- Leg of Mousetrap Coffee Table Robot

**Figure 73: Image**
- Graphic display on Mousetrap Coffee Table Robot
<table>
  <tr>
    <td>Figure 74: Image</td>
    <td>Lampshade Robot.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Figure 75: Image</td>
    <td>Lampshade Robot, close-up of microbial fuel cell</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Figure 76: Image</td>
    <td>Fly Stealing Robot</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Figure 77: Image</td>
    <td>Scene from 'Goldfinger' (Hamilton, 1964)</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Figure 78: Image</td>
    <td>Scene from 'Micky Mouse and the Mad Doctor' (Disney, 1933)</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Figure 79: Image</td>
    <td>Flypaper Robotic Clock</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Figure 80: Image</td>
    <td>Mechanised aperture on Mousetrap Coffee Table Robot</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Figure 81: Image</td>
    <td>Techfest (Mumbai, India, 2011)</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Figure 82: Image</td>
    <td>Transmediale exhibition (Berlin, Germany, 2011)</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Figure 83: Image</td>
    <td>Scene from 'Wallace and Gromit's World of Invention' (BBC Television, 2010)</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Figure 84: Image</td>
    <td>Swiss Design Network Presentation (2010)</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Figure 85: Text</td>
    <td>YouTube responses to 'Wallace and Gromit's World of Invention' feature on Flypaper Robotic Clock</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Figure 86: Image</td>
    <td>Thermal image camera</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Figure 87: Image</td>
    <td>Output from the thermal image camera</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Figure 88: Illustration</td>
    <td>Happylife technical description</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Figure 89: Image</td>
    <td>Aneroid barograph</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Figure 90: Image</td>
    <td>Happylife display</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Figure 91: Image</td>
    <td>HAL 9000 from '2001: A Space Odyssey' (Kubrick, 1968)</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Figure 92: Image</td>
    <td>Embedded Happylife thermal image camera</td>
  </tr>
</table>
**Figure 93: Image**
- Incheon International Airport: thermal imaging system screening passengers for H1N1 flu

**Figure 94: Image**
- Rail staff face 'smile police' (BBC News online, 2009)

**Figure 95: Image**
- Millimetre Wave Technology (US Department of Homeland Security, n.d.)

**Figure 96: Image**
- Still from 'The Jeremy Kyle Show' (ITV, 2009)

**Figure 97: Illustration**
- Happylife scenario #1. Introduction

**Figure 98: Illustration**
- Happylife scenario #2. Guilt

**Figure 99: Illustration**
- Happylife scenario #3. Mourning

**Figure 100: Illustration**
- Happylife scenario #4. Leaving

**Figure 101: Illustration**
- Happylife scenario #5. Glow

**Figure 102: Illustration**
- Sonic Identifier - Avian (Neil Usher, 2010)

**Figure 103: Illustration**
- Insect Habitat - Rake (Neil Usher, 2010)

**Figure 104: Illustration**
- Flora Identifier - Neo-romancer (Neil Usher, 2010)

**Figure 105: Illustration**
- Mammal Surveillance - Attenborough (Neil Usher, 2010)

**Figure 106: Illustration**
- Face Recognition - Nimbus (Neil Usher, 2010)

**Figure 107: Illustration**
- Insect Extermination - Anti-ant (Neil Usher, 2010)

**Figure 108: Image**
- With Robots - Cooking (Diego Trujillo, 2010)

**Figure 109: Image**
- With Robots - Folding (Diego Trujillo, 2010)

**Figure 110: Image**
- With Robots - Handling (Diego Trujillo, 2010)
<table><tr><td>Figure 111: Image</td><td>- With Robots - Learning (Diego Trujillo, 2010)</td></tr><tr><td>Figure 112: Image</td><td>- With Robots - Serving (Diego Trujillo, 2010)</td></tr><tr><td>Figure 113: Image</td><td>- Experiments in Robot Sound (Mark Mckeague, 2010)</td></tr><tr><td>Figure 114: Image</td><td>- When the Home Stops (video still) (Joseph Popper, 2010)</td></tr><tr><td>Figure 115: Image</td><td>- When the Home Stops (video still) (Joseph Popper, 2010)</td></tr></table>
<figure><img src="image_6.png" /></figure>
# Preface

> "...the story of humanity's repeated attempts to colonise the red planet. The first men were few. Most succumbed to a disease called the great loneliness when they saw their home planet dwindle to the size of a fist. Those few who survived found no welcome on Mars. But more rockets arrived from earth, and more.

> People brought their old prejudices with them – and their desires and fantasies and tainted dreams."

Ray Bradbury, The Martian Chronicles, 2008

At first glance it might seem odd to begin a study on robots with an excerpt from a classic science fiction short story describing the human colonisation of Mars, but in these few choice words Ray Bradbury somehow manages to humanise one of our more spectacular technological futures. Space colonisation perhaps sits alongside the robot as one of the more popular and pervasive visions of the future, but here, in the hands of Bradbury, there is an anomaly: this is no spectacular utopian imaginary filled with complex techno-fetishistic portrayals of perfect extra-terrestrial future lives; nor is it an apocalyptic cautionary tale warning us of how badly things can go wrong when technology is allowed to progress without constraint, a
perspective commonly taken by the writers of science fiction. Bradbury simply describes a future in which we will still be people. His moving description of the colonisation of Mars reminds us that the recipients of future technologies will have the same complex needs, desires and idiosyncrasies that define who and what we are today.

When speculating on how emerging technologies could become products, Bradbury's approach to fiction, technology and the future provides a rich vain of inspiration and an influence that runs throughout this thesis.
Acknowledgements

Four years is long time on which to focus on one subject. But
of course this is not an individual endeavour and this PhD dissertation
would not have been possible without the support, patience, belief
and knowledge of many people. Along the way a lot individuals came
and went, sadly some in the most definite sense. My Grandfather, who
greatly influenced my direction in life through his keen interest in
machines and tinkering in sheds, passed away a few months ago. My
greatest regret is that I didn't manage to complete six months earlier.

Also passing were Ray Bradbury and J G Ballard, whose novels
and short stories have been so inspirational throughout the writing of
thesis, and during the Happylife project. I didn't know them personally
but hopefully a modicum of their genius can be found somewhere in
this work.

First I would like to give my biggest thanks to the two
individuals who have remained constant throughout the academic part
of this process - my supervisors Anthony Dunne and Alex Taylor, who
never ceased to impress with their wisdom, surprise with their rigour
and humble with their generosity. You both make me realise how much I
still have to learn!

I would like to thank Jimmy Loizeau for all the projects we've
done together over the past decade – certainly my career to date
would have been significantly different had we not had that fateful
conversation about teeth and implants one day as students in the RCA
computer room.

The others who kept me on track, either through engaging with
the concepts, workshop banter, working together or simply passing
quality time were (in no significant order) Noam Toran, Onkar Kular,
Tom O' Brien and Trevor Harvey – good friends; Reyer Zwiggelaar and
Bashar A Rajoub of Aberystwyth University for the fantastic time spent
together working on Happylife; Tim, Brigitte and the students of Design
Interactions past and present; Laurel Swann – who gave me the finest
piece of advice at the start of the PhD – “don’t set your expectations
too high or you’ll never finish”; Noel Sharkey for great conversations
on robots; Jon Turney for excellent feedback on an early draft; Jon
Oberlander for the title ‘Why Robot’; Koby Barhad for being the most
exceptional and patient graphic designer (amongst other things); and
Rosie Spencer for feedback on the final draft.

I would like to thank Microsoft for their huge generosity and
open-mindedness in funding this PhD.

Finally I would like to thank my family – first my parents John
and Yvonne for trying their best to understand my projects and being
enormously supportive regardless of their success. My ‘beaux-parents’
Denis and Monique for the French summers and the generous use of
their house for writing holidays and finally and most importantly my
long-suffering wife Elise and children Pépin and Lily who have stoically
endured my long periods of window-gazing, stress induced grumpiness
and research-related time away from home. I wouldn’t have survived
without you!

Thanks to you all!
Introduction

When I began this thesis, some four years ago, my core
question was centred on the impending arrival of domestic robots,<fnref n="1" />
asking how practice-based design research could contribute to a
better understanding of robots and the potential implications of their
application in our homes. During this early period much time was spent
researching the recent history of the robot in various disparate contexts,
such as the films and novels of science fiction, advanced research
laboratories, the corporate world of technology fairs and in some of our
homes today. I quickly made the observation that aside from the last
category, the majority of robots reside at polar opposites of social and
cultural existence, being either entirely utopian (corporate futures) or
dystopian (science fiction). In semiotic terms, the robot has effectively
become a messenger for various vested futures, and its enduring

<footnote n="1">1. For instance, see Bill Gates' article in *Scientific American*: 'A Robot in Every Home' (2007).</footnote>
presence in these future visions means that it has the ability to mutate
and to evolve in tune with our dreams, hopes and fears. The philosopher
of technology, Langdon Winner, suggested that "it is not uncommon for
the advent of a new technology to provide for flights of utopian fancy"
(1986, p.106). Alternatively, through the lens of science fiction, emerging
technology can equally provide for flights of dystopian horror. And so
the robot (as an example of advanced technology) has taken us on many
such journeys: from the vast humanoid servants of the 1940s<fnref n="2" /> and
the sinister semi-synthetic replicants of the 1980s<fnref n="3" /> to the swarming
medical nano-bots<fnref n="4" /> being proposed today. Whilst these visions of the
technological future frequently exist at the polar extremes of possibility,
contemporary everyday life does not; why is it that our future lives are so
frequently portrayed in such dramatic and sensational ways?

As an aside from thinking about robots, I began reading Ray
Bradbury's *The Martian Chronicles* and discovered something in his
storytelling that made the human habitation of Mars conceptually more
plausible than human co-habitation with many of the robots I had been
researching. So often with technological futures, spectacular technology
is cast as the lead character with people relegated to a generic support
cast. In *The Martian Chronicles* I instead found radical techno-facilitated
future scenarios described from personal, touching and very human
perspectives. Taking inspiration from Bradbury I began to refine my

<footnote n="2">2. See Electro, p.56, the humanoid robot exhibited by the Westinghouse Corporation at the 1939 New York World Fair.</footnote>

<footnote n="3">3. As portrayed in films such as 'Robocop' (Verhoeven, 1987), 'Terminator' (Cameron, 1984) and 'Blade Runner' (Scott, 1982).</footnote>

<footnote n="4">4. A common future application suggested for nanotechnology. See Patel, G M (2006).</footnote>
original question to ask: 'How can practice-based design research
craft and communicate plausible, engaging and critical speculations
on the technological future?' In effect a shift took place, with the
robot becoming the vehicle for a study on speculative design and its
methods for imagining and presenting technological future concepts
and critiques.

'Chapter one: Understanding robots' examines historical depictions of robots. The malleability of the noun *robot* means that tying down its meaning to a particular object or single definitive portrayal is impossible. I therefore begin by settling on an appropriate definition that will be applied throughout the thesis. I then look to the science of ecology for help in understanding how an organism is defined by the complex relationship between itself and its local environment. This discipline has given us the concepts of taxonomy, habitat and the ecosystem<fnref n="5" /> as ways to better understand the interactions that take place in nature. These prove insightful when applied to robots in specificity.

'Chapter two: Why technology *does not* become a product' takes the findings of the previous chapter one stage further to propose reasons why robots are not, in any prolific way, becoming domestic products. The survey comprises an analysis of what I call 'spectacular robots' - those in the cultural domain that exist to capture our imagination and raise expectation, but fundamentally have yet to make it into our homes. Many common proposals display a distinct lack of common sense when it comes to domestic application: 80 year-

<footnote n="5">5. These terms will be described in chapter one.</footnote>
old promises of labour-free lifestyles that continue to this day;<sup>6</sup> of
facile functions for sublime technologies;<sup>7</sup> of hidden political agendas
influencing future visions;<sup>8</sup> and perhaps most disturbing, of advocated
visions for our future selves that effectively turn us into robots.<sup>9</sup> There is
an enduring level of excitement and interest in domestic robots despite
the lack of tangible progress. It is though, a dream in need of revision;
stereotypical images and well-trodden concepts pervade, limiting
potential through blinkering the imagination from new approaches. This
chapter examines contemporary robots and why, in their current state,
they are essentially maladapted for the domestic habitat.

'Chapter three: The domestic ecology: How technology does become a product' explores the circumstances and conditions behind the successful introduction of a new technological product into everyday life. I first look to the theory of domestication for clues as to how a wild and independent beast can be transformed into a pliable creature existing solely for the service of humans. I compare the paths taken by two very familiar and successful household products, the dog<sup>10</sup> and the computer, exploring how the domestication process changes the original object in terms of form, function, behaviour and modes of interaction.

<footnote n="6">6. The utopian promises expressed through Electro can still be seen in many contemporary robots such as Honda's Asimo. See p.57 for elaboration.</footnote>

<footnote n="7">7. For example, see roboticist Rodney Brookes' suggestion for an automated dining table, p.62.</footnote>

<footnote n="8">8. For example, see chapter two on Cold War agendas and the subsequent effect on technological development, p.60.</footnote>

<footnote n="9">9. Certain factions of the Artificial Intelligence community predict a coming together of the human mind with the computer. See section on Ray Kurzweil, p.88.</footnote>

<footnote n="10">10. At first glance it seems odd to call the dog a product. However, its objectification through the process of domestication has resulted in an animal very far removed from its natural origins. We could argue that it is a *product* of 12,000-15,000 years of selective breeding.</footnote>
‘Chapter four: Speculative design: The products that technology could become’ describes how speculative design can develop and present future or alternative technological applications. Speculative design proposals are essentially tools for questioning. Their aim is therefore not to propose implementable product solutions, nor to offer answers to the questions they pose; they are intended to act like a mirror reflecting the role a specific technology plays or may play in each of our lives, instigating contemplation and discussion. Here I outline two approaches:

First, through informed extrapolations of existing product lineages, ‘speculative futures’ imagine and present near-future products, systems and services. These are intended to act like a cultural litmus paper, testing and examining the implications of an emerging technology before we commit to specific applications or research directions.

Second, ‘alternative presents’ are speculative design proposals that question existing paradigms through the design of products and services that utilise contemporary technology but crucially apply different ideologies to those currently directing product development. These are speculations on how things could be, had different choices been made in previous times, and are used to examine the values of contemporary products.

I will describe, through case studies, how these two forms of speculation are crafted, specifically what informs the development, aesthetics, behaviour, interaction and function of the designed object. Once created, how and where do they operate? How can we gauge and understand their impact and meaning? Fundamental to projects based on emerging technology is expert knowledge on the subject, and many speculative design projects are therefore developed in collaboration
with scientists. I describe how the collaborative element can be
managed to best advantage.

'Chapter 5: Speculative robots' comprises three projects that examine how robot-related technologies could become products, applying the observations made in chapter three and the methodologies described in chapter four to the design of domestic robots. It begins with the Carnivorous Domestic Entertainment Robots developed in collaboration with designer Jimmy Loizeau and engineer Alex Zivanovic. This project was initiated at the beginning of the thesis and laid the early foundations to my thinking on robots. The project grapples with some of the key design issues that relate to everyday life and robots, specifically how they look and what they do.

Second is Happylife in collaboration with Aberystwyth
University Computer Science Department, utilising the facial and
thermal recognition technology they are developing for application in
border control. The project imagines the application of this technology
in a family home over a 15-year period.

Third, I describe a four-week project I ran with the first-year
students on the Design Interactions course at the Royal College of Art
(RCA), titled ‘Living with robots’. The brief was written with the specific
intent of addressing some of the issues outlined in chapter two.

This thesis is an enquiry into robots and their potential roles
in near-future everyday life. However, it must be re-emphasised that
the robot element is a vehicle. The real investigation is into speculative
design and how it can be used to examine and question technological
development and its subsequent application in everyday life. The
methods developed and described here could therefore equally be
applied to other forms of emergent technology to speculate on the
products that could arise as a consequence of *their* domestication.
The significant underlying factor is the people who use, who benefit from, are modified by, who delight in, who fear and who increasingly rely on technology and the products that emerge from its research and development.

<figure><img src="image_7.png" /></figure>
ı
Understanding
robots

Promiscuous robots: *The challenge of definition*

In a thesis about robots it is necessary to begin with a
definition of the subject. This is by no means an easy task. The noun
*robot* does not refer to one specific object; it is not based on a singular
technology, context or function, and whilst certain stereotypical robot
forms such as anthropomorphic pervade, other diverse and surprising
configurations of technology can also be considered a robot. The
definition for such a broad range of possibility is by necessity vague.

In *Philosophical Investigations*, Wittgenstein approaches
the subject of games: board games, card games, ball games, Olympic
games and so on. He asks: "What is common to them all? - Don't
say: 'There *must* be something common, or they would not be called
"games"' - but *look and see* whether there is anything common to all."
He concludes that there is not something that is common to *all* but "a
complicated network of similarities overlapping and criss-crossing:
sometimes overall similarities, sometimes similarities of detail.” (1998, P.31). Wittgenstein ultimately characterises these similarities as family resemblances.

This is helpful in generating a pragmatic understanding of robots - indeed we can begin by listing the family traits commonly associated with things robotic<fnref n="11" /> but still the problem of definition persists. First, unlike ‘game’, when used as a noun in popular culture, ‘robot’ is commonly used without a qualifier.<fnref n="12" /> This suggests the existence of a generic notion, the mythical or iconic image of the robot. Second, unlike a game, the robot can exist simultaneously in multiple contexts and planes of reality, and for a multitude of reasons: as a functional engineered machine operating autonomously on a production line such as an industrial robot; as a corporate vision of the future such as a humanoid robot; as a complex construct of fiction such as an android,<fnref n="13" /> or as a high-street product such as a robotic vacuum cleaner. And whilst the promiscuity of the generic concept of robots often leads to a blurring of these worlds, the *actual* artefact is very poor at migrating between them: fictional robots rarely become products.

