Louisa Hall
If you’re familiar with Asimov’s works, you’d know one R.Daneel Olivaw. The robot who lived closed to 20000 years and shaped the fate of humanity. If you follow the Robot and Foundation series, it’s almost like Daneel’s biography. “Speak” reminded me of that because it is almost like a biography of AI. Or rather, an AI that was the most commonly used one until its doll manifestations – babybots – are shipped away to a desert for being too human-like. That’s where the book begins, and through five different narratives, we see its progression.
The book is as much about the narrators as it is about the evolution of the AI itself. Their voices live on through the AI, and a motley bunch they are. Mary Bradford makes her way across the ocean to Massachusetts some time in the 17th century, on a voyage (and a marriage) she doesn’t really fancy. She fills her diary with her thoughts on the soul, memories of her dog and her own confusions regarding her husband. In the 60s, the diary is read by Ruth Dettman, who convinces her husband Karl to name the (chat) bot he created MARY. They disagree on what memory could bestow on an AI (“MARY will remember your words, but it won’t ever feel them. It won’t understand them”, says Karl.) A little before that, Alan Turing writes poignant letters to his best friend’s mother. In 2035, Gaby White is a paralysed child, who cannot handle the trauma of her babybot being recalled. In 2040, Stephen Chinn, the inventor of the babybot, is a tech whizkid whose rather unfulfilling personal life is in sharp contrast to the various companionship tools and books he has given society, the climax of which is his imprisonment for a creation that was too human. MARY has been shaped by them, and their lives have been shaped by MARY.
The strands of cause and effects are too complicated to be completely unraveled, but there is a cohesive narration that is evident. I liked the book not so much for this structure, but the sensitive portrayal of nuanced and layered emotions. There is a neat irony here – what it means to be human conveyed through AI and flawed humans who worked on it.
Each “voice’ hits its own distinct note of poignancy, and the author’s prose handles them wonderfully well. There is a lyrical quality that adds much to the narrations. One of those books where the words reach out from the page, and make you pause and sigh before you read on. I think it worked for me because at its core, the book is about a fundamental human need – the desire for companionship, and the need to be understood.
