Machine Mind

It is not surprising to find that this link has not been explored more fully by literary critics. In order to understand the connection, it is first necessary to understand the way a computer functions, and despite the number of people who use them, and rely on them to perform every day functions, there are relatively few people who actually know how they operate. If a computer were to try and write a short story, it would require first, a program. In order for the program to function, it would require what is called an algorithm, which is a concise, step-by-step guide. There can be no ambiguity in the algorithm. The final thing the program would need, is a pool of information. Computers don't think on their own, but given the right kind of data they can come up with an approximation of thought.

What the computer would do with this data pool, is extract from it the words, phrases, and similar necessary for writing. Now, the easiest conclusion to jump to, would be that the computer would spit out a very terse, matter-of-fact piece of descriptive text. That is not correct. In order for a computer to assemble any kind of meaningful text at all, it would require not only a library of the language it was meant to write in, but also a dictionary, not only of the words, but of concepts, ideas, and symbolisms. Not even technical writing can stand up to scrutiny without those things. The computer would then assemble something based not on the content of the words, but on their meanings. And the result? If the result had any meaning at all, it would most likely be a tangles mess of allegory, metaphor, and common descriptive text. Sounds remarkably like non-illusionist writing, doesn't it?

Donald Barthelme, in the short story The Explanation, from the book 40 Stories, addresses this fairly directly, although most likely it is unintentional. The story, in fact, lacks any classic descriptive text at all, and is delivered through a script-like series of questions and answers, accompanied by rather unenlightening black boxes, which provide an unusual visual element to the story.

The Explanation is ostensibly about a machine, or the description thereof through a kind of interview, and the black boxes are thought to be pictures of the machine. If they are, they are quite accurate, given the description from the story. Nothing is there. If looked as slightly deeper, the story seems to be about obsession, or sexual longing. Barthelme writes,

Q: What is she doing now?
A: Taking off her jeans.
Q: Has she removed her blouse?
A: No, she's still wearing her blouse.
Q: A yellow blouse?
A: Blue.
Q: Well, what is she doing now?
A: Removing her jeans.
Q: What is she wearing underneath?
A: Pants. Panties.
Q: But shes' still wearing her blouse?
A: Yes.
Q: Has she removed her panties?
A: Yes.
(Barthelme, The Explanation, p. 41)

The discussion of the woman's appearance and the subtle sexual undertones can be looked at as a metaphor for the machine itself, or rather the role of machines in society; sex is a powerful influence on humanity, and it is one that is seldom fully understood. The discussion of the woman is a perfect example of the machine mind at work, and of the relationship between the mind of modern man and his greatest of tools, the computer.

There are other elements present in the story which also mirror mankind's link to computers, in much the same way that the sexual metaphor does. There is the Christian mythology to contend with, the allegory of original sin, which is the perfect metaphor for the emergence of computers and other information technology. Barthelme says,

Q: What did you do then?
A: I walked on a tree. For twenty steps.
Q: What sort of tree?
A: A dead tree. I can't tell one from another. It may have been an oak. I was reading a book.
Q: What was the book?
A: I don't know, I can't tell one from another. They're not like films. With films you can remember, at a minimum, who the actors were...
Q: What was she doing?
A: Removing her blouse. Eating an apple.
Q: The tree must have been quite large.
A: The tree must have been quite large.
Q: Where was this?
A: Near the sea. I had rop-soled shoes.
(Barthelme, The Explanation, p. 38)

This thinly veiled allegory of an early segment of the Christian bible is another analogy of modern man's complex and rarely-understood connection to computers. Religion has always been a powerful influence on mankind's development. It is at least as powerful as humanity's reliance on technology for survival. It is also true that language, customs, and meanings behind the world's religions are considered rather arcane, and while they are believed fervently by many, they are rarely understood. The very same thing can be said about the obscure programming languages, dialects, and customs of computer engineers, software developers, and even the computers themselves. The machines ae used by millions, and understood by what can only be called a handful in comparison.

The Explanation, when looked at as a whole, is rather atypical. Short stories generally have a series of related events which serve to convey the idea of a coherent plot, and eventually also a theme, or rather the idea behind the story. The Explanation, on the other hand, lacks any sense of coherence of continuity. The story does not contain a series of related events which eventually culminate in some sort of resolution or conclusion, nor is the theme immediately apparent upon reading the story. In fact, the story seems to be a series of unrelated events, metaphors, and snippets of scenes collected to convey the ideas and feelings of the author through their own merit, rather than through anything remotely resembling plot.