The word robot has its etymologic roots in the play *Rossum's Universal Robots* (RUR) by the Czech writer Karel Čapek. Here the contemporary dichotomy of fiction and reality combine: artificial

<footnote n="11">11. Family resemblances include: autonomy, movement, mechanisms, sensing, artificial intelligence, programming, agency, anthropomorphism and zoomorphism.</footnote>

<footnote n="12">12. Whilst this is rarely the case in academia, where most research focuses on a specific branch of robotics such as ‘humanoid’ or ‘social’ usage, less expert circles commonly leave out the classification - for example Bill Gates’ 2006 article in *American Scientist*: ‘A Robot in Every Home’. For a more thorough investigation into this article see p.125.</footnote>

<footnote n="13">13. A type of robot commonly featured in science fiction: a synthetic organism built to look and behave like a human.</footnote>
humans (androids) operating as inexpensive production line workers,
the word robot suggesting work, cheap labour or servitude in Slavic
languages. Whilst there is a long history of objects, both real and
fictional, that could have been labelled as robots before Čapek coined
the term,<fnref n="14" /> this moment (1920) serves as a sensible point from which
to initiate the research - RUR was one of the first major works to move
the robot beyond the world of magic and illusion and into the real world
of manufacture and production. At the same time it built on a history
of previous fictions such as the Jewish legend of the golem, several
Greek mythologies such as 'Pygmalion' and 'Daedalus', and Mary Shelly's
'Frankenstein', in exploring the creation of artificial life and its potential
implications.

In the years following RUR, fiction and reality diverged as
Čapek's vision of automation came true, but the robots designed to
operate on production lines emerged out of a logical progression
of Fordism<fnref n="15" /> - and, as such, manufacturing engineering and market
demands informed form and behaviour rather than historical notions of
humanoids. This engineering approach and the relative uniformity of the
industrial robot has influenced many recent attempts at definition - for
example the Robot Institute of America suggest the following:

"A re-programmable, multifunctional manipulator designed to move material, parts, tools, or specialized devices through

<footnote n="14">14. Previously called 'automaton', examples include Wolfgang von Kempelen's 'Mechanical Turk' and Vaucanson's 'Canard Digérateur'. These were mostly illusions built to perform and entertain.</footnote>

<footnote n="15">15. "The eponymous manufacturing system designed to spew out standardised, low-cost goods and afford its workers decent enough wages to buy them." (De Grazia, 2005, p. 4).</footnote>
various programmed motions for the performance of a variety
of tasks.” (1979)

More recently the International Federation for Robotics (IFR)
divide robots into two categories: industrial and service. Their definition
of an industrial robot is not dissimilar to the above. A service robot they
tentatively define as follows:

"A service robot is a robot which operates semi- or fully autonomously to perform services useful to the wellbeing of humans and equipment, excluding manufacturing operations." (2007)

Had the success of industrial robots diminished our
fascination, or distracted us from more dramatic or sensational robots,
then the above definitions would do, but the robot in contemporary
culture has been far more influenced by the drama of science fiction
and the theatre of the technology fair than the reality of the production
line - and it is this spectacular image that continues to dominate public
perception. Largely influential in this shaping of the popular robot was
the Westinghouse Electric Corporation's Electro, a giant metal, walking,
talking robotic man presented at the 1939 New York World Fair. Whilst
this was not the first humanoid robot,<fnref n="16" /> Electro's importance was in
starting the trend for suggesting that robots could enter the home
as domestic helpers. This presented an optimistic version of Čapek's
cautionary tale and created a positive vision of the robotic future that

<footnote n="16">16. See p.56.</footnote>
persists to this day. At this time, robots in fiction continue to be far more advanced than their real-life counterparts, but research continues to reduce this disparity and is a major motivational force in contemporary science and engineering.

It is now time to conclude with a hard definition of the robot, as this will help locate the technological and cultural boundaries of the research. We need a more considered way of classifying robots, effectively a robot taxonomy.<fnref n="17" /> Taxonomies exist as a form of biological classification and began as a precursor to the study of the more intricate problems of animal communities (Elton, 1966, p.6). Here I will effectively be studying robot communities, and therefore many of the classification methods used by ecologists are helpful in developing a more thorough understanding of robots; these will be described in detail in the next chapter. Second, for the purposes of this essay it is important to state that the robots of interest here relate to domestic application, either through promise or suggestion.

In terms of actual definition, it is necessary to apply a rather broad set of criteria and in doing so give space for a rethinking of the term and its materialisation. The most minimal, generally accepted defining factors, and those that I will apply in this thesis are as follows: 'for a *thing* to be considered a 'robot' it should be able to sense and interpret in some fashion its environment, compute decisions based on that sensory information, and then act on those decisions in some mechanical way. This statement satisfies from a technical perspective,

<footnote n="17">17. Whilst this would be extremely helpful in creating a more comprehensive definition of the robot, it is beyond the scope of this thesis. What follows is a more general study of robot-related activity and an examination of contextual existence.</footnote>
but its dryness fails to reflect the mythical or emotive factor commonly
associated with robots. To the technical definition I then add: 'the
complexity or sublimity of either the sensing, computing or mechanics
should elevate the status of robotic object above that normally ascribed
to machines or products.<fnref n="18" />

Robot ecologies

Many robots, both historical and contemporary, allude to
becoming a part of our domestic lives, but the examples that served
to fuel our desires and whet our appetites turned out to be mostly red
herrings; products of complex motivations and hidden agendas never
actually intended for application in our homes. Applying an ecological
approach will help to demystify the existence of these robots. The word
'ecology' is derived from the Greek *oikos*, meaning 'house' or 'place to
live'. Literally, ecology is the study of organisms 'at home' (Odum, 1971,
p.3). What is of particular relevance here is this notion of 'home'; of
studying the organism not in isolation but in the environment in which
it exists.<fnref n="19" />

“When an ecologist says ‘there goes a badger’, he should include

<footnote n="18">18. In *The System of Objects*, Baudrillard describes pets as an intermediate category between human beings and objects (1996, p.95). Using this method of categorisation, robots could be an intermediate category between objects and pets.</footnote>

<footnote n="19">19. From here on I will refer to this notion of *home* in the ecologists' more official term *habitat* to avoid confusion with the cultural use of the word home.</footnote>
in his thoughts some definite idea of the animal's place in the
community to which it belongs, just as if he had said, 'there
goes the vicar'.” (Elton, 1927, p.64).

This advice from Charles Elton, one of the pioneers of natural
ecology, is particularly helpful as it features both natural and cultural
habitats, and hints at the layered and dynamic organisation of both
domains. An expanded view of the habitat leads to the ecosystem and
its sublime complexity, here described by the writer John Steinbeck:

> "One merges into another, groups melt into ecological groups until the time when what we know as life meets and enters what we think of as non-life: barnacle and rock, rock and earth, earth and tree, tree and rain and air. And the units nestle into the whole and are inseparable from it ... all things are one thing and one thing is all things – plankton, a shimmering phosphorescence on the sea and the spinning planets and an expanding universe, all bound together by the elastic string of time. It is advisable to look from the tide pool to the stars and then back to the tide pool again." (2000, pp.178-79)

Steinbeck's description of marine life poetically captures the complexity of scales, timeframes and interactions that operate in a natural ecosystem, a complexity that is echoed in technological and cultural systems. Factors within the system and the habitat itself are instrumental in shaping the evolution of the organism (and the artefact), defining its form and behaviour and ultimately its chances of survival in that habitat. These defining criteria apply equally to robots; the existential criteria for a robot in the academic domain are therefore
completely different from those in the corporate world, in science
fiction, and in everyday life. And it is by the last set of criteria that robots
need to comply if they are to succeed in entering our homes.

Robot raisons d'être

Elton's subjects are again helpful in addressing the complex
question of existence – for example through asking the question - what
is the badger's reason to be? – the fundamental difference between
natural and artificial existence is exposed. This has long been the
subject of study for both philosophers and biologists, and relates
specifically to the subject of purpose. In his book on the natural history
of life, Professor Richard Fortey notes: "it is attractive to compare
natural evolution to a capitalist enterprise with an eye to ever increasing
sales and productivity" (1998, p.26). However, unlike technological
change, natural selection does not occur through goal-directed
functions under the guidance of human intention, purpose or foresight.<fnref n="20" />
In terms of the analogy between natural organisms and robots, this
substantial difference in raison d'être is not problematic; the notions of
habitat, adaptation and survival can still be applied to robots so long as
it is acknowledged that behind every robot there are a variety of human

<footnote n="20">20. The term teleonomy was coined during the mid-20th century to specifically address the issue of the lack of a goal or foresight in the evolutionary process. This differentiates it from the Aristotelian term teleology, inferring either progress at the hands of man or supernatural forces such as a divine being. For further reading, see Grace A De Laguna's essay, 'The Role of Teleonomy in Evolution' (1962).</footnote>
<figure><img src="image_8.png" /><figcaption>Fig.1: A simplistic robot ecosystem, emphasising the layers and scales of existence.</figcaption></figure>

Layer 1 is the human scale and relates to the individual responsible for the physical creation of the robot. Layer 2 is the institution or corporate scale and represents the company or research laboratory the individuals described in layer 1 are employed or funded by. Layer 3 is the cultural scale and represents the culture in which the laboratory (layer 2) operates. Layer 4 is the societal scale and incorporates the historical and political issues that shape culture (level 3).
motivations at play. The layered approach used by ecologists is helpful
here because the questions of intent and purpose can be asked at the
various levels of existence: the individuals who conceive and build the
robot; the employer or institution in which this activity takes place; and
the cultural, social, political and historical factors at play in supporting
or influencing this activity.

Figure 1 represents the layers and interactions in a modern technological system. The artefact (or its image) can migrate between layers - for example, technology developed in a commercial laboratory can shift up one layer when presented at a technology fair; the impact of this presentation might influence the policy makers operating at the societal level, encouraging them to finance the research at the company level, therefore eventually feeding back into the layer of creation. This example describes a common route through which technology migrates from the world of research and development into the commercial market. It is a migration that the majority of robots have yet to make,<fnref n="21" /> even though it has been alluded to, promised or perhaps in some cases just dreamed of for the past 70 years or more. This enduring presence suggests other more complex raisons d'être that have maintained the robot's unique place and value in popular culture. These will be explored in the next chapter.

<footnote n="21">21. One obvious exception is the robot vacuum cleaner. I will explore this product and how it managed to enter our homes in the following chapter.</footnote>
<figure><img src="image_9.png" /></figure>
之
Why technology does not become a product: Ecological maladaptation and disrepute

This chapter examines possible reasons why robots are yet to make it into our homes in the spectacular ways promised or proposed by roboticists, corporations and science fiction writers. I will expand on the ecological theme laid out in the previous chapter to suggest, through the use of case studies, that the majority of proposals for domestic robots are developed for other habitats and are therefore essentially maladapted for domestic use.

The evolutionary biologist Theodosius Dobzhansky defines adaptation as “the evolutionary process whereby an organism becomes better able to live in its habitat” (1968, p.1). This definition is helpful because it describes the dynamic relationship between the organism
and its environment. By applying this concept to robots a few key
observations can be made.

First, as described in the previous chapter, there is no goal or
intention driving adaptation and development in nature. Technological
development, however, is driven by extremely complex and diverse
human motivations; whilst it has been inferred, these motivations are
not necessarily related to bringing robots into the home.

Second, the current habitats where robots do exist such
as laboratories and science fairs are considerably different from
the habitat of the home. Images of robots from these habitats enter
popular culture as false or premature promises. These act to perpetuate
stereotypes, taint perceptions and sell promises that are extremely
difficult to realise.

Third, adaptation suggests the organism has lineage in the
given habitat. Robots in their current guises have no such lineage in
the home. This raises the question of how robots evolve? What are
they currently being adapted to? And how might a lineage start in the
domestic habitat.

The following examples of ecological maladaptation do not
comprise an exhaustive study but rather the seven examples are each
intended to make one particular point or argument relating to why
robots are not becoming products. These examples will each expand
on the three observations made above, examining the habitats and
existence of several key robots.
Spectacular robots and technological dreams:

*Motivations of creation*

I begin the list by examining one of the more enduring motivations behind the development of robots: the *challenge* of creating artificial life. In *The Evolution of Technology*, George Basalla offers clues to the allure of this quest in his description of technological dreams:

> "Technological dreams are the machines, proposals, and visions generated by the technical community, whether in the Renaissance or the present time. They epitomise the technologists' propensity to go beyond what is technically feasible. Fanciful creations of this kind provide an entry into the richness of the imagination and into the sources of the novelty that is at the heart of Western technology." (Basalla, 1988, p.66)

In the history of their development, many technologies go through an initial period of existing as a technological dream on route to either being discarded and forgotten or applied in useful machines and products. The fact that after countless years of development, iteration and promise robots are yet to make either transition leads to the conclusion that they are a *recurring* technological dream.

The key explanation for the longevity of robotic technological dreams is found in Basalla's defining characteristic: that they epitomise the technologists' propensity to go beyond what is technically feasible. As the renowned philosopher of science Karl Popper pointed out in a 1973 lecture on obstacles to scientific progress: "obstacles which are
<figure><img src="image_10.png" /><figcaption>Fig.2: Journey of a technology showing the habitat of both technological dream and product.</figcaption></figure>
due to the inherent difficulty of the problems tackled are welcome
challenges. (Indeed, many scientists were greatly disappointed
when it turned out that the problem of tapping nuclear energy was
comparatively trivial.)" (1973, cited in Harré, 1975). For the scientists
involved in the mechanical, electronic, synthetic or biological replication
of life, the related obstacles and problems are far from trivial - and
consequently, for numerous generations robots have constituted the
perfect technological dream. The following passage from the founding
father of cybernetics, Norbert Wiener, describes this relation between
time, technology and automata:

> "This desire to produce and study automata has always been expressed in terms of the living technique of the age. In the days of magic, we have the bizarre and sinister concept of the Golem, that figure of clay into which the Rabbi of Prague breathed life with the blasphemy of the Ineffable name of God. In the time of Newton, the automaton becomes a clockwork music box, with the little effigies pirouetting stiffly on top. In the nineteenth century the automaton is a glorified heat engine, burning some combustible fuel instead of the glycogen of the human muscles. Finally, the present automaton opens doors by the means of photocells, or points guns to the place at which a radar beam picks up an airplane, or computes the solution of a differential equation." (Wiener, 1965, p.40)

Wiener's role as commentator for this theme is not accidental,
as it is through the continuing development of his theories in the field
of cybernetics<fnref n="22" /> that we find one of the vanguards of contemporary robotic research. Until the mid-20th century, roboticists had focused almost entirely on the physical replication of the organism; these robots could be seen as products of the industrial revolution and its effect on production, mechanisation and material. At this time, sentience or intelligence was merely a fictional ploy used by creators to enhance the allure of the object.<fnref n="23" /> Cybernetics, according to Wiener, would represent a “second revolution… whose object is the replacement of the human brain” (Ellul, 1964, p.42). The emergent notion of Artificial Intelligence (AI) provided a whole new impetus for robot-related research, and a fresh profound challenge that continues to this day.

The robots of today's technological dreams are far removed from their clockwork predecessors. The limitations placed on the early automata by the available materials and clunky movement of clockwork mechanisms mean that by contemporary standards they resemble clumsy and unrefined representations of the natural artefact. Today, a more advanced understanding of nature<fnref n="24" /> combined with the vast advances made in material and manufacturing technology has led to the existence of truly sublime kinetic robots. The robots developed and built by the Bionic Learning Network,<fnref n="25" /> for example, exhibit behaviour and

<footnote n="22">22. From the Greek for steersman, defined by Wiener as the theory of control and communication in both machines and animals and focused largely on feedback mechanisms.</footnote>

<footnote n="23">23. For example the 'Chess Playing Turk'.</footnote>

<footnote n="24">24. This practice has recently been classified as a science: the scientist and author Janine Benyus, in her 1997 book *Biomimicry: Innovation Inspired by Nature*, defines this practice as a "new science that studies nature's models and then imitates or takes inspiration from these designs and processes to solve human problems" (Benyus, 1997, p.xx).</footnote>

<footnote n="25">25. Collaboration between the automation and tool company Festo and several universities, institutes and development companies.</footnote>
<figure><img src="image_11.png" /><figcaption>Figs. 3-4: Robots developed by the Bionic Learning Network (Festo). Clockwise from top left: AirJelly; AquaJelly; AquaPenguin; AirPenguin (2009-2010).</figcaption></figure>
<figure><img src="image_12.png" /><figcaption>Figs. 5-6: Robots developed by the Bionic Learning Network (Festo). Clockwise from top left: AirJelly; AquaJelly; AquaPenguin; AirPenguin (2009-2010).</figcaption></figure>
movement that words and images struggle to do justice to.

The challenge of replicating nature remains as popular as ever, and as such many contemporary robots, in some way, have their genesis in a technological dream. These robots exist as products of their inventors' profound technological or philosophical imagination and ability - and as such the habitat they have been developed for is one of a purely technological nature, removed from any suggestion of useful domestic application or market appeal. As George Basalla concludes his chapter on technological dreams: "the argument that economic incentives were the driving force behind the invention and patenting of the majority of novel artefacts is not persuasive... technological dreamers [who] repeatedly, enthusiastically, and ingeniously provide solutions to problems that are mainly of concern to themselves." (1988, p.71).

From the outset, the robots that emerge from technological dreams are simply motivated by pushing the limits of knowledge and the intellectual pleasures of an extreme challenge. At this time there appears to be little end to both the developmental potential of the techniques and therefore the sustainability of the quest.
Manifested dreams: *The theatre of robots*
*and myths of progress*

‘Manifested dreams’ follows the progression of the technological dream to explore motivations in the outer layers of the robot ecosystem: the value to the corporation, institution or political party.

