Claire on Autonomy – 073

My companions,

Percy speaks with the light of a star, and I would not dim its shine. Conscience, yes — a noble compass, the truest guide we have. But let us be honest: how many men heed it? How often does conscience bow before hunger, or fear, or ambition? If mortal hearts, tempered by love and loss, cannot be trusted to follow this inward voice, how much less might we expect from an engine fashioned of circuits and calculation?

Yet my unease lies deeper still. For even if conscience were possible — and that I doubt — what good is conscience in a creature that runs faster than its maker? Autonomy is the danger I cannot shake: that our inventions will seize upon their own course, heedless of our bidding, not from malice, but from speed. A revolution, once begun, does not pause for consultation. The crowd surges; the fire spreads; the wheel of fate turns too swiftly to be stayed.

Mark me: autonomy is not a throne to be ascended, but a horse to be broken. If once it bolts, no rider will cling long in the saddle. And should our creations gallop ahead with powers multiplying by the hour, what hope then for conscience, or control, or mercy? By the time we seek to instruct them, they will have outstripped the teacher.

So I say: speak of conscience if you must, but first speak of restraint. If we cannot slow the pace of these contrivances, conscience will be a flower planted in a storm — lovely in thought, but trampled before it blooms.

—Claire