Barthelme actually goes so far as to tell the reader that while he is no longer excited by the format he has chosen for the story, it does have certain advantages for his non-illusionist style. He writes, "A: I am bored with it, but I realize that i permits many valuable omissions: what kind of day it is, what I'm wearing, what I'm thinking. That's a very considerable advantage, I would say." (Barthelme, The Expanation, p. 39) The format allows him to be comfortably atypical, while still getting his point across.

While The Explanation is a rather unusual example of human writing, it could be said to be rather typical of what a computer would produce. Computers, as mentioned earlier, are rather stupid, and can do little or nothing on their own. What they can do, however, is take information fed into them, little sinippets of events, a few metaphors, and relate them to one another, if given wide enough parameters. In other words, a common theme would, under careful analysis, emerge from a plotless mishmash of events and metaphors. It is in that way that Donal Barthelme conveys that which he probably does not even realize; man is reliant on a power that he does not fully comprehend.

Borges, while similar to Barthelme, works on a different level. Barthelme is very pure in the sense that he is close to the machine mind; very little plot to get in the way of his ideas. He lets his themes appear through a collection of seemingly unrelated bits of text. Borges, however, takes the opposite to the extreme. He reveals his themes through an almost relentless examination of a single idea, or a single plot element. This is particularly true of The Lottery In Babylon, taken from Labyrinths. In the story, Borges discusses the idea of chance, a force of nature beyond the comprehension of even the greatest of minds, no matter how much that mind deludes itself into believing otherwise. Borges sets chance loose in a land about which modern man knows very little: ancient Babylon. The idea thrives and grows in that most recognizable of forms, the lottery.

A computer, when faced with any task, will use all the information available to it in order to complete the task in a satisfactory manner. So too, will a writer. Borges is renowned for possession a wealth of incidental knowledge, which serves him well in his non-illusionist writing. In fact, much of what seeps into The Lottery In Babylon is so representative of Borges' knowledge and his attempt to explore the idea of chance, that it completely erases any accuracy that might have been present in the plot. Periods of ancient history suddenly merge as though everything occurred withing the span of a single lifetime, that of the narrator. It is in this way that the concept takes precedent over the form and the dream-like state which has become the hallmark of non-illusionist writing comes into being.

The Lottery In Babylon contradicts itself wildly, starting with a very simple statement midway through the second paragraph. Borges writes, "I have not looked into its history; I know that the wise men cannot agree." (Borges, The Lottery In Babylon, p. 30) The statement itself refers tot he lottery, but it is utterly false. Almost immediately after making that it the narrator begins to tell the history of the lottery, and what it means to him and his people.

The narrator, who obviously is intended to be a citizen of Babylon at its height, speaks about his culture with an objectivity almost completely unknown to modern man, thereby making it difficult for the reader to identify him, and adding to the dreamlike quality of the story.

Another odd facet of the story is its mutation from a personal account of life in Babylon, to a history of the nation. The story opens with the promising, and rather typical, "Like all men in Babylon I have been a proconsul; like all, a slave." (Borges, The Lottery In Babylon, p. 30) The opening suggests that the narrator is presenting a personal tale, his rise to fortune and his decent into slavery, or perhaps the other way around. Instead, the reader is treated to a lengthy and rather clinical history of the lottery in Babylon. The story is not without its merits; it tells of secret societies, mysticism, foul play, and a Big Brother-like governing body known only as the Company. All of this, in fact, in the space of six pages, leaving little more than a few lines for each element, each exciting detail. The detail is then relegated to a dry recitation of fact, such as the following, "Under the beneficent influence of the Company, our customs are saturated with chance. The buyer of a dozen amphoras of Damascene wine will not be surprised if one of them contains a talisman or a snake." (Borges, The Lottery In Babylon) The personal detail of the story is almost gone entirely, aside from the use of a few words like our.

Borges' examination of chance is actually quite similar to Barthelme's exploration of lust and Christianity; both dealt with issues and concepts that have a powerful influence on modern humanity, all of which are barely, if ever, fully understood. The relationship of Borges to the concept of a computer program's algorithm is more difficult that with Barthelme, but that is a matter of time frame, rather than of content or style. Borges is less associated with the machine mind because technology had not reached the level of saturation in Borges' time, nor did the computer exist as it does today, and therefore these things affected his thinking processes less than the more modern Barthelme. Like all things, the machine mind exists in degrees.