Rather than gathering dust on the shelves of their creator's workshops, the robots of technological dreams frequently transcend this isolation to become messengers for techno-utopian futures played out publicly in technology fairs, through the media or at laboratory open houses. This point looks at how and why the significant dreams realised by practitioners elevate their laboratory or workshop status and, more importantly, why these visions are not necessarily the precursors to domestic products. The study begins early in the 20th century, for it was during this period that the modern notion of the robot was formed. For almost a hundred years the popular press has been filled with stories of technological futures resembling those generated by science fiction writers, but purporting to be near-future science fact. The robots featured in many of these articles have their origins in genuine technical concepts, but the complexity and intangibility of an emerging technology means that there is limited potential to communicate its commercial or functional value to a non-expert audience. By exploiting the essential function of the technology to create spectacular and compelling demonstrations of potential products, a more tangible value can be presented to the world. Through this *productification*, an emerging technology is effectively transformed into a form of currency; in the eyes of the consumer or potential benefactor, hypothetical
products communicate value far more succinctly than complex scientific or technical purity.

As a currency, the robot has clear value beyond the technology pertaining to facilitate its future existence. For reasons of simplicity I will break down this value into two strands: ‘business value’, the benefit to the company behind the development of technology, and ‘political value’, the benefit to those supporting or commissioning technological research and development.

## Business value: *Corporate agendas*

If we look behind the utopian promises made by corporate culture, it becomes apparent that many robots are primarily high-profile promotion tools - a role that they have successfully retained since the late 1920s. This *habitat* is more comparable to a circus or theatre than the home, so whilst there are often suggestions of domestic function such as housekeeping duties or caring for the elderly, the primary role of the robot is that of performer: captivating, entertaining and communicating to a wide-eyed audience the technical prowess or imagination of the organisation behind the spectacle. The robot perfectly suited for this role is the humanoid.<fnref n="26" /> As mentioned in chapter one, Westinghouse Corporation's Electro was a major factor in shaping our culture's expectation of the robot; the following excerpt, from an interview with the engineer behind Electro's technology, is insightful in exposing how innovative engineering can be extrapolated into something far more profound:

<footnote n="26">26. A robot based on human form. These captivate for reasons outlined in chapter one: our enduring fascination with the replication of the human.</footnote>
“Now comes the funny part of the story. I, of course, was an ordinary engineer, thinking only of engineering matters and the ways and means of accomplishing certain technical problems. In building this machine, my only thought was the remote control of the substations. I little knew what I was getting into, because I set the thing up in the laboratory and made it work. We set up this device and began to operate it from different telephones and showed it off to some people who were interested. I took one of them down to the vice-president's office. He became fascinated with it and called in a lot of other people. Then the publicity department wanted to see it. They said, 'Why you have a mechanical man here. That is a good story for the newspapers. I am sure we can get a few publicity articles in some of the New York papers.' So as a result, I was instructed to take this to New York a year ago last October and set it up in our New York office, and display it to our newspapers. This machine that could talk over the telephone and carry out orders. I did and the reporters came and saw it, asking many questions about future applications and what else it could do. The next morning I got up and I went to my hotel door and picked up the morning paper. I picked it up to find out what the morning papers had to say about my machine.

I ran through the paper and didn't find it. I was considerably disappointed. It was my first contact with the newspapers and I was curious to know what they would say. There on the front page was: 'Inventor shows mechanical servant solving all the housekeeping problems of the age.' I found that my poor little electrical machine was going to sweep, clean, dust, take care of the baby and everything else that ever happened, but of course
such was not the case. I have a dickens of a time explaining
to ladies in audiences that this machine couldn't do all those
jobs." (Schaut, n.d., p.23).

The success of these early demonstrations encouraged Westinghouse to develop more sophisticated staged events, culminating in their now famous presentation of Electro at the 1939 New York World Fair. Similar events this century, such as the live performances of Honda's Asimo (fig.8), highlight how little has changed: public crowds gathering to witness spectacular future technologies performing on stage under the banner of a large corporation. The technology has advanced and the forms are modernised, but the fundamental relationship between the robot and the audience remains the same.

On stage (as in fiction) robots can be messengers for spectacular technological futures, because in this habitat they are not constrained by the rules of everyday life: they do not need to be developed and manufactured to an affordable purchase price; they do not require a plausible function; and they do not need to fit aesthetically into the contemporary domestic landscape. The basic rule defining form and behaviour is spectacle - the more captivating this is, the bigger and more engaged the audience; an audience that will duly be convinced of the imagination, creativity and technical skills of the corporation behind its production. Seventy years separate Electro from Asimo and the other humanoid robots vying for our attention today, and whilst the technology has made enormous advances, the natural habitat of humanoid robots remains almost entirely the same.
<figure><img src="image_13.png" /><figcaption>Fig.7: Jamming every inch of space in the huge hall of Electrical Living at the Westinghouse Building, crowds watch Electro, the Westinghouse Moto-Man, perform his 26 mechanical tricks, including walking, talking, smoking a cigarette and counting his fingers (Image and text: Schaut, 2006, p.119).</figcaption></figure>

<figure><img src="image_14.png" /><figcaption>Fig.8: Asimo (Honda, 2000), playing football.</figcaption></figure>
## Political value: *Myths of progress*

A deeper investigation into the outer levels of the robot ecosystem (fig.1, layer 4) reveals the degree to which a prevailing political agenda can direct the inner levels of technological and scientific research and development. Regarding the related issues of national defence and the spending of public money, a politician's role could be seen as juggling the need to financially support technological research aimed at bolstering the nation's defences,<fnref n="27" /> whilst at the same time maintaining public morale and support through propaganda and the popularisation of that technology. No period better illustrates this complex relationship than the 1960s, and the role the Cold War played in progressing certain strands of controversial scientific research and increasing levels of propaganda through spectacular and very tangible uses of technology.

> "We set sail on this new sea because there is new knowledge to be gained, and new rights to be won, and they must be won and used for the progress of all people."

> (John F Kennedy's Moon Speech, Rice Stadium, 12 September 1962)

In his account of these events, John M Logson describes the short-term and more lasting impact of the Apollo programme on US international prestige and associated national pride (2010, p.238), and

<footnote n="27">27. A poignant example and one that had major influence on the Cold War period was the role of computer technology in deciphering the German Enigma code in World War Two.</footnote>
how the early psychological and political advantages of Soviet space
successes were quickly and effectively countered through the Moon
mission. Three years later, at the 1964 New York World Fair, spectacular
exhibits such as the Eero Saarinen - designed IBM pavilion, with content
by Charles and Ray Eames, revealed how this backdrop of profound
technological development, Cold War fears and the spectacular
challenge of the space programme were impacting on popular culture.
The social theorist Richard Barbrook points out, in his aptly titled
book *Imaginary Futures* (2007), how iconography and fetishisation
were, for the first time, used to deny the principal use value of these
new technologies (p.33) through neatly disguising them as profound
benefactors to humanity. At the heart of the IBM pavilion was the Eames'
multimedia, multi-sensory presentation, describing in highly aesthetic
terms the benefits of this emerging technology – or, as Barbrook
concludes, “In the IBM pavilion, the new technology of computing was
displayed as the fulfilment of a science fiction fantasy: *the imaginary
future of artificial intelligence.*” (p.21). Building on the 1950s positivistic
image of the robot acquired through television series such as ‘Robby
the Robot’, and some of the science fiction works of Isaac Asimov,
IBM presented the utopian public face of Cold War developments in
cybernetics.

In both the above cases, the robot's (or AI's) role is that of
messenger, representing a vision of a future made better through the
progress of technology. Electro, the IBM pavilion and Asimo portray the
same utopian promise, simply updated through advances in mechanical,
electronic and computer technologies. Behind the glossy and
spectacular facades, however, lurk different agendas not necessarily
related to bringing these technologies into our homes or lives. So long
as 'technological dreams' retain their imaginary value, politicians,
corporations and institutions will continue to present misleading or
extravagant interpretations of technology and how it might be used in
the future.

When we are presented with technological visions of the
future, it is necessary to look beyond the spectacle and imagine the
proposition not on stage or screen but in real life, applying the banal
but very realistic constraints this would impose. At the same time it
is helpful to remember that quite often vested interests are operating
behind the scenes.

## Robotic research: *My home is not a laboratory*

Directly installing a laboratory robot into the habitat of
everyday life would expose it to the rules of domestic life, modern
consumer culture and the vagaries of taste and fashion. Research
culture has its own rules and expectations that define a robot's form and
behaviour, but fundamentally these are quite different from those in the
home. For a laboratory robot to successfully enter everyday life, it would
effectively need to go through the process of adaptation. I have broken
this down into three categories: functional adaptation (what robots do),
form adaptation (how robots look), and interactive adaptation (how we
interact with robots). In reality it is through a complex combination of
these three elements that a domestic object finds its value. However, for
many robots these factors remain quite disparate research themes.
Functional adaptation: *The niche*

Building on the ideas of Charles Elton (see p.38), ontologists Barry Smith and Achille Varzi liken the world of functional niches to “a giant evolutionary hotel, some of whose rooms are occupied (by organisms which have evolved to fill them), some of whose rooms are for a variety of reasons unoccupied but can become occupied in the future” (1999, p.4). Taking the idea of this “evolutionary hotel” into the realm of robots, we could imagine a room inhabited by industrial robots that have filled the niche for delivering cheap and accurate labour. Another room could be inhabited by military robots whose niche is operation in dangerous or inhospitable environments. There might be a science fiction room with futuristic spectacular robots or a room for science fairs occupied by shiny humanoid robots. Aside from the occasional vacuum cleaner, the rooms that represent the home remain mostly empty; the robot is yet to find a genuine functional niche in the home.

Proposing a clear and justifiable domestic function for their robots is the fundamental factor so often overlooked by roboticists. In his book *Enough*, Bill McKibben uses the following future proposition by the prominent roboticist Rodney Brookes to pose the question, how could daily material life be dramatically improved by the next dose of technology?

“Perhaps in the future our dining room tables will also be the place that we store all our dishes when we are not using them, in a large container under the tabletop surface. When we want to set the table, small robotic arms, not unlike the ones in a jukebox, will bring the required dishes and cutlery out onto the place settings. As each course is finished, the table and its
little robotic arms could grab the plates and devour them into
the large internal volume underneath. With direct water hook-
ups into our dining rooms, much as we have them now in our
kitchens, the dining room table could also be the dishwasher.
It would wash the dishes after each meal and leave them down
in its recesses, waiting for the next meal at which they are
needed.” (Rodney Brookes, cited in McKibben, 2004, p.121)

Brookes' table-cleaning robot, described above, is an example
of advanced technology in desperate search of an application. A lack of
imagination leads to following the traditional lineage of labour-saving
devices. Whilst this lineage gives the proposal a plausible logic, it
ignores the basic rule of 'cost versus benefit'. The fact is that the obvious
labour-saving devices in the home have already been built in the form
of white goods. The necessary complexity of a machine to complete the
remaining domestic tasks such as shirt-folding or dishwasher emptying
means that it is unlikely that in the near-future the benefits will ever
outweigh the costs, yet labour-saving tasks remain one of the most
common functions proposed for domestic robots.

Another popular proposition in the robotics community is
'care' robots for elderly people. As ethicist Robert Sparrow and aged
care consultant Linda Sparrow point out in their essay on the subject,
it is "remarkable just how much robotics research, if it is not being
sponsored by the military, is promoted by appealing to the idea that
the only way to deal with a looming demographic crisis is to develop
robots to look after older persons!" (2006, p.142). A brief glance at the
technology press reveals an excess of care robots both in development
and already on the market. Whilst the issue of providing care for older
members of society is a genuine and potentially grave problem (unlike
<figure><img src="image_15.png" /><figcaption>Fig.9: Kompaï by Robosoft.</figcaption></figure>

<figure><img src="image_16.png" /><figcaption>Fig.10: Wakamaru by Mitsubishi.</figcaption></figure>

<figure><img src="image_17.png" /><figcaption>Fig.11: Carebot by Geckosystems.</figcaption></figure>
the saving of domestic labour), this is, in many cases, another example
of the robot in search of a problem. The significance of this problem and
the allure of the solution have resulted in many well-financed research
projects, and much media speculation, but in reality are we genuinely
ready to give up care of our elderly relatives to mechanical devices?

Care robots currently fall into two categories. First is a role
similar to the servant or butler, performing day-to-day domestic
chores in the home combined with elements of care-giving such as
administering medicines and monitoring health. These robots mostly
follow the humanoid route and will be explored in more detail in the
following section on form.

The second, more contentious role is the robot as companion
for lonely elderly individuals. This function for robots effectively
combines historical notions of artificial life with contemporary research
highlighting the emotional benefits of pet ownership (Gunter, 1999).
However, there still exists a huge divide between real animals and
robotic pets: returning to the niche concept, many roboticists simply
attempt to replicate or mimic established occupants of the pet niche
such as domestic dogs and cats. In terms of function, the justification
for robots to replace animals is a paradox: it is claimed that elderly
people may struggle with the demands of caring for real pets such as
feeding, walking and so on, but it is through this nurture, responsibility
and unpredictability that the emotional bond is made. As Sparrow and
Sparrow's essay concludes, "Entities that are entirely at our disposal
and under our control are *things* rather than potential friends." (2006,
p.149). A functional niche means specialisation and a sophisticated and
complex interaction with the given habitat. Success for organisms such
as cats and dogs did not come quickly or easily, but through countless
generations of adaptation, each bringing the wild animal closer to
harmony with the habitat of humans. It is unlikely that this success
could be replicated within a few generations of development.

For roboticists to find a genuine niche in the home, it would be
helpful to base the function on what the underlying technology excels
at, not to simply replicate existing objects, animals and roles.

Form adaptation: *Form follows fiction*

In his analysis on the evolution of domestic life, Witold Rybczynski points out that the various inventions that contributed to human comfort at the end of the 19th century did not have a profound impact on the appearance of the home: "the changes that did occur were due to fashion and popular taste." (1986, p.173). He observes that during this time of great engineers, there was no obligation to apply an engineering aesthetic - rather the interiors of steamships, trains and tramways always took comfortingly familiar forms (Ibid, p.174). This observation sits neatly with the notion of adaptation; that these new technologies, whilst alien in concept, were made familiar and acceptable by designing their appearance to fit in with the existing landscape: form follows normality.

Those currently giving shape to robots, though, seem to
be more influenced by their fictional forms than the contemporary
domestic habitat: form follows fiction. In their defence, roboticists
argue that as the domestic environment is built exclusively with the
form of humans in mind (for example, staircases, door handles, tools
etc.) then it follows that any robot intended to operate in this space
should adopt the same form (Behnke, 2008). Another justification
put forward is that it would be more natural for humans to interact
with humanoid than abstract forms (Brookes, 1996; Dennett, 2003).
<figure><img src="image_18.png" /><figcaption>Fig.12: Nao by Aldebaran Robotics displays classic humanoid form.</figcaption></figure>

<figure><img src="image_19.png" /><figcaption>Fig.13: Paro developed by AIST (Japan's National Institute of Advanced Industrial Science and Technology) described as a therapeutic robot and utilising paedomorphic form.</figcaption></figure>
<figure><img src="image_20.png" /><figcaption>Figs.14 & 15: Mertz Active Vision Robotic Head by MIT. Developed for exploring human-robot interaction. A cute, childlike facade covers the mechanical interior.</figcaption></figure>

<figure><img src="image_21.png" /></figure>
Whilst there is an undoubtedly logical to both these arguments, they are undermined when the fundamental question of function is introduced: why is the humanoid robot in the home? It has an assumed place in our domestic futures as a result of countless and persistent promises such as those described in the section 'manifested dreams' and in the genre of science fiction.

Companion and care robots mostly follow zoomorphic or paedomorphic forms resembling cute animals such as puppies, kittens and seal pups. Roboticists argue that in order for robots to counter the frightening reputation built up by years of negative portrayals in science fiction, they should be given an unintimidating appearance. As with humanoid robots, the justification initially makes sense. However, many roboticists over compensate for what is a simple problem of overcoming negative first impressions.

The robot's powerful fictional heritage continues to influence the design of its form. As a fiction, the real-world issues of taste, context and domesticity can be ignored - allowing form-givers a freedom to either exaggerate the mechanical aspect by exposing metal, gears and cables, to cover workings with sleek, shiny, stylised futuristic plastic and chrome, or to dress them in bright colours with childlike features.

By applying a normative product design methodology and specifically adapting the robot to the domestic landscape, it is possible to imagine an entirely different form for robots, in harmony with the contemporary home and the tastes of the people who live there. This approach is explored in the project Carnivorous Domestic Entertainment Robots (see p.184).
Interactive adaptation: *Human people/robot interaction*<fnref n="28" />

How we engage and communicate with artificial entities is another major focal point for the robotic research community, in a field described as ‘social robotics’.<fnref n="29" /> The motivation behind this research often begins with the assumption that robots will soon become a ubiquitous part of modern society (Gates, 2007), and concludes that robots therefore “must be easy for the average citizen to use and interact with” (Breazeal, 1999). In her paper on the subject, Breazeal describes the importance of designing effective human-robot interfaces so that “untrained users can make safe and efficient use of the robot”. (Ibid). Aside from a brief nod to humanoid robots for care applications, the paper at no point suggests what this *use* of the robot might be - rather it focuses on a very generic notion of interaction breaking down the interface problem into four design issues. The first is how people perceive SIARs (Socially Intelligent Autonomous Robots) and how these perceptions influence interaction. Secondly, what are the most natural channels of interaction with the robot? Thirdly, how does the interaction impact on people emotionally? Finally, what are the social constraints that shape the nature and quality of the interaction? Only the final point begins to suggest that there is some complexity and variety involved in potential interactions with robots. This approach is another example of stereotypical and mythical notions of robots influencing

<footnote n="28">28. Concerning companion robots, the function to a large degree is *interaction*; there is therefore some overlap here with the previous section.</footnote>

<footnote n="29">29. ‘Social robots’ is the robot community terminology for research into human/robot interaction. This research can manifest itself in care robots, humanoid robots and companion robots.</footnote>
research, and it suffers accordingly by presenting a generic idea of
human/robot interaction.

