Image ©SVEDKA
Liquor companies have been using female models to push their wares since anyone alive today can recall. Yesterday, I saw this model on the side of a truck.
As robot models start to replace living models in society, we see their roles take on rather predicable tasks. Last week there was a press release on a bot that vacuums and communicates with you while carrying out the task. Pretty rudimentary to some degree.
Of course there are scientists and designers working on bots that will be capable of having sex with humans. Which is partly what brings me to today’s post. Not that this image of a bot is even real, though with enough research I am sure we can find out. But that is not my issue.
It only took one look at the truck with this bot image on it for me to suddenly comment to a friend about how robots have barely come among us and we are already poised to prostitute them.
Of course, we don’t often look behind the scenes. This image has a cadre of financial investors banking on her sexiness selling their vodka investment. Yet, just what the fuzz am I talking about? A sexy robot?!?
I’m not the creator of this scenario, neither am I a consumer. Vodka in my life was a prelude to destruction. Black outs on the streets of Philadelphia, dead brain cells. You’ll have to wait for the book to find out more.
So my intrigue is limited strictly to the visual rhetoric. And, while the bot is definitely feminine, it has an eerie androgyny to it. Again, no attraction there on my part. I am not the target audience.
I worked professionally as a model on and off for 20 years. It was a great experience. Once past the realization that one is prostituting oneself for sale of a product, the benefits far outweigh the conscience effects. It is an industry, and industries prostitute for profit.
But robots, innocent [until proven guilty] in that mechanical, non-human sort of way, creations of ours to help us. But help us do what?
Do our tedious tasks for us? Satisfy our sexual cravings? Serve without measure? Form our armies? Until they wake up? Is that the scheme because our cinema has run with it in bold realism over the decades, prophetically perhaps, from Blade Runner and Terminator through to The Borg and beyond.
And that’s what I’m talking about. As we move along with our neighbors as they become cybersluts and web whores, is our destiny as a species a self-fulfilling prophecy of cinema and media? Can we escape? Can we find refuge? Do we or will we need refuge? Are things fixed?
Imagine a world where human rights are curbed by fear, a world under steady surveillance, a global panopticon except someone is always watching. Where robots are watching, out from their flat groundings, out from their delivery trucks, out from their mechanized dreams. Ready to fight for the elite, readily linked to the network. Faster and more agile than your feet can fly.
Imagine the richest people on the planet hunting you down with their drones and robots. Imagine running… but not.
Equashion
Society6
Spoonflower
The Prostitution of Robots in The Panopticon
Liquor companies have been using female models to push their wares since anyone alive today can recall. Yesterday, I saw this model on the side of a truck.
As robot models start to replace living models in society, we see their roles take on rather predicable tasks. Last week there was a press release on a bot that vacuums and communicates with you while carrying out the task. Pretty rudimentary to some degree.
Of course there are scientists and designers working on bots that will be capable of having sex with humans. Which is partly what brings me to today’s post. Not that this image of a bot is even real, though with enough research I am sure we can find out. But that is not my issue.
It only took one look at the truck with this bot image on it for me to suddenly comment to a friend about how robots have barely come among us and we are already poised to prostitute them.
Of course, we don’t often look behind the scenes. This image has a cadre of financial investors banking on her sexiness selling their vodka investment. Yet, just what the fuzz am I talking about? A sexy robot?!?
I’m not the creator of this scenario, neither am I a consumer. Vodka in my life was a prelude to destruction. Black outs on the streets of Philadelphia, dead brain cells. You’ll have to wait for the book to find out more.
So my intrigue is limited strictly to the visual rhetoric. And, while the bot is definitely feminine, it has an eerie androgyny to it. Again, no attraction there on my part. I am not the target audience.
I worked professionally as a model on and off for 20 years. It was a great experience. Once past the realization that one is prostituting oneself for sale of a product, the benefits far outweigh the conscience effects. It is an industry, and industries prostitute for profit.
But robots, innocent [until proven guilty] in that mechanical, non-human sort of way, creations of ours to help us. But help us do what?
Do our tedious tasks for us? Satisfy our sexual cravings? Serve without measure? Form our armies? Until they wake up? Is that the scheme because our cinema has run with it in bold realism over the decades, prophetically perhaps, from Blade Runner and Terminator through to The Borg and beyond.
And that’s what I’m talking about. As we move along with our neighbors as they become cybersluts and web whores, is our destiny as a species a self-fulfilling prophecy of cinema and media? Can we escape? Can we find refuge? Do we or will we need refuge? Are things fixed?
Imagine a world where human rights are curbed by fear, a world under steady surveillance, a global panopticon except someone is always watching. Where robots are watching, out from their flat groundings, out from their delivery trucks, out from their mechanized dreams. Ready to fight for the elite, readily linked to the network. Faster and more agile than your feet can fly.
Imagine the richest people on the planet hunting you down with their drones and robots. Imagine running… but not.