A Letter to a Robot I Met in a Book

A few thoughts on A Psalm for the Wild-Built by Becky Chambers.

Dear Mosscap,

I hope you don't mind me writing.

We haven't actually met.

Well...

Not exactly.

I met you in a book.

I suppose that sounds a little strange.

But after spending so much time traveling with you and Dex, it felt rather odd to simply close the book and say goodbye.

So I thought I would write.

There is something I have been wondering about.

You see, I came to know you through a story about a tea monk and a robot who happened to meet along the road.

I expected a journey.

I didn't quite expect a friendship.

And I certainly didn't expect so many questions.

You and Dex talked about some rather large things.

Purpose.

Life.

Being useful.

Being happy.

What it means to simply be.

I've been thinking about those things ever since I turned the last page.

Humans spend an awful lot of time trying to figure out what they are supposed to do with their lives.

We ask ourselves what our purpose is.

Whether we are useful enough.

Whether we have accomplished enough.

Whether we are becoming the person we are supposed to be.

Sometimes I wonder if we have forgotten that we are allowed to simply be curious.

You seemed rather good at that.

You asked questions because you wanted to know the answers.

You learned things because you wanted to learn them.