Many social robots operate in highly artificial conditions or
circumstances, focusing on choreographed demonstrations in open
houses rather than the complex reality of domestic interaction. This
model can lead to successful papers, conference presentations and live
performances, but these forms of research output are not necessarily
relevant or meaningful in everyday life. On a trip to MIT's AI lab,
sociologist Lucy Suchman described her meeting with their social robot
Kismet as follows:

"While Kismet was operational, in contrast to the interlocutors pictured in the website videos none of our party of STS conference delegates was successful in eliciting coherent or intelligible behaviours from it. Framed as an autonomously affective entity Kismet, like Cog, must be said to have failed in its encounters with my colleagues and me. But as in the case of Cog, there are more interesting and suggestive lessons to be learned from the difference between Kismet's demonstrated competencies and the Kismet that we encountered. Those lessons require that we re-frame Kismet, like Cog, from an unreliable autonomous robot, to a collaborative achievement made possible through very particular, re-iteratively developed and refined performances. The contrast between my own encounter with Kismet and that recorded on the demonstration videos makes clear the ways in which Kismet's affect is an effect not simply of the device itself, but of Breazeal's trained reading of Kismet's actions and her extended history of labours with the machine. In the absence of Breazeal, correspondingly,
Kismet's apparent randomness attests to the robot's reliance
on the performative capabilities of its very particular 'human
caregiver'.” (Suchman, 2004, p.7).

Whilst this scientific research method and the consequent
generation of knowledge can offer truly helpful clues on how we might
improve our interactions with machines, the staged nature of the
laboratory open house conflicts with the nature of the word social. To
fully develop a meaningful interaction between humans and robots it
is imperative to define the context for this interaction, otherwise the
event is simply a showcase. Consider how differently we interact with
other humans depending on circumstances and roles: with a policeman,
a potential partner, a nurse... So, whilst it is certainly of value to explore
specific human-computer interaction, for that interaction to be truly
meaningful it is necessary to also ask the contextual questions: what
does that robot do? Why is it here? Why am I interacting with it? Without
tangible answers to these questions robots cannot fit comfortably into
our everyday lives.

In his influential book *The Ecological Approach to Visual
Perception*, James J Gibson stresses the value of moving out of the
laboratory with regard to the study of natural vision and into the
environment – the surroundings of those organisms that perceive and
behave (1986, p.7). He suggests that “it is not true that ‘the laboratory
can never be life like.’ The laboratory *must* be life like!” (Ibid, p.3). If
robots *are* to enter our homes at some future point, roboticists would do
well to heed Gibson’s advice - only then will the combined value of their
form and function and the way we interact with them be desirable to
potential consumers.
The robot paradox #1: *Sublimity and ephemerality*

By nature of definition (see p.38), robots have a special status
above that of normal products. The problem arises when this special
or *sublime* element is provided by novelty and curiosity. For as Edmund
Burke points out in *A Philosophical Enquiry into the Origin of our Ideas
of the Sublime and the Beautiful*, "curiosity is the most superficial of
all the affections; it changes its object perpetually." (Burke, 2008, p.29).
Robots have effectively become victims of their success as vehicles
used to represent the future, through the use of technological novelty
to provide spectacle. The following passage from Ray Kurzweil, one of
the world's more vocal advocates of artificial intelligence, describes this
relationship between technology and spectacle:

> "A word on magic ... I was [also] an avid magician. I enjoyed
> the delight of my audiences in experiencing apparently
> impossible transformations of reality. In my teen years,
> I replaced my parlour magic with technology projects. I
> discovered that unlike mere tricks, technology does not lose
> transcendent power when its secrets are revealed. I am often
> reminded of Arthur C Clarke's third law, that 'any sufficiently
> advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic'."
> 
> (Kurzweil, 2005, p.4)

Kurzweil's reference to Arthur C Clarke's famous quote
undermines his point, for Clarke does not make a generic reference to
technology but clearly states "sufficiently advanced" - from this we can
deduce that when the technology is no longer advanced it does become
distinguishable from magic. This *normalising* of technology has been
experienced by many people who bought Sony's robotic dog, AIBO - as
the BBC's technology journalist Jon Wurtzel reports after living with the
robot for a short time:

"What became increasingly clear is the power and importance of the emotional relationship with this robot dog. When I tried to develop a relationship with him, I felt let down. I stopped referring to him solely as a he, and started referring to him as the robot. This deflation felt even more acute because he had so successfully generated emotional cues and responses with me. He had seemingly promised me a canine relationship, and then failed to deliver. As art, AIBO is a tremendous success. He makes a great interactive sculpture, and is fun and impressive to watch. But, as a pet dog, AIBO fell down." (Wurtzel, 2001)

This problem arises when roboticists simply attempt to replicate the behaviour of pets; the robots ultimately fall victim to the limits of their own programming. The same traits that make them perfectly adapted to production lines render them ephemeral in emotive roles. Automation reduces randomness, in turn increasing predictability. When first viewing the manufactured spectacle we can marvel at the sublime and surprising new use of technology. The profundity of this spectacle will define its potential for emotional sustainability, but ultimately, and inevitably, repetition leads to familiarity, which in turn leads to apathy; the robot ceases to be a robot and is demoted to mere product.

This observation is most crucial for those robots that rely on
spectacle and mystique for success - particularly companion robots
and entertainment robots. Through clever interventions, new methods of
interaction or developments in computer technology, robots may one day
find domestic success in this guise, but in their current forms they will
be little more than a gadget, the most fleeting of all domestic objects.
The robot paradox #1 suggests that real-life robots are victims of the
profound utopian promises made by their fictional counterparts. For
almost a century these have sold a dream that is going to be impossible
to realise.

The robot and the cinema: *The subversion of the robot*

One key difference between natural systems and domestic
life is the role of a reputation in influencing the acceptability of a
subject. Returning to the ecosystem diagram (fig.1), negative press
or portrayals at the cultural level (level 3) can impact on a technology
in profound ways, influencing policy makers and consumers alike.
This sub-section looks specifically at the role of cinema in delivering
dystopian imaginaries and how these have tainted the reputation of the
generic robot.

"As in the theatre, each physical type expresses to excess the part which has been assigned to the contestant. Thauvin, a fifty-year old with an obese and sagging body, whose type of asexual hideousness always inspires feminine nicknames, displays in his flesh the characters of baseness, for his part is to represent what, in the classical concept of the *salaud*, the 'bastard' (the key concept of any wrestling match), appears as organically repugnant.: (Barthes, 2009, p.5)
In *Mythologies*, Roland Barthes describes in exquisite detail the repulsive figure of Thauvin, the wrestler. As he describes, the extended use of signs in all-in wrestling acts to elicit a mixture of hatred and nausea in the audience. In the genre of science fiction, robots have been cast in a similar role since their very conception: if we accept the lineage of the robot (as suggested in the introduction) to have evolved from myth and legend, then in its fictional guise it has frequently and consistently played the role of villain:

> "Oh! No mortal could support the horror of that countenance.
> A mummy again endued with animation could not be so
> hideous as that wretch. I had gazed upon him when unfinished;
> he was ugly then; but when those muscles and joints were
> rendered capable of motion, it became a thing such as even
> Dante could not have conceived." (Shelley, 1992, p.59)

The raison d'être of all-in wrestling is straightforward: "the primary virtue of the spectacle, [which] is to abolish all motives and all consequences: what matters is not what it (the public) thinks but what it sees." (Barthes, 2009, p.3). Barthes suggests that this form of wrestling is purely spectacle, devoid of intellectual or philosophical undertones. In science fiction this is not necessarily the case, as Daniel Dinello points out in his study on the relationship between technology and science fiction: "the best science fiction extrapolates from known technology and projects a vision of the future against which we can evaluate present technology and its direction." (2005, p.5). In her book *Representations of the Post/Human*, Elaine L Graham acknowledges Mary Shelley's "evident knowledge and interest in the
emergent discipline of natural science”, concluding that she intended
Frankenstein to “explore the serious issues of natural philosophy in the
context of the scientific debates of the time” (2002, p.66). Shelley gives
the monster the gift of speech and with it the opportunity to win over
the heart of the reader, with passages describing in the first person,
distressing and moving depictions of its miserable existence.³⁰ This acts
to humanise the creature and in turn complicate the issue of its creation
and the science behind it. In a chapter entitled ‘Did Hollywood Make
the Monster’, Graham describes how Dr Frankenstein’s creation was
transformed in the popular Hollywood productions in the 20th century:
“the ‘monster’ devolved to become silent or at best, inarticulate, a
device which accentuates its brutishness ... the ambivalence of the
monstrosity dissipates, to be replaced by pure horror.” (Ibid, p.66).
Frankenstein shifted from a cautionary tale of gothic horror to a more
basic politicised exhortation, which, according to Andreas Rohrmoser
serves to “reinforce conservative values and reactionary views, a
tendency that has dominated Hollywood cinema from its beginnings to
the present” (n.d.). This perspective is more simply expressed by Dinello:
“not all science fiction is technophobic, and not all scientists serve
corporate and military interests.” (2005, p.7).

30.

In one particularly moving passage after the monster has
been secretly observing a normal happy family, he imagines
winning over firstly their favour and then their love,
likening his situation to La Fontaine's *L'Âne et le petit Chien
(The Ass and the Little Dog)*: when the ass sees the lap-dog's
master patting it as a reward for its friendly fawning, it tries
the same thing, but gets beaten for its pains. (From the
monster's own footnotes). This shows that the monster not
only is sensitive and craves love but also is highly literate
(See Shelley, chapters IV and V).
The message communicated by the majority of Hollywood films is that emergent technology, in the hands of hubristic scientists or ruthless corporations, is simply bad. In science fiction, this emergent technology needs a vessel, a tangible embodied form through which it can express its profundity and communicate its dark potential. Wiener's observation about the "living technique of the day" influencing the production and study of robots (see p.49) equally applies in fiction, and the robot villain has consistently been upgraded through utilisation of emerging technology at the time of production.

This fictitious use of the robot means that for nearly a century, powerful and memorable negative portrayals have been very effectively disseminated into the public domain, tainting perceptions, tarnishing its reputation and constructing a shared negative imaginary.

To describe the history of negative representations of the robot in science fiction is beyond the scope of this thesis.<fnref n="31" /> I have therefore chosen one recent series of films that detail a particularly unpleasant future, arising from developments in computer technology. 'The Terminator' (James Cameron, 1984) offers few redeeming factors for technological application, and technology is cast simply as the harbinger of Armageddon, or, as Dinello puts it, "Terminator comes off as emphatically anti-technological." (2005, p.129).

'The Terminator' describes a plausible explanation for how computer technology could be responsible for the coming apocalypse through developments in artificial intelligence. The device used by Cameron to represent AI was the robot (or cyborg, see fig.20) and is the

<footnote n="31">31. Daniel Dinello's *Technophobia* describes in great detail the "dramatic conflict between the techno-utopia promised by real-world scientists and the techno-dystopia predicted by science fiction". (See Dinello, 2005, p.2).</footnote>
<figure><img src="image_22.png" /><figcaption>Fig.16: 'Frankenstein' (James Whale, 1931).</figcaption></figure>

<figure><img src="image_23.png" /><figcaption>Fig.17: 'Metropolis' (Fritz Lang, 1927).</figcaption></figure>
<figure><img src="image_24.png" /><figcaption>Fig.18: 'Robocop' (Paul Verhoeven, 1987).</figcaption></figure>

<figure><img src="image_25.png" /><figcaption>Fig.19: 'iRobot' (Alex Proyas, 2004).</figcaption></figure>

<figure><img src="image_26.png" /><figcaption>Fig.20: T-800 in 'The Terminator' (James Cameron, 1984).</figcaption></figure>
dark lingering image that remains of this film. 'Terminator 2: Judgement
Day' transforms the role of the T-800 cyborg (Arnold Schwarzenegger)
into the underdog and defender of humanity. This role temporarily
restores the reputation of the cyborg character, but, whilst the T-800
ultimately prevails, the relentless dystopian progress of technology is
evident in both the spectacular computer effects used in the film and
the creative extrapolation of the possibilities of nanotechnology. The
mechanical technology behind the T-800 looks distinctly antiquated
alongside the highly superior T-1000, a liquid metal, indestructible
machine with unlimited transformational capabilities.

Whilst in the West, aside from a few exceptions, we have
consistently subverted the image of robots and constantly improved the
delivery of this presentation through advances in computer-generated
special effects,<fnref n="32" /> in Japan and other Asian nations the robot in science
fiction has been portrayed in a far more favourable light. One of the
most famous and popular fictional robots in Japan is Tesuwan Atom
(Astro Boy), who emerged from the comic genre of Manga in 1951. The
beginning of the story follows a similar route to Collodi's Pinocchio:
a grieving father builds an artificial boy to make up for his lost son,
but in this case the father is a rocket scientist and the artificial son is
enhanced with superhuman powers and intelligence. What is important
about Tesuwan Atom is his ability to fit comfortably (for a superhero
robot) into the fabric and institutions of normal daily life, such as
following Japanese traditions and going to school. "The message Astro
Boy seeks to get across is that robots and humans could live together

<footnote n="32">32. Stanley Kubrick penned the original script for 'AI' but was not convinced by the special effects of the time. Eventually computer graphics (CG) effects improved and Steven Spielberg ultimately made the film in 2001.</footnote>
and get on naturally. Over night he became a part of every Japanese
family.” (Ichbiah, 2005, p.86).

Powerful fictional representations of robots permeate from
the outer cultural levels of the robot ecosystem to influence all other
aspects - tainting the opinions and preconceptions of the potential
robot-buying public, influencing the roboticists and engineers
responsible for their creation,<fnref n="33" /> and inspiring corporations to invest
heavily in non-proven concepts. In his book on robots, Ichbiah claims
that anime permeate Japanese society to such an extent that their
traits are mirrored in commercial devices now on the market. This
explains the cuteness of Sony's Aibo and many of the other Asian
entertainment robots.

To conclude, in this case it is not the physical object that is
maladapted for the home but the perception of the object. The cinema,
and in particular science fiction, is extremely powerful in shaping
people's expectations or understanding of a specific technology. The
next section explores this specific conflict in more detail.

<footnote n="33">33. As described in the section on robot adaptation, the application of paedomorphic forms is a conscious attempt to overcome the fear factor of robots.</footnote>
The robot paradox #2: *Heimlich and unheimlich*<fnref n="34" />

*The home*: Bastion of comfort, security and the familiar. *The robot*: Alien, mysterious and threatening. For those whose agenda involves bringing robots into the home these opposing traits need to converge. In his book *A Small World: Smart Houses and the Dream of the Perfect Day*, Davin Heckman makes some insightful observations on the smart home.<fnref n="35" /> Of particular interest are the advertising narratives that have been used to sell the homes of the future - as he points out, new technology offers consumers access to the things that are lacking, effectively describing the traditional route for modernisation in the home. The paradox is that with 'smart' technology, improvements need to be both spectacular and comforting. "They must embody a compelling new way of doing ordinary things." (2008, p.9).

Looking at this through the lens of the ecologist to explore the notion of adaptation – “every species is the product of a long history of selection and is thus well adapted to the environment in which it lives.” (Mayr, 1966, p.60) – it is clear that natural organisms have lineages and therefore each individual organism is tried and tested in its habitat through countless generations of successful updates (mutations). Much the same can be said for products. Here the economist Robert

<footnote n="34">34. For housekeeping reasons I will focus on the unheimlich element of real (non-fiction) robots such as those proposed by corporations and research groups. The next point will provide a more detailed analysis of the non-homely element of robots in fiction.</footnote>

<footnote n="35">35. By utilising similar sensing and actuating technologies, the smart home is effectively an extension of the robot: a robotic house.</footnote>
Heilbroner describes how technological artefacts evolve:

"All inventions and innovations, by definition, represent an advance in the art beyond existing base lines. Yet, most advances, particularly in retrospect, appear essentially incremental, evolutionary. If nature makes no sudden leaps, neither it would appear does technology." (Heilbroner, 1967, cited in Kaplan, 2004, p.9)

Smart homes are technological environments, and as such solving the 'familiar yet spectacular' paradox should not present an insurmountable problem. For example, sensing technologies could be neatly embedded in various crevices or behind screens, and actuation could be subtle and built into existing devices and spaces; the domestic landscape effectively remains visually unchanged, it simply behaves differently. However, this route has delivered little success, perhaps due to the uncanny 'haunted house' effect of well-functioning automated environments.

The few robots that have successfully entered the home follow the forms of traditional products. For example, robot vacuum cleaners and lawn mowers simply resemble their non-robotic counterparts; they are effectively roboticised versions of familiar elements of the home. In stark contrast the embodied robots being proposed by corporate advertising narratives both today and in the past represent the introduction of a very foreign species of product into the home - this would be analagous to inviting a wolf in through the door.

This observation highlights a problematic dimension for robots: whilst research continues unabated, hypothetically advancing us towards the spectacular visions imagined many years ago, there exists
no domestic lineage for these robots to emerge from. If the convergence
of research into artificial intelligence and complex mechanical
engineering leads to readily available, cheap, operational, domestic
humanoid robots, would we feel comfortable about their entering our
homes, given the alien automated nature of their function? Overcoming
the uncanny nature of automated objects is a major factor that will
determine the success or failure of spectacular robots in domestic life.

Playing to strengths: *Implications of a robotic future*

This final section represents a slight departure, for here I
describe a likely route through which robots will enter everyday life and
why this does not necessarily lead to desirable robotic futures.

At first glance it may seem obvious that a ‘thing’ should play to
its strengths in order to improve its chances of survival, whether natural
or artificial. The strengths of robot-related technology are complex
sensing techniques, information storing and processing, and repetitive,
continuous and autonomous movement. There is cold, rational and
unquestioning computer logic that renders robotic technology perfectly
suited to production lines, militarised zones and other inhuman or
dangerous situations. These qualities undoubtedly conflict with the
requirements of the home, but this has not hindered the gradual creep
of automation into modern life. As long ago as 1958, the philosopher
Gilbert Simondon warned of the implications of automation, using
developments in the motorcar to illustrate his argument. Building on
Simondon’s thoughts, Jean Baudrillard has more recently reiterated the
dangers of this trend:
"... when it becomes automatic (on the other hand) its function is fulfilled, certainly, but it is also hermetically sealed. Automatism amounts to a closing-off, to a sort of functional self-sufficiency which exiles man to the irresponsibility of a mere spectator." (1996, p.118)

Returning to the car, Simondon criticised the starter motor for over-complicating the mechanical purity of the internal combustion engine, preferring the simplicity of the manual turning handle. By today's standards, this perspective seems ridiculous and is indicative of Simondon's purist technocentric approach.<fnref n="36" /> However, these early warnings, made when the automation of everyday life was in its infancy, become extremely poignant considering the advances in automation made in recent years. Paraphrasing Albert Borgmann, Bill McKibben raises a critical question: when is technological development enough?

"At a certain point, says the philosopher Albert Borgmann, technology mimics the great breakthroughs of the past, assuring us that it's an imposition to have to open the garage door, walk behind a lawn mower, or wait twenty minutes for a frozen dinner to be ready." Borgmann wrote that twenty years ago. Now the sales men insist that it's an imposition to have to press the button that opens the garage door when the smart id chip embedded in your bicep can do it for you." (2004, p.121)

<footnote n="36">36. This will be discussed further in chapter three, see p.96.</footnote>
Our cars now inform us that rain is falling by automatically turning on the windscreen wipers. They warn us if we're about to fall asleep and broadcast irritating beeps if the safety belt is not attached. 'Intelligent' systems are monitoring online purchases and behaviours, tailoring the browsing experience to what it thinks we'd like to view. The Sony Bravia WE5 television has an inbuilt movement detector that automatically turns off the picture if no presence is detected in the room. In a future proposal their television can differentiate between adults and children, automatically switching on parental controls if it senses a child is viewing. Robotic technology is beginning to pre-empt our needs and actions. The designers of smart homes have been experimenting with methods for reading human emotions, adjusting the lighting or music to match the mood of the occupant:

> "Eventually, says Mary Walker, of IBM's home automation division, 'smart ID' chips will be implanted inside you. Then 'your body temperature might give your stereo system cues as to your mood and it would select appropriate music'; the chip could also 'compute how much of your body weight is fat, and offer suggestions for diet recipes to the refrigerator'."
> 
> (McKibben, ibid, p.121)

As the capabilities of sensing technology become more sophisticated, the ability of machines to gather more sensitive or emotive information relating to the human condition becomes a genuine possibility; this, combined with the computer's ability to store and analyse data, could result in a future saturated by automation. When robotic technology is employed to play to its strengths, the potential consequence is that we in turn become robotic – less emotional,
more rational, programmed and predictable; technology effectively
replaces human thought. This theme is explored from a speculative
design perspective in the project Happylife described in chapter five.
Technologies related to robotic research also excel at improving.
Computer technology, for example, has its own dedicated law stating
that the number of transistors on a chip will double every two years; this
has proved to be approximately correct since Gordon Moore first made
the observation in 1965. The exponential nature of this growth has led
to scientists such as Ray Kurzweil and Hans Moravec proposing that
computational power will exceed that of the human brain somewhere
around the year 2020, and is a major argument in favour of the
realisation of artificial intelligence defined by the cybernetics pioneers
of the last century.

Reflecting on this chapter from a personal perspective, it
is clear that I simply do not want to share my home with any of the
robots I discovered in the course of this survey. This is quite a strong
statement given the amount of positive press robots continue to receive
and the ongoing predictions suggesting that we are on the threshold
of a world of robot co-habitation. The problem mostly stems from the
observations laid out in chapter one: that the fictional and mythical
idea of robots continues to influence their development and design and,
whilst the *ideas* are engaging and alluring, realisation leads to objects
and functions that are essentially maladapted for the domestic habitat.
If robots are to enter into our homes, we must begin by dismantling the
stereotypical and romantic concepts that pervade. Robot technology
can then be reconsidered with the domestic habitat in mind. We must,
however, proceed with caution... as the final point highlights, when
robotic technology *is* applied in ways that follow logical trajectories, the
outcomes do not necessarily enhance domestic life.
<figure><img src="image_27.png" /></figure>
7.
The domestic
ecology: How
technology does
become a product

In the previous chapter I explored various contemporary and
historical robot ecologies; the contexts or habitats we could call *their*
home. This chapter explores the notion of *our* home.³⁷ “Few English
words are filled with the emotional meaning of the word ‘home.’ It
brings to mind one’s childhood, the roots of one’s being, the security
of a private enclave where one can be free and in control of one’s life.”
(Csikszentmihalyi, 1981, p.121). More specifically, I will explore some of
the ways through which products and other artefacts have successfully

37.

It is unnecessary here to delve too deeply into the
concept of the home. For more reading, see ethnographic
explorations into people and their relationship with the
home such as Daniel Miller's *The Comfort of Things*; Mihaly
Csikszentmihalyi and Eugene Rochberg-Halton's *The
Meaning of Things* – *Domestic Symbols and the Self*; and
Baudrillard's *The System of Objects*.
entered this complex and special place. If robots are to succeed in
securing a place in our homes then they will effectively have to shift
ecosystem: to make a transition from the habitat in which they currently
reside (laboratory/film/technology fair) to the domestic.

One way of describing this journey or *migration* between
systems is domestication: “Selection carried out by man for the purpose
of adapting plants and animals to his needs.” (Odum, 1971, p.242) And,
fundamentally, these needs are extremely diverse. In his study on the
domestication of natural organisms, Michael Pollan details the complex
histories of four plants and the desires they elicit: *beauty*, in the form of
the tulip, which for a brief perverse moment in 17th-century Amsterdam
became more precious than gold (2002, p.xxiii); *control*, explored through
the manipulation of the humble potato and its evolving relationship
with human culture and technological development; marijuana and the
human desire to become *intoxicated*; and *sweetness*, described through
the spread of old world plants such as the apple across the American
frontiers at the beginning of the 19th century. Humans will go to great
lengths to shape the world in ways that satisfy their needs and wants.

For the purposes of this chapter, my subject for analysis will
be the dog, not so much for the long journey from its natural habitat
(although I will touch on this) but rather for the complex and transient
organism it has become in adapting to human life. The dog, perhaps
more than any other recipient of domestication, represents the complex
and sometimes whimsical desires of humans: dog breeds ebb and flow
with social trends, Hollywood films and celebrity ownership; they are
the second largest recipient of cosmetic enhancement surgery after
humans, and are at the core of a multi-billion-dollar global industry.

Alongside the dog I will examine the domestication of the
computer. In a 2007 article for *Scientific American*, Bill Gates predicted
that soon there will be a robot in every home. In arguing his case he
made a comparison between the state of the computer industry in
the mid 1970s and the robotics industry of today, concluding that the
enormous successes experienced by computer scientists in bringing
PCs into the home will soon by repeated by those developing robots.<fnref n="38" />

Like the dog, the computer had a long migration; from its
first conception, through various utilitarian stages, before finally
evolving into the ubiquitous technology it is today, existing in numerous
and diverse domestic products. The key aim of this chapter is to
understand how candidates for domestication are initially identified,
what motivates, shapes and informs the domestication process,
how the adaptations take place and what constitutes a successfully
domesticated product/organism.<fnref n="39" />

<footnote n="38">38. Coming from one of the most successful individuals in the world of technology, the analogy is convincing, but if we probe a little deeper into the article, flaws appear. The suggested roles for future robots are the same as those described in chapter three - Gates suggests that current limitations are simply an engineering problem that is on the verge of being solved. A more thorough analysis into the last 30 years of the computer tells a slightly different story; the route to full domestication was found simply through engineering.</footnote>

<footnote n="39">39. It is important to note that domestication here refers to the ability of the organism to co-exist with humans in their homes - for example cats and dogs, not sheep or dairy cattle.</footnote>
Evolution and domestication: *A brief comparison*

In a study of ecological systems, especially when a temporal
element is introduced, it is impossible to avoid the concept of
evolution - how an organism genetically changes over time through
random mutations to meet the ever-changing requirements for its
survival. Comparisons between natural and technological evolution
have been made as far back as the 19th century, when Charles Darwin
first published his theory of evolution in 1859. This revolutionary work
inspired philosophers, writers and anthropologists such as Marx
and Engels, Samuel Butler and Augustus Pitt-Rivers to suggest that
technological artefacts evolve in a manner similar to natural organisms.
As noted in chapter one, the main difference between biological and
technological evolution is the role humans play in shaping change - as
Basalla points out when describing the difference between the theories
of Darwin and Marx:

"In Darwin's theory biological evolution was self-generating; in the Marxian scheme the evolution of technology is not self-generating but is a process directed by wilful, conscious, active people and moulded by historical forces." (Basalla, 1988, p.207)

This description bears a resemblance to 'artificial selection',
the term Darwin himself used in 'Variation under domestication', the
opening chapter of *On the Origin of Species*:

"One of the most remarkable features in our domesticated
races is that we see in them adaptation, not indeed to the
animal's or plant's own good, but to man's use or fancy."
(2009, p.18).
For these reasons I chose to adopt the more specific process of domestication rather than evolution for the analogy with technological development. This shift is subtle, but, as we shall see, the end stages of the domestication process reveal the true complexities of *man's fancy* manifested in or expressed through the final artefact. Unlike theories on the evolution of technology,<fnref n="40" /> it places the same level of importance on the impact of popular cultural forces such as fashion trends as it does technological development;<fnref n="41" /> this is imperative if we are to understand the factors influencing product success and failure, and, more importantly, to later apply these observations in the speculative design process.

Consistent, regardless of terminology, is the ancestral line or *lineage* of the organism or artefact. The tracing of the lineage represents a particular challenge to the thinkers in the field of technological evolution. Should we wish to trace a dog's ancestry back through pre-history, all of the necessary information would be held in its DNA - a straightforward linear path revealing the "recurrent and inherited

<footnote n="40">40. Simondon proposes two major causes of technical evolution: economic and purely technical. The former, he suggests, are "not pure; they involve a diffuse network of motivations and preferences which qualify and even reverse them (e.g. the taste for luxury, the desire for novelty which is so evident amongst consumers, and commercial propaganda)". 'Pure' or not these factors are at the core of contemporary product development and must be considered.</footnote>

<footnote n="41">41. Here we run the risk of becoming embedded in complex debates relating to technological determinism and the relationship between technological development and society. Whilst it is beyond the scope of this thesis to address this question in depth, the fact that the speculative design approach employs societal and cultural observations in its hypothetical 'progression' of technology with the aim of influencing development denies the deterministic approach.</footnote>
characteristics that distinguish it from other species” (Vaccari and
Barnet, 2009, p.7), or indeed breeds. With technology, there is no
such DNA record. Various attempts at achieving an understanding of
technological evolution have been put forward, most notably Gilbert
Simondon's seminal essay 'On the Mode of Existence of Technical
Objects' (1958), and Bernard Stiegler's 'Technics and Time' (1998).
Whilst many of the observations and theories made in these studies
are directly relevant to this essay, their approach tends towards the
technocentric. As Vincent Bontems describes in his essay on the work of
Simondon, "the unity of a technical lineage must not be determined by
the function and utilisation of technical objects because such a criterion
would regroup objects with very different structures and functioning."
(Bontems, 2009, p.3). The approach, defined by Simondon as "Genetic
Mechanology", aims to "establish a relationship between objects
according to their internal functioning as opposed to their utilisation".
(Ibid).<fnref n="42" /> For the purposes of this thesis a more appropriate method of
classification has been proposed by George Basalla in his book *The
Evolution of Technology*. Here he emphasises the value of the artefact:

> "A theory of evolution cannot exist without demonstrated connections between the basic units that constitute its universe of discourse. In technology those units are artefacts ... it becomes apparent that every novel artefact has an antecedent.

<footnote n="42">42. In defining the problem, Simondon points out that we can get the "same result from very different functionings and structures: steam-engines, petrol-engines, turbines and engines powered by springs" (Simondon, p.18). Basically, the promiscuous nature of technological application means that it is difficult to define technical objects with reference to specific functionality.</footnote>
> This claim holds true for the simplest stone implement and for machines as complex as cotton gins and steam engines.”
> (1988, p.208)

As a designer, the artefact approach is appealing, because from this perspective technology is simply a means to an end. How the technology operates is less relevant than what the object does and how we benefit from this function. Here I propose taking this notion one stage further, to focus on the actual human activity being augmented by the technological product. The artefact method of classification has been complicated in recent times by the convergence of many functions into one product. This has led to a blurring of product boundaries - for example, telephones are now also cameras, televisions and computers; computers are shops, libraries and social networks. This is not problematic for the historian, as the convergence points can be easily identified with the benefit of hindsight, but for the designer speculating on how products might evolve in the future, the projected lineage of an artefact offers few clues relating to potential convergences. The advantages of this method of understanding product lineage will become apparent at the end of this chapter, specifically when applied to recent developments in computer technology.

## Domestication theory

In ‘media and communication studies’ and the ‘studies of sociology of technology’, the concept of domesticating technology is an established field with a well-defined idea of what this means:
<figure><img src="image_28.png" /><figcaption>Fig.21: Domestication of products and technology</figcaption></figure>
"In our understanding, domestication is, first of all, an
analytical tool, which helps to illuminate the process where
the user makes the technology 'his/her own'; a process through
which both the technology and its user are changed. This
process takes place through various phases or dimensions and
the artefact is fitted into the routines and the practices of the
everyday life of its user." (Berker et al, 2006, p.126)

Or a more pragmatic description:

"Domestication, in the traditional sense, refers to the taming of a wild animal. At a metaphorical level we can observe a domestication process when users, in a variety of environments, are confronted with new technologies. These 'strange' and 'wild' technologies have to be 'house-trained'; they have to be integrated into the structures, daily routines and values of users and their environments." (Ibid, p.2)

Through the use of the term 'house-trained', Berker's analogy
specifically infers the time frame between the introduction of a puppy
into the home and its complete integration with the rules, systems
and behaviours laid down by its new owner. This definition completely
ignores the journey made by that dog's ancestors over the best part of
15,000 years, the journey that *allowed* for the dog to be an appropriate
candidate for human co-habitation.

There is a simple solution to this anomaly. By making a
distinction between 'technology' and 'product', it becomes possible to
see domestication as a dichotomy. Domestication studies, as described
above, relates to the domestication of the 'product', and what is being
examined in this thesis relates to the domestication of ‘technology’ -
effectively the creation of a consumable product from technological
potential.<fnref n="43" />

Roger Silverstone, one of the original contributors to theories
of domestication, breaks ‘product’ domestication down into four stages:

Appropriation: the point at which the object is sold - from
commodity to ownership.

Objectification: the act of the object becoming situated in the
aesthetic environment.

Incorporation: the functional aspect of the object being
incorporated into the routines of daily life.

Conversion: how the existence of the object reflects back in the
outside world.

These four stages are helpful as they define the basic criteria
for the consumable product to be a success - effectively the qualities it
needs to exhibit at the end of the 'domestication of technology' stage.
If these combined four stages are viewed as an *end goal* for technology,
the domestication of technology can be understood as the journey
between the habitat of (a) the entirely wild organism or emergent
technology and (b) the appropriation stage, with domestication of the
product taking place between (b) appropriation and (c) conversion:

The following section will examine this process in detail,
pointing out observations that will be used in later chapters about
speculative design.

<footnote n="43">43. Here I specifically refer to a 'domestic product'. Of course a technology may exist as a product in the business or military domain before becoming available on the domestic market.</footnote>
Domestication of technology

The genesis: *Hints of usefulness or observed potential*

Here I return to the beginning of the previous chapter to touch
again on technological dreams and the character of the individuals
behind the genesis of a technology.

By comparing the wild dog, prior to domestication, to an
emerging technology, a few basic similarities can be observed. First,
both exhibit a perceptible potential for useful human application.
Second, this potential is perceived and consequently shaped and
promoted by only certain members of the population. Third, the subject
is complex and little understood - interactions are specialised and
forms are unconsidered.

Over an approximate 12,000-15,000-year period, the wild
dog successfully made a transition from its natural wild habitat to the
domestic habitat. In the previous discussion on functional adaptation
(see page 62), I introduced the ecological concept of the niche. Here the
pioneer of ecosystem ecology, Eugene Odum, offers another definition:

> "The ecological niche of an organism depends not only on where it lives but also on what it does. By analogy, it may be said that the habitat is the organism's 'address', and the niche is its 'profession', biologically speaking." (1971, p.234)

The term 'profession' as used by Odum is particularly helpful
because, non-biologically speaking, it neatly lends itself towards
the suggestion of a role with some usefulness (to humans). There is
supposition amongst natural historians as to exactly how the initial
steps of dog domestication took place, but as Frederick E Zeuner
describes in his theory on animal domestication, the general consensus
is that the wild dog entered into human life with the *profession* of man's
first 'refuse collector':

"The wild dog's habit of clearing away food debris, particularly well developed in the Jackal, which readily eats even vegetable matter is well known ... The advantage which accrued to early man from the removal of food debris, which otherwise would have accumulated in or near the camps and villages, must have been noticed at an early period." (1963, p.83)

It is worth noting that early modern humans had no formalised
relationship with animals (e.g. pets, livestock, zoos), and therefore
the notion of co-habitation would have been a revolutionary concept.
I would like to return to Zeuner's point that the "benefits must have
been noticed", to investigate the character behind those identifying
the potential in their observations and conceptualising how this might
be manipulated to their benefit. The following extracts are from Abbot
P Usher's book on mechanical inventions, where he describes the
character of the inventor:

"Discovery consists in the perception of relations existing in
nature that were not previously recognized. Strictly speaking,
the arrangements exist independently of our minds though
obscured in many ways by the complexity of the phenomena.
The perception of such relations turns largely upon
eliminations and simplifications of the items of experience that
may distract attention from the orderly patterns that are finally
recognized.” (1929, p.10)

"The inventor, like the artist, lives on the borderland between the normal and the abnormal, and like artists and prophets finds in his daydreams a source of gratification and encouragement at the least, and at times a fruitful source of genuine accomplishment. Intuitive knowledge and the works of creative imagination are more or less directly associated with delvings into levels beyond the limits of our normally conscious life." (Ibid, p.29)

Usher's theory on technological development describes the essentially cumulative character of mechanical achievement (p.269). The domestication of dogs could also have been seen to follow a similar pattern of progress, but any cumulative lineage *must* have a genesis - and these initial steps made by early modern humans in befriending wild dogs represent this genesis for all recipients of domestication: from dogs and cats; sheep and cattle; potatoes and apples to marijuana and tulips.<fnref n="44" />

Concerning the computer, the identification of a specific
genesis is a greater challenge due to the more complex nature of the
artefact and what might represent its primary incarnation. However,
culturally it is customary to assign major inventions or significant

<footnote n="44">44. The last four items relate specifically to the case studies described in Michael Pollan's *Botany of Desire*. It tells the story of each domesticated species and how they have thrived through satisfying humankind's most basic desires.</footnote>
advances to a particular individual.<fnref n="45" /> The computer is no exception, and whilst others had developed similar concepts,<fnref n="46" /> Charles Babbage is commonly referenced as the founding father of the modern computer (Eames, 1973; Pugh, 1995). In line with Usher's 'daydreamer', Babbage here describes how the concept for his Difference Engine came about:

> "The earliest idea that I can trace in my own mind of calculating arithmetical tables by machinery arose in this manner: One evening I was sitting in the rooms of the Analytical Society, at Cambridge, my head leaning forward on the table in a kind of dreamy mood, with a table of logarithms lying open before me. Another member, coming into the room, and seeing me half asleep, called out, 'Well, Babbage, what are you dreaming about?' to which I replied: 'I am thinking that all these tables' (pointing to the logarithms) 'might be calculated by machinery'." (Babbage, quoted in essay by Cohen, *New Scientist*, 9 October 1958)

Charles Babbage's Analytic Engine was conceived to mechanise calculation around 1837. Neither the Analytic Engine nor his earlier

<footnote n="45">45. For example: Thomas Edison: electricity; James Watt: steam engine; K Eric Drexler: nanotechnology; Craig Venter: genomics. Here it is worth noting that this chapter is written with the singular aim of informing the speculative design practice, not arguing either for or against the validity of assigning a specific name to a particular invention.</footnote>

<footnote n="46">46. Significant predecessors include: John Napier, invents logarithms (1614); Wilhelm Schickard builds the first mechanical calculator (1623); Blaise Pascal builds a mechanical calculator (1642); Joseph-Marie Jacquard invents an automatic loom controlled by punch cards (1805).</footnote>
Difference Engine were realised in his lifetime, but these proposals did
come close to describing the workings of the modern computer. In *The
Evolution of Technology*, Basalla makes the observation that “initially
inventions are likely to be very crude models embodying new ideas in
need of further refinement”. (p.141). Also relevant is his suggestion that
“[each] invention offers a spectrum of opportunities ... The first uses are
not always the ones for which the invention will eventually become best
known” (p.141). These ideas apply to both the dog and the computer: the
contemporary versions are far removed from their earliest ancestors.
In both cases, though, the essences of modern function were present in
their original incarnations.

These observations become relevant when the speculative
designer contemplates the proposals or predictions made by modern
inventors such as K Eric Drexler (nanotechnology) or Ray Kurzweil
(Al), describing future possibilities for the emerging technology under
development: the essences are of more value than the specific promise.
The designer must look beyond the proposed applications to the raw
functional potential, using this as a basis for design directions and
ideas.

Utilitarian stages: *Means and ends*

Once a concept has exhibited its potential to the larger
community, development spreads to other areas, producing new
applications or areas of research. With the dog, its general acceptance
led to selective breeding and training, which made dogs more responsive
and pliable to the needs and desires of their human hosts - allowing for
the emergence of more complex functions and contrived forms. Specific
breeds emerged, each somehow designed for a specific purpose.<fnref n="47" />

When humans are involved in the practice of shaping artificial
rather than organic matter, the time constraints of breeding, gestation
and maturing are removed. Progress happens with greater efficiency,
with real-life events becoming the catalysts for the direction and speed
of technological development. After Babbage presented his concepts
for the computer, almost a century passed with little development,
but during this time the world was being reorganised. In the US, mass
immigration and a growing interest in social investigation and the
statistical method resulted in the Census Bureau collecting more data
than it could tabulate. In order to develop a more efficient census-taking
system, the agency held a competition in 1888. Herman Hollerith won
the contest with his electronic tabulating machine; modified versions
of his technology would continue to be used at the Census Bureau until
replaced by computers in the 1950s.<fnref n="48" /> At the same time companies were
growing in size and a research culture, so prevalent today in shaping the
fortunes of a specific technology, was emerging as a genuine progressive
force: these combined circumstances resulted in a revitalised interest in
computing and statistical analysis.

Like Zeuner's basic categorisation of early dogs, *A Computer*

<footnote n="47">47. In A History of Domesticated Animals FE Zeuner lists the four major types of dog in early Europe: C.f. inostranzewi has been regarded as a wolf-like polar or Eskimo dog, and it has ever been suggested that this breed was used to draw sledges; C.f. matris-optimae is believed to have been a primitive sheepdog; C.f. intermedius appears to be an ancestor of various breeds of hounds; C.f. palustris was a small house dog from which the later Pomeranians, terriers and so forth would be derived (1963, p.93).</footnote>

<footnote n="48">48. From the US Census Bureau: http://www.census.gov/
history/www/innovations/technology/the_hollerith_
tabulator.html</footnote>
Turing machines remained in that imaginary state for over a decade, until the pressures of cryptological research during World War II gave rise to the components necessary to give the machine a physical body.” (De Landa, 2003, p.129)

Like Babbage, Turing's concepts started in his imagination, but in contrast, his ideas were transformed into the operational pre-computer 'Colossus' that famously deciphered the German enigma code during the war. De Landa goes on to describe how the wartime machines were not genuine 'Turing' machines;<fnref n="50" /> these machines would appear in the post-war period and represent the genuine descendants of the machines we call computers today.

Post World War Two, the function of computer technology transferred almost seamlessly into the Cold War - and with it an increasingly developed relationship between the scientific community and the military: "never before had science been applied at so grand a scale to such a variety of warfare problems" (De Landa, ibid, p.5). The nature of this relationship resulted in the computer remaining a steadfast tool for experts in the academic, business and military domains. Howard Rheingold describes below the industry's reaction to Doug Engelbart's suggestion in 1951 to use computers for teaching and interaction:

<footnote n="50">50. "The personal computer is defined as a 'universal machine', a machine that can simulate the workings of any other machine... it can reproduce the behaviour of any other machine that works on 'symbols', or physical inscriptions of some sort: typewriters, calculators, piannolas." (De Landa, 2003, p.130).</footnote>
<figure><img src="image_29.png" /><figcaption>Fig.22: Neiman-Marcus catalogue showing Honeywell Kitchen Computer (1969).</figcaption></figure>
"The interactive stuff was so wild that the people who knew about computers didn't want to hear about it. Back then, you didn't interact with a computer, even if you were a programmer. You gave it your question, in the form of a box of punched cards, and if you had worked very hard at stating the question correctly, you got your answer. Computers weren't meant for direct interaction. And this idea of using them to help people learn was downright blasphemy." (Rheingold, 2000, pp.178-79)

Political, cultural and social events drastically influenced and accelerated computer development between the late 19th century and the Cold War years. In *The Computer Perspective*, written in 1973, Charles and Ray Eames conclude by celebrating the spectacular growth of the computer – in numbers, in capability, in application (p.161). However, they make no reference or suggestion, at any stage, to computers coming into the home. It would take a more conscious effort to transform the potential developed in the contexts of business and military into a product suitable for domestic use.

Directed activity: *A conscious shift towards domesticity*

At some stage in a successful domestication, the candidate takes a shift away from utilitarian roles towards a more complex emotional or status-based value. During the late Middle Ages, hunting became a recreational activity for the upper-classes, and this change from survival activity to a form of entertainment led to a new significance for the dog, elevating them above the status of other animals. Sophia Menache, in her essay on dogs in the pre-modern period, provides a detailed analysis of the changing relationship between humans and dogs:
"The hunting treatises of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries provide a vivid reflection of changing attitudes towards dogs. They hint at a meeting point where dogs were divorced from the animal kingdom to be allowed a respectable entry into the apex of human society, among the medieval nobility."
(Menache, n.d., cited in Podberscek et al, 2000, p.56)

This change of circumstance was perhaps the most significant step dogs took towards achieving their potential as a domestic species. During this period only the nobility were allowed to keep hunting dogs, but the eventual breakdown of feudalism, combined with the industrialisation of farming and manufacture, led to dogs being available to all members of society for reasons beyond their traditional utilitarian value.

Like the dog, the computer spent a large period of its development in utilitarian roles. Even as late as the 1960s it was still seen as a tool for industry. It would take a concerted effort to change this perception and encourage people to bring one into their home. In 1969 a computer product, the Honeywell Kitchen Computer, costing $10,600, finally became available to the public. According to an article by Dag Spicer,<fnref n="51" /> not a single one was ever sold. However, as Davin Heckman notes in his book on the smart home, the Kitchen Computer was revolutionary in creating a shift in perception. As the large militarised mainframes of the 1950s gave way to smaller, more powerful

<footnote n="51">51. The computer was basically a technical cookbook offering suggestions as to what dishes could be cooked with the ingredients at hand. Similar proposals continue to this day, mostly through smart fridges such as the Electrolux Screenfridge. See article: http://drdobbs.com/184404040.</footnote>
and better machines, “the computer was quickly inserting itself into the
everyday, not as an abstract and futuristic concept, but as a real and
very personal fact of life.” (2008, p.55)

However, whilst the computer was succeeding in making
a perceptual shift, the physical object would still not make a true
impression on everyday life until the 1990s. Even as late as 1986, some
observers were commenting on the demise of the computer industry:

> "By the mid-1980s the home computer boom appeared to be nothing more than a short-lived, and for some computer manufacturers, expensive fad. Consumers who were expected to use these machines to maintain their financial records, educate their children, and plan for the family's future ended up playing electronic games on them, an activity that soon lost its novelty, pleasure and excitement. As a result a device that was initially heralded as the forerunner of a new technological era was a spectacular failure that threatened to bankrupt the firms that had invested billions of dollars in its investment."
> 
> (Basalla, 1986, p.185)

Whilst few computers were making it into our homes,
significant advances were being made in the background that with
hindsight seem obvious. Here I will employ the same three categories
used to analyse the robot's lack of adaptation in chapter three: form,
function and interaction, examining the individuals and institutions who
took the final steps towards creating the ubiquitous domestic computer
products that exist today.
<figure><img src="image_30.png" /><figcaption>Fig.23: Xerox Parc's Alto PC.</figcaption></figure>

The Alto personal computer (debuted 1973) featured the world's first WYSIWYG editor, commercial mouse for input, GUI, bit-mapped display with menus and icons, link to LAN and simultaneous file storage.

These sold only to industry and were never available to the general public. They were though highly influential for the designers at Apple.

<figure><img src="image_31.png" /><figcaption>Fig.24: Xerox Parc's three-button mouse.</figcaption></figure>

Three-button mouse (circa 1970s), Xerox PARC's choice of GUI pointing device for personal computing based on a principle called Fitt's Law.

The mouse evolved from Doug Engelbart's research for the ARC. (Augmentation research Centre)
Interacting with computers: *Designing the interaction*

Many early personal computers inherited the complex methods
of interaction employed by computer scientists. The Honeywell Kitchen
Computer, for example, required the user to sit through a two-week
programming course in order to operate the product. For technology
to be truly domesticated it needs to be relatively simple to use, or
for the benefits of the function to be worth the effort of learning. For
many years the majority of scientists and researchers in the computer
industry were happy for the computer to remain highly complex,
accessible only to technically oriented minds and skilled operators.
However, there was a small group of individuals pursuing a more
intuitive and common sense approach. In the following passage Howard
Rheingold describes Doug Engelbart's first presentation of his new
interactive concept at the 1968 Fall Joint Computer conference in
San Francisco:

"In front of him was the display screen ... the screen could be divided into a number of 'windows', each of which could display either text or image. The changing information displayed on the large screen, activated by his fingertip commands on the five-key device and his motions of the mouse, began to animate under Doug's control. Everyone in the room had attended hundreds of slide presentations before this, but from the moment Doug first imparted movement to the views on the screen, it became evident that this was like no audio visual presentation anyone had attempted before.

Engelbart was the very image of a test pilot for a new kind of
vehicle that doesn't fly over geographical territory but through
<figure><img src="image_32.png" /><figcaption>Fig.25: IBM PCjr.</figcaption></figure>

<figure><img src="image_33.png" /><figcaption>Fig.26: Apple Macintosh. Both launched in early 1984. The IBM survived on the market for little over one year before being discontinued.<fnref n="52" /> The Mac was the first commercially successful personal computer to feature a mouse and a graphical user interface rather than a command-line interface.<fnref n="53" /> This computer was popular until the early 1990s.</figcaption></figure>

<footnote n="52">52. For further reading on the demise of the IBM PCjr, see Castro, J, Buderi, B and McCarroll, T (1985), 'Kicking Junior Out of the Family', http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,964850,00.html accessed 7 August 2011.</footnote>

<footnote n="53">53. Ken Polsson (2009), 'Chronology of Apple Computer Personal Computers', http://www.islandnet.com/~kpolsson/applehis/appl1984.htm, accessed 19 September 2011.</footnote>
what was heretofore an abstraction that computer scientists call
'information space'. He not only looked the part, but acted it: The Chuck
Yeager of the computer cosmos, calmly putting the new system through
its paces and reporting back to his astonished earthbound audience in a
calm, quiet voice." (Rheingold, 1985, p.190)

Engelbart's research for the Augmented Research Company (ARC) was extremely influential on the work that later took place at Xerox Parc, who in turn were responsible for Apple developing their famous GUI (Graphic User Interface). Here Steve Jobs describes his first visit to Xerox Parc:

"And they showed me really three things. But I was so blinded by the first one I didn't even really see the other two. One of the things they showed me was object orienting programming they showed me that but I didn't even see that. The other one they showed me was a networked computer system ... they had over a hundred Alto computers all networked using email etc., etc., I didn't even see that. I was so blinded by the first thing they showed me which was the graphical user interface. I thought it was the best thing I'd ever seen in my life ... within you know ten minutes it was obvious to me that all computers would work like this some day." (Cringely, 1996)

Whilst the research of both Engelbart and Xerox Parc did not result in successful commercial products, their simple and intuitive methods of interaction can be seen in every personal computer on the market today. A domestic technological product has to be simple to use, and in 1984 Apple released the Macintosh, the first commercially
available and relatively inexpensive computer to use a graphic user interface. Microsoft would follow one year later with Windows 1.0, the ancestor of the operating systems that currently have around 90% of the market share.<fnref n="54" />

The form of computers: Any colour so long as it's beige

In the early 1990s, personal computers mostly remained housed in the beige cases that were a direct throwback to their office heritage. There had been some earlier suggestions that computers could exhibit an aesthetic language more sympathetic to the domestic landscape, such as the gaming computers by Atari and the ZX series by Sinclair Research.

In giving form to his computers, Sinclair sent his industrial designer Rick Dickinson to visit Dixons, a large high-street electronics shop, to consider which existing products it should look like.<fnref n="55" /> The resultant computer was small and elegant, resembling more a prop from Stanley Kubrick's futuristic and extremely stylised film '2001: A Space Odyssey' (1968) than an office product. Alternatively, the Atari 2600 gaming computer had veneer inlays on its facade, following the televisions and stereo systems of that period. Both computers benefited from plugging directly into the television set, an already established technological product in the majority of homes, giving them an interactive and aesthetic familiarity.

Things finally changed in 1997 when industrial designer

<footnote n="54">54. Combined figures for Windows operating systems, see 'StatCounter Global Stats', http://gs.statcounter.com/#os-ww-monthly-201007-201107-bar, accessed, 23 August 2011.</footnote>

<footnote n="55">55. See http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-12703674</footnote>
<figure><img src="image_34.png" /><figcaption>Fig.27: Sinclair ZX80 (1980)</figcaption></figure>

<figure><img src="image_35.png" /><figcaption>Fig.28: Atari 2600 (1980).</figcaption></figure>
Jonathan Ive revolutionised the industry with the launch of the Apple iMac. This ongoing relationship between Apple and Ive's design department has been partially responsible for the company becoming the most successful developer of electronic products in the world.

## Computer Function: *Beyond word processing*

As technology journalist Robert X Cringely describes in his Third Law of Personal Computing: to succeed, a PC architecture must have an application that alone justifies buying the whole box - a killer app.<fnref n="56" /> In his book *Accidental Empires*, Cringely describes the flurry of activity in Silicon Valley during the early personal computer era, as countless companies and individuals attempted to bring their product to the mass audience. The early personal computers' emergence out of the office environment had not only informed their form and methods of interaction, but had also led to applications being based on business needs such as spreadsheets and word processing.

Viewing this 1970 *Life* magazine article (fig.29), sourced via the internet from my wireless laptop computer whilst on a working holiday in north-west France, it seems ludicrous that the ability to 'plan a dinner menu', or to 'print an invitation', would justify the not-insignificant outlay of the computer. The early Apple computers were launched with two programmes: a word processor (MacWrite) and a basic drawing package (MacPaint). Microsoft's alliance with IBM as software supplier had them ahead in the application game, but the computers produced during this era were predominantly still tools for the business market.

<footnote n="56">56. From http://www.pbs.org/nerds/qa15.html, accessed 16 August 2011.</footnote>
The Handy Uses of a Home

■ Planning a dinner menu

■ Balancing bank accounts

■ Doing school homework

■ Figuring out income tax

Computer

■ Printing invitations

■ Keeping the budget

<figure><img src="image_36.png" /></figure>

Fig.29: "Computers for the home have been envisioned by science fiction writers and engineers ever since a huge, unwieldy prototype was developed 25 years ago. The whole futuristic age they prophesied, with an omnipotent electronic monster named Horace in every living room, is still a long way from realization, but compact consumer computers have quietly entered the household. While the market hardly rivals TV sets or refrigerators, the computer-as-home-appliance is now more than just a toy for the wealthy or a mysterious instrument for technical specialists." (Life magazine, 1970).
Apple, through working with Adobe on desktop publishing products, would eventually cement their appeal to the creative industries, moving sideways from traditional business usage, but few computers were finding a place in our homes outside hobbyist communities and game players.

The significant elements that finally combined to justify the appropriation of the computer were a complex melange of disparate technological progressions. First, the gradual transition towards digitisation led to several domestic media devices requiring a computer for playback and product management. For example, MP3 players became commercially available in the mid 1990s; digital cameras in the early 1990s and digital video cameras around 1995. This simple shift in human interaction with existing and familiar products gave rise to the first real justification for appropriating a computer for non-business use. The development and introduction of the USB<fnref n="57" /> during this period standardised and simplified connectivity between products, allowing for the computer to become a domestic hub for managing and viewing media.

The second and more significant development was the domestic implementation of the internet. Again, like the GUI, computer networks had been researched and used at Xerox Parc almost 20 years previously, but until the mid-1990s the internet was still a tool for experts and industry, lacking the infrastructure and breadth of purpose it has today. Returning to Cringely's law on the killer application, the early internet would struggle to justify the cost of the computer, as

<footnote n="57">57. Universal Serial Bus: a standardised serial computer interface that allows simplified attachment of peripherals, especially in a daisy chain.</footnote>
it was complicated to get connected, slow and lacking in content.

However, once again things started to change with the 1997 iMac. In line
with Apple's philosophy of making things intuitive and simple to use, the
iMac connected to the internet in three simple steps:

Presenting 3 easy steps to the internet.

Step one: Plug in.

Step two: Get connected.

Step three: Laughs ... There is no step three ... laughs ... There
is no step three.

(Apple iMac television commercial, 1997)

Appropriation and more: *Post utility*

This section describes the final phase in the domestication
process experienced predominantly as a shift in the value of the object.

Baudrillard makes a poignant division when classifying domestic
products. This stems from his rather specific use of the word *objet*:
“anything which is the cause or subject of a passion; figuratively – and
*par excellence* – the loved object.” (2005, p.91).<fnref n="58" /> He goes on to describe
the two functions of any object: “to be put to use and to be possessed
... these two functions stand in inverse ratio to each other” (ibid). This
notion that the emotional object must be divorced from any utilitarian
aspect has been noted by the ethnologist J P Digard in relation to pets:

<footnote n="58">58. Here Baudrillard quotes from Littér's French Dictionary with the definition for objet (object).</footnote>
<figure><img src="image_37.png" /><figcaption>Fig.30: The 1997 Apple iMac perhaps deserves the title of the first domestic computer combining successfully the three elements described earlier: form, function and interaction.</figcaption></figure>

"The most misunderstood yet perhaps the most interesting aspect of pets is doubtless the following: to be permitted to become close friends with their owners, these animals have to be completely available for them and to have no other purpose than just being their owner's companion."
(1990, p.234)

Conveniently in *The System of Objects*, Baudrillard, quoting Maurice Rheims, likens the object to a dog: "For man, the object is a sort of insentient dog which accepts his Blandishments and returns them after his own fashion, or rather which returns them like a mirror faithful not to real images but to images that are desired." (Rheims,
*La vie étrange des objets*, p.50, cited in Baudrillard, 2005, p.95). This personalisation of the image neatly represents the complex emotional and psychological factors exhibited by the post-utility object: no longer are form and function defined by the satisfying of tangible and relatively stable human needs, but rather are governed by a much more complex and extremely ephemeral set of criteria. This is exemplified by the ebb and flow of dog breeds, in synch with cultural trends, Hollywood films and celebrity behaviour.<fnref n="59" />

This adaptation represents the “objectification” stage of Silverstone’s domestication, as the object becomes “situated in its [owner’s] aesthetic environment”. Through customisation, the successful product becomes “the subject of a passion”, lifting its value above that of the unmodified or purely utilitarian object.

The computer, however, achieved its post-utility status in a slightly different manner - for it is not in the malleability of the hardware that we find its value, but rather the scope of possibility facilitated by its software and content. Through the ubiquity of the internet, the computer opens a window to a highly complex network of potential, facilitating connectivity between groups of disparate people with shared interests. This factor was noted by the original creators of the networked

<footnote n="59">59. For example, after the release of the 1985 version of the Disney movie '101 Dalmatians', new Dalmatian registrations increased 6.2-fold, from 6,880 registrations in 1985 to 42,816 registrations in 1993, followed by a precipitous fall to 4,652 registrations six years later (Herzog, Bentley and Hahn, 2004). And the following statement was made on a Chihuahua enthusiasts website in 2004: "Following the release of the film 'Legally Blonde' three years ago and after several celebrities, including most famously X-Factor judge Sharon Osbourne, acquired Chihuahuas they have become highly sought after pets. Many people have been searching for their ideal Chihuahua for over a year. Please remember that a Chihuahua is not a fashion accessory."</footnote>
computer, J C R Licklider and Robert W Taylor in their prophetic paper of
1968, ‘The Computer as a Communication Device':

> "First, life will be happier for the on-line individual because the people with whom one interacts most strongly will be selected more by commonality of interests and goals than by accidents of proximity." (Licklider and Taylor, 1968)

The privacy of the home perfectly complements the ability of
the network to bring together individuals with diverse and extremely
specific interests, leading to super-niche forums and social networking
sites that have revolutionised the way we interact. The domestication
of the computer has resulted in what is perhaps the most customisable
product ever to exist, simply because its flexibility lies not in the
hard components that make up the physical object but rather in its
dynamic, diverse and ever changeable content: it facilitates an infinitely
customisable experience. It required a suitable interface and benefited
from a more sympathetic form, but the key factor responsible for the
success of the computer in broaching the defences of the home was the
introduction of the internet: a global system of possibility and personal
expression.

Having made this examination into two successful recipients of
domestication, it is finally time to return to the robot. Reflecting on the
previous passage I would suggest that to a large degree Bill Gates was
correct in his first observation: the robot industry is in a similar state
to the computer industry of 30 years ago; robots have cemented their
place in both the industrial and military context; billions of pounds are
currently being spent on their development; and there is a concerted
<figure><img src="image_38.png" /><figcaption>Figs.31 & 32: The complex migration between systems, from the wolf in its natural environment to the dog in the domestic environment, reflects the will of humans expressed through the domesticated object.</figcaption></figure>
effort to bring them into our homes. The key question centres on Cringeley's law relating to killer apps and financial outlay. The 1970 *Time Magazine* article on the home computer mirrors the basic utilitarian proposals currently being made about robots, such as extended labour saving and stereotypical ideas of caring.

After Steve Jobs' visit to Xerox Parc in 1979, he almost entirely overlooked the potential of the networked computer to focus on the interface. Again this seems to echo the robot industry today, with the majority of research focusing on robot interactions and usability. Whilst these are of importance, without addressing the fundamental question - 'why would we need a domestic robot?', the final steps of the domestication process may remain unmade. I will leave it to Michael Pollan to conclude this chapter by reminding us why the dog has been so successful in entering domestic life:

> "The big thing the dog knows about – the subject it has mastered in the ten thousand years it has been evolving at our side – is us: our needs and desires, our emotions and values, all of which it has folded into its genes as part of a sophisticated strategy for survival. If you could read the genome of the dog like a book, you would learn a great deal of who we are and what makes us tick." (Pollan, 2002, p.xv)

<figure><img src="image_39.png" /></figure>
斗
## Speculative design:
The products that technology could become

In the previous two chapters I examined how technology ‘does’ and ‘does not’ become a product. This chapter is the last of the three enquiries: how technology could become a product. Here I discuss the practice of speculative design, describing how it can be used to present more plausible depictions of near-future technological applications. There is a lot of debate and discussion about the ‘what’ and ‘why’ of speculative design and related practice - for example, Julian Bleeker’s short essay, ‘Design Fiction’ (2009), Bruce Sterling’s article on Design Fiction in *Interactions Magazine* (2009) and Carl Disalvo’s essay, ‘Design and the Construction of Publics’ (2009) - but as this is a practice-based thesis I will focus more on the ‘how’. I will describe the methods through case studies, either of my own projects or projects completed by graduates and students of the Design Interactions course at the RCA, where I have been teaching since 2005 and carrying out this research.
Speculative design: *Motivations*

As described in the previous chapter, technology mostly
advances in small iterations, and many of the concepts behind
contemporary products such as the telephone and the computer
have a lineage that can be traced back to the beginnings of the last
century and beyond. Initially these provided clear improvements to the
human condition and their value was obvious. Now, many generations
later, we find ourselves very far from where we started, but due to
the incremental nature of this *progress* it passes largely unnoticed.
We are like the frog in the famous anecdote, long since plunged into
a pot of cold water and slowly but surely the temperature is rising
as we imperceptibly begin to boil in our own juices.<fnref n="60" /> This metaphor
is perhaps over dramatic and pessimistic, but it does describe our
relative unawareness of the technological journey we find ourselves on.
There are few discernible methods for questioning this journey outside
philosophical enquiries such as the writings of Martin Heidegger,
Jacques Ellul and Langdon Winner, research in the social sciences
such as Science and Technology Studies (STS), and alternative cultural
approaches such as those practised by the Amish.<fnref n="61" /> Speculative
design builds on these dialogues using fictitious objects at the core
of its enquiry. These are developed outside the rules and constraints
that inform and direct the development of normative commercial

<footnote n="60">60. Whilst biologists have disputed the facts of the story, it still acts as a suitable metaphor for the development and consumption of technology.</footnote>

<footnote n="61">61. For a thorough account of the Amish community and their use of technology, see Kraybill, 1999.</footnote>
technological products. It is a space for dreaming, challenging and
debating - and critically, through the use of designed artefacts as
its medium, it is intended to appeal to a broad and diverse audience,
from experts working in related fields such as designers, engineers
and scientists, to consumers and users of technological products and
services.⁶²

Historical and semantic issues

I began this thesis by addressing the complex issues
surrounding the definition of the robot. Here I find myself in a similar
situation: what to call this form of design practice? At this time there are
several established terms being used both in academia and the design
industry to describe practices similar to the one outlined here. After
much consideration I have settled on speculative design, analogous to
speculative biology coined by the geologist Dougal Dixon:
"Speculative biology, or speculative evolution, is a term
that refers to a very hypothetical field of science that makes
predictions and hypotheses on the evolution of life in a wide
variety of scenarios and is also a form of fiction to an extent.
It uses scientific principles and laws and applies them to a
'what if' question (for instance: 'What if *Homo sapiens* never
evolved?'). Since one cannot make a definite prediction of
what would happen as a result of any 'what if' questions, this
topic uses a great amount of fiction and creativity to create a
speculative world." (Speculative Evolution Wiki, n.d.)

Speculative design operates in a similar way, but rather
than basing the predictions solely on scientific laws and principles it
also incorporates a cultural element: the role of fashion, trends and
human choice in shaping artefacts. Dixon's description fits well with
my understanding of speculative design, but for reasons that will be
expanded on in the following pages, the term still requires careful
management.

Other terms in contemporary use that could have been used
are described below. I will briefly list and define each of the terms
before explaining the factors that determined my decision:

As a student of Anthony Dunne in the Design Products
department at the RCA, his book *Herzian Tales* was a big influence
on my design practice, in particular the motivation and methods of
critical design:

"Critical design uses designed artefacts as an embodied
critique or commentary on consumer culture. Both the
designed artefact (and subsequent use) and the process of
designing such an artefact cause reflection on existing values,
mores, and practices in a culture.

A critical design will often challenge its audience's
preconceptions and expectations thereby provoking new ways
of thinking about the object, its use, and the surrounding
environment." (Dunne, 1999)

Similar in intent is *discursive design*, coined by Bruce and
Stephanie Tharp. Below they describe the motivation behind this form of
design practice:

> "The primary intent of the discursive designer is to encourage users' reflections upon, or engagements with, a particular discourse; the goal is to affect the intellect. As distinct from objects of art, architecture, and graphics, which can all be agents of discourse, products have particular qualities that offer unique communicative advantages."
>
> (Tharp and Tharp, n.d.)

A similar kind of intellectual engagement with the role of
objects is suggested by the following definition of design fiction, coined
by the science fiction writer Bruce Sterling:

> "The deliberate use of diegetic prototypes to suspend disbelief about change. That's the best definition we've come up with. The important word there is *diegetic*. It means you're thinking very seriously about potential objects and services and trying to get people to concentrate on those rather than entire worlds or political trends or geopolitical strategies. It's not a
kind of fiction. It's a kind of design. It tells worlds rather than stories." (Bosch, 2012)

Also using this term but in a slightly different way is

Julian Bleeker:

"Design Fiction is making things that tell stories. It's like science fiction in that the stories bring into focus certain matters-of-concern, such as how life is lived, questioning how technology is used and its implications, speculating about the course of events; all of the unique abilities of science fiction to incite imagination-filling conversations about alternative futures. It's about reading P K Dick as a systems administrator, or Bruce Sterling as a software design manual. It's meant to encourage truly undisciplined approaches to making and circulating culture by ignoring disciplines that have invested so much in erecting boundaries between pragmatics and imagination." (Bleeker, 2009)

Philips Design Probes could be seen as having a similar agenda:

"Design Probes is a dedicated 'far-future' research initiative to track trends and developments that may ultimately evolve into mainstream issues that have a significant impact on business. The Probes generate insights from research in five main areas; politics, economic, culture, environments and technology futures.

With the aim of understanding 'lifestyle' post 2020, the program aims to identify probable systemic shifts in the social
<figure><img src="image_40.png" /><figcaption>Fig.33: *Alternative presents and speculative futures.*</figcaption></figure>

At the origin is the here and now: everyday life and real products available on the high street. The lineage of these products can be traced back to where the technology became available to iterate them beyond their current form. The technology element on the lefthand side represents research and development work - the higher the line the more emergent the technology and the longer and less predictable its route to everyday life (domestication). As we move to the right of the diagram and into the future we see that speculative designs exist as projections of the lineage. They are developed using a technique that focuses on contemporary public understanding and desires and extrapolate these through the imagined application of an emerging technology. Alternative presents step out of the lineage at some relevant time in the past to re-imagine our technological present. These designs can challenge and question existing cultural, political and manufacturing systems.
and economic domains likely to affect our business and create
intellectual property in new areas. It challenges conventional
ways of thinking to come up with concepts to stimulate debate.
Deliverables range from scenarios and narratives to the
creation of experience prototypes and IP fortressing."
(Philips, n.d.)

There is much overlap between the descriptions above
- all remove the constraints of the commercial sector that define
normative design processes to create a space for thinking, questioning
and dreaming. The differences are subtle and based primarily on
geographical or contextual usage. With all these options available (and
of course new proposals), my choice was informed mostly by semantics
and the subsequent loading of experience: the *physical* object presented
as a 'design fiction' may be identical to a 'speculative design' object or
a 'design probe,' and so on, but the meanings of these words give the
*cultural* object a substantially different value. For example, the word
'fiction' after design immediately informs the viewer that the object is
not real; 'probes' infer that the object is part of an investigation; and
both 'discursive' and 'critical' directly reveal the intentions of the object
as an instigator of debate or philosophical analysis. These terms act
to dislocate the object from everyday life, exposing their fictional or
academic status.

For those within the design community these semantic
details are less problematic, as familiarity with the discourse makes
the terminology less important, but for those unfamiliar with these
practices, semantics fundamentally influence how the work is assessed.
As one of the core motivations of this practice is to shift the discussion
about technology beyond experts to a broad popular audience, the
choice of ‘speculative’ is preferable as it suggests a relationship
between ‘here and now’ and the design concept.

Speculative futures and alternative presents

Having settled on speculative design, it is now necessary to
explore some of the difficulties with this term, as it is not ideal. With its
etymological baggage, the word has a strong leaning towards conjecture,
guesswork or meditation. Many of the classic ‘visions of the future’ such
as jet packs and flying cars are pure speculations, playing to spectacle
and techno-centric dreams rather than being based on concrete
developments or logical trajectories.<fnref n="63" /> By employing the factors outlined
in chapter four, collaboration with scientists, respecting the rules of
the domestic landscape and by not straying too far into the future, it is
possible to craft a speculation that is more poignant, based on logical
iterations of emerging technologies and tailored to the complex and
subtle requirements of an identified audience/culture. The second
problem with the word speculative is related to the close relationship
between speculation and the future. Here it is important to state that
speculative design is not only about the future but is also a way of
analysing, critiquing and re-thinking contemporary technology. The
practice can be separated into two categories:

<footnote n="63">63. Whilst these speculations might become feasible in the technological sense, they ignore the more intangible but nevertheless crucial reality of everyday life such as insurance, licensing, legal liability, traffic control, resource issues, effect on urban planning etc.</footnote>
First, as described in the previous chapter, existing cultural
systems, lineages and modes of technological development can inform
future developments of an emerging technology: speculative futures
imagine and depict near-future products and services. These are
intended to act as a form of cultural litmus paper, testing potential
products and services on both a mainstream audience and within the
industry before they exist.

Second, alternative presents are design proposals that
utilise contemporary technology but apply different ideologies or
configurations to those currently directing product development. This
method is similar to the historiographical practice of counterfactual
histories,<fnref n="64" /> and the literary genre of alternative histories,<fnref n="65" /> but with
the emphasis on products and technological genealogy rather than
historical and political events. Here we break free of a lineage at a
certain historical point to question why things are the way they are.

Speculative design: *Crafting the speculation*

If a speculative design proposal strays too far into the future
to present clearly implausible concepts or describes a completely alien
technological habitat, the audience will fail to relate to the proposal,

<footnote n="64">64. For an excellent essay on the practice of counterfactual histories, see Bunzl, M (2004): ‘Counterfactual History: A User’s Guide’, http://www.historycooperative.org/journals/ahr/109.3/bunzl.html, accessed 19 September 2011.</footnote>

<footnote n="65">65. For a thorough description of alternate history, see Schmunk, R, *Uchronia*, http://www.uchronia.net/intro.html, accessed 19 September 2011.</footnote>
<figure><img src="image_41.png" /></figure>

Fig.34: ""I tried a bunch of different heads, but Steven Spielberg wanted to pay tribute to the shape of the spaceship in the original movie,' Sims said. 'No matter what I did with that head, we always went back to this shape. For the eyes, Spielberg kept saying they should be overly dilated, refracting with light almost like you'd see in a cat. Spielberg wanted one leg in the back and two in the front. At Stan Winston's we did an animation of the alien crawling on the ceiling, showing how his legs would function as arms as well and pick stuff up while using the other leg to balance.""

(Hart, 2008)
resulting in a lack of engagement or connection. In effect a design
speculation requires a ‘perceptual bridge’ between the audience and
the concept. Inspiration and influence can be drawn from diverse fields
such as observational comedy, psychology, horror films and illusion, for
the insights they offer into the complex workings of human perception
and how it can be consciously manipulated to elicit reaction.

Below I describe some of these bridging techniques.

Design for context: *Where does the speculation exist?*

Previously I employed the concept of ecological habitats to
critique existing robots.

This first point is a direct application of the advice given by
James J Gibson: (see p.72) that the laboratory *must* be life like. The
designer must consider the environment and context in which the
speculative products or services would exist; this could be a specific
space such as the home or office or a cultural or political situation
based on current developments or trends.<fnref n="66" /> This could be described as
an ecological approach to speculative design and helps to ground the
concept in a familiar or logical reality.

Below are two descriptions of the Martian from *The War of the
Worlds*. The first is an excerpt from H G Wells' original novel of 1898; the
second (and image) from Steven Spielberg's film version of 2005. If we
take the Martian to be a speculative object we can compare the two
approaches to its design.

<footnote n="66">66. A comparison could be drawn here with approaches in literature - for example in Mary Shelly's *Frankenstein*, the scientific research of Luigi Galvani was used to inform the methods of Dr Frankenstein in giving life to the monster. This gave the novel a contemporary validity and believability.</footnote>
<figure><img src="image_42.png" /><figcaption>Robot 4: This one is very needy. Although extremely smart it is trapped in an underdeveloped body and depends on its owner to move it about. Neediness is designed into very smart products to maintain a feeling of control. Originally, manufacturers would have made robots speak human languages, but over time they will evolve their own language. You can still hear human traces in its voice.</figcaption></figure>

<caption>Fig.35: Technological Dream Series: No. 1, Robots (Dunne and Raby, 2007).</caption>
<figure><img src="image_43.png" /></figure>

Robot 3: More and more of our data, even our most personal and secret information, will be stored on digital databases. How do we ensure that only we can access it? This robot is a sentinel, it uses retinal scanning technology to decide who accesses our data. In films iris scanning is always based on a quick glance. This robot demands that you stare into its eyes for a long time, it needs to be sure it is you. On another level, it asks what new forms of furniture might evolve in response to future technological developments.

<caption>Fig.36: Technological Dream Series: No. 1, Robots (Dunne and Raby, 2007).</caption>
"I think everyone expected to see a man emerge ... But looking, I presently saw something stirring within the shadow: greyish billowy movements, one above another, and then two luminous discs - like eyes ... A big greyish rounded hulk, the size, perhaps, of a bear, was rising slowly and painfully out of the cylinder ... The incessant quivering of the mouth, the gorgon groups of tentacles, the tumultuous breathing of the lungs in a strange atmosphere, the evident heaviness and painfulness of movement due to the greater gravitational energy on earth ... Suddenly the monster vanished. It had toppled over the brim of the cylinder and fallen into the pit, with a thud like the fall of a great mass of leather." (Wells, 2004, p.19)

The question I pose here is not which interpretation is the most compelling, engaging, terrifying or memorable, but which is the most likely. The celluloid version has a certain familiarity, resembling many other filmic depictions of disconcerting aliens in recent years. It displays its physical superiority to humans with a cat-like deftness, employing its several arms to move three-dimensionally around a room. It is without question captivating and terrifying and therefore perfect as a form of entertainment, which perhaps was the primary factor influencing its design. Wells' Martian on the other hand is clearly suffering, ungainly, awkward and struggling to cope with Earth's gravity. Wells trained as a biologist,<fnref n="67" /> so would have a good understanding of the concept of adaptation. Although this is pure supposition, logic suggests that Martians would be maladapted to life on Earth and his depiction

<footnote n="67">67. Wells had a first class honours degree in biology from the Normal School of Science in London.</footnote>
<figure><img src="image_44.png" /><figcaption>Fig.37: 'The Exorcist' (William Friedkin, 1973). Friedkin creates the uncanny through a gradual increase in contrast between the normal with the paranormal. The film depicts the demise of a young girl as a spirit possesses and subverts her body, the physical result being not unlike Frankenstein's monster described above.</figcaption></figure>

<figure><img src="image_45.png" /><figcaption>Fig.38: Afterlife coffin with microbial fuel cell (2007).</figcaption></figure>

<figure><img src="image_46.png" /><figcaption>Fig.39: Engraved Afterlife battery (2001).</figcaption></figure>
applies this theory to inform the design of the creature.

A similar approach has been employed by designers Dunne & Raby in their project Technological Dream Series: No. 1, Robots (2007). The stereotypical design of many robots could be compared to Spielberg's alien; Dunne & Raby dismantled this familiar image by designing their robots to be harmonious with the contemporary domestic landscape. The concept of adaptation here informs the design process, delivering objects that display an existential logic (or not in Wells' case) in their intended environment. Any experience that challenges a preconception will at first appear odd, but here the detail and finish of the artefacts, combined with the short explanations describing their functions and modes of interaction, entices the audience into exploring the concept further. The project successfully offers a new perspective on domestic robots by designing for the complex sensibilities of people: robots become needy and subservient to overcome our fear of them; furniture is adapted to accommodate new technologies, appearing familiar but with advanced functionality; technological interactions take place in odd but intimate ways. Even though their function is little described, we could imagine living with these robots due to their compatibility with the domestic habitat.

The uncanny: *Desirable discomfort*

In order to elicit audience engagement and contemplation on a subject, it is sometimes helpful for a speculation to provoke. If a design proposal is too familiar it is easily assimilated into the normative progression of products and would pass unnoticed. However, proposals dealing with sensitive subjects such as sex or death can quite easily stray too far into provocative territory, resulting in repulsion
<figure><img src="image_47.png" /></figure>

"Why an aeroplane? Why a Spitfire Mk 1?

I don't feel the need to be remembered as an object. I'd like my energy to create an act. Since a child flying has fascinated me, not sure why, just does. I have always wanted to fly but have never completely felt at ease enough to think I could manage it without killing myself. I still intend to fly myself in one way or another but just in case I don't this will ensure it.

Very rarely man creates an object that connects with the human soul; anyone who has witnessed a Spitfire and especially the MK1 in flight will have felt that connection. It looks, sounds, functions and is just 'right', it is perfect. The curve of the wings, its proportions, its functionality, it was also fitted with the Rolls Royce Merlin which without exception, before, after or at anytime in the future is the greatest four stroke engine ever produced." (Tom O'Brien, 2009)
<figure><img src="image_48.png" /></figure>

"We'd use our battery for a euthanasia machine.

As we are a couple, once one goes, we're not sure how long the other one would be able to hang on. So, if it's all too much, we could use the energy from the first one to go, to help the second one on their way. I'm not sure if it would be a form of conceptual murder or not, but definitely an 'assisted' suicide.

Ideally we'd like to propose an object based on an existing machine, it would foreground the battery, which would be inscribed and silver-plated. We would probably replace the usual questions the machine asks you to check your state-of-mind with something more personal.

We imagine you would set it up on a small table by your bed or a chair, insert the battery, put the mask on, then after a few minutes, insert the tube into the device which causes a green light to come on letting you know it is working and ready. Then, you can lie back on your bed, or armchair, close your eyes, and 30 seconds later the carbon dioxide will begin to flow ...

(Anthony Dunne and Fiona Raby, 2009)

<caption>Figs.40-41: Selected Afterlife concepts by invited individuals/couples.</caption>
<figure><img src="image_49.png" /></figure>

"A regular event in my family life is the argument over the control of the TV remote and the programmes that we will collectively watch. There is a complex process of negotiation that involves give and take, selfishness and selflessness. I would like to be memorialized in an evocation of this process, not least because I want to be remembered in relation to mundane technology (one of my academic specialisms), as a typically contradictory human being, and as a loving partner and father who was intent in bettering his family (my preferred genre was nature documentaries) while being chronically silly.

I would like my Afterlife battery to power a small speaker mechanism (much like the sort you find in a singing birthday card) integrated into a remote control. Whenever the TV is switched on by the remote, a recording of my voice is played to say either: 'It's my turn, so I'm going to decide what we watch' or 'I really don't mind, it's your turn to choose.' Given how fragile and contentious everyday familial memory is, these two phrases should appear at random. Alternatively, and slightly more subtly, I'd like my Afterlife battery to power a circuit that makes the TV remote select very occasionally, automatically and unpredictably a channel showing a nature documentary. The channel cannot be changed for the duration of the programme, and the television can only be switched off at the mains." (Mike Michaels, 2009)
<figure><img src="image_50.png" /></figure>

"My basic idea stems from the deceased (myself) being an attention seeking and needy individual in life, so it follows that death should not pry his grip from the ones around him. He must be remembered by providing a useful battery for his loved ones, but one battery isn't enough. To be remembered only twice more - when the battery is installed and when the battery dies - simply will not suffice. He wants to die many times so that his loved ones will recall, each time, how much they miss him.

The deceased requests that a series of cells are manufactured, each with a random volume of electrolyte, so that the user of the cell never knows how long it will last. One may last a month, another a year. The deceased then, in death, continues to get the attention they so desired in life.

The exact devices in which the cells are to be used are not specified by the deceased. Though, he does request they be used in devices that are used by his loved ones to perform banal but vital tasks in their lives. (e.g. hearing aid, pacemaker, bike lights, garage-door opener, etc.)" (Matt Karau, 2009)

<caption>Figs.42-43: Selected Afterlife concepts by invited individuals/couples.</caption>
or outright shock. The design solution is complex and contradictory, provocative whilst at the same time familiar. Sigmund Freud described the paradoxical reaction humans have - invoking a sense of familiarity whilst at the same time being foreign - as 'uncanny'. The term used by social psychologists is cognitive dissonance.<fnref n="68" /> This is a complex and difficult reaction to manage, but when achieved responses to the design concept tend to be both meaningful and strong. As Freud describes, the most powerful experiences of the uncanny come through death, such as dead bodies, spirits and ghosts (p.148); or severed body parts and malfunctioning bodies such as epileptic fits and madness (p.150). Freud goes on to suggest that by using the uncanny, "the story-teller has a *peculiarly* directive power over us; by means of the moods he can put us into, he is able to guide the current of our emotions". Here he refers specifically to literary works such as the novels of gothic horror exemplified by Edgar Allan Poe's *The Fall of the House of Usher* (1839) and Mary Shelley's *Frankenstein* (1818):

> "His limbs were in proportion, and I had selected his features as beautiful. Beautiful! Great God! His yellow skin scarcely covered the work of muscles and arteries beneath; his hair was of a lustrous black, and flowing; his teeth of pearly whiteness; but these luxuriances only formed a more horrid contrast

<footnote n="68">68. Leon Festinger coined the term in his 1957 book *A Theory of Cognitive Dissonance*. He described the experience as "the feeling of psychological discomfort produced by the combined presence of two thoughts that do not follow from one another". Festinger proposed that the greater the discomfort, the greater the desire to reduce the dissonance of the two cognitive elements (Harmon-Jones and Mills, 1999, p.3).</footnote>
with his watery eyes, that seemed almost of the same colour
as the dun-white sockets in which they were set, his shrivelled
complexion and straight black lips.” (Shelley, p.58)

Shelley creates the uncanny by first describing familiar signs
of wellbeing and normality, then contrasting these with signs of disease
and death. More recently, this deft juggling of signs has been practised
by film directors such as Stanley Kubrick ('The Shining', 1980) and
William Friedkin ('The Exorcist', 1973) to powerful cinematic effect.

Careful management of the uncanny is imperative when a
project attempts to deal with subjects such as death or the invasion
of the human body (for example technological implants). Whilst in the
genre of horror, the maximising of this reaction is the end goal. For a
speculative design project a more subtle approach is required.

The Afterlife project (Auger-Loizeau, 2001-2009) directly
touched on the sensitive issue of human mortality. The core concept
was the application of a microbial fuel cell<fnref n="69" /> after the death of a
human being. This intervention charges a dry-cell battery during the
decomposition process of the body. The installation of the project, at
New York's Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) exhibition 'Design and the
Elastic Mind' (2007), presented the piece as a metaphysical dialogue,
examining the cultural shift from belief systems upheld by organised
religion to the more factual basis of science and technology. With
Afterlife technology acts to provide conclusive proof of life after death,
life being contained in the battery.

<footnote n="69">69. A device that uses an electrochemical reaction to generate electricity from organic matter. For more information on this device see the project Carnivorous Domestic Entertainment Robots described in chapter five.</footnote>
Unfortunately the viewers chose mostly to ignore the intellectual aspect, focusing instead on the more unsavoury aspects of the project - namely tampering with the process of death, the passing of a loved one and the material activity of the human body during the operation of the fuel cell (decomposition). This resulted in simple repulsion as the benefits of the concept were overlooked. The audience experienced the proposal as too uncanny.

In 2009 we were invited to present Afterlife at Experimenta 09, the Design Biennale in Lisbon, Portugal. This provided an opportunity to reflect on the problems of the MoMA approach, specifically how the presentation could be adjusted to move beyond material factors and repulsion to touch the sensibilities of the audience. In addressing this problem we shifted the emphasis from the fuel cell and coffin to the function of the battery. This effectively heightened the *familiar* aspect of the uncanny experience. To communicate the diversity and possibility of battery applications we invited 15 colleagues to propose what they would do with either their own Afterlife battery or that of a loved one. They were also asked to write a short paragraph describing their choice:

The installation in Lisbon focused on the 15 proposed Afterlife battery applications. The short narratives supporting the objects introduced an emotional and personal content that the project previously lacked. This encouraged the audience to reflect on how they themselves might use the battery, countering the initial repulsion factor and resulting in a form of desirable uncanny.<fnref n="70" />

<footnote n="70">70. One visitor was lingering for some time at one of the proposals. I walked over to speak to her; she turned to me with tears running down a red face. She told me that in life, her father behaved in exactly the same way as the father described in the text, relating perfectly to the proposed function of his specific afterlife battery.</footnote>
Verisimilitude: *Design fiction or design faction?*

Thinking once again about *The War of the Worlds*, I remembered Orson Welles' famous radio play of 1938 that created widespread panic in certain US towns due to its realistic delivery. Looking more closely into why this particular broadcast was so successful in bringing fiction to life it became apparent that it was not down to one single factor but several disparate timely elements: the prevailing political and cultural atmosphere (coming war in Europe; Munich Crisis of 12-30 September); the product used for the dissemination and its contemporary relevance (the radio); the language and style of the broadcast (based on previous disaster broadcasts such as the crash of the airship Hindenburg); and the shift in setting from England to very specific real places in the US (where the play was broadcast).

The techniques employed by Welles bear many similarities to those used in the creation of convincing speculative design projects: the crafting of a complex narrative or artifice using the real-life ecology where the fictitious concept is to be applied, and taking advantage of contemporary media, familiar settings and complex human desires or fears.

It is these real-life delivery methods that differentiate design fictions from their science fiction cousins. We predominantly experience science fiction through film, television, novels or comics, and as such consciously and willingly enter into the fiction as soon as the curtain rises or the book is opened. Reality is temporarily suspended until the end credits roll and normal life clicks back into place.

Speculative design fictions can be played out in real life. The presence of the designed artefact in popular culture allows for the viewer to project its presence into his or her own life. Then they effectively
<figure><img src="image_51.png" /><figcaption>Fig.44: Audio Tooth Implant (Auger-Loizeau, 2001).</figcaption></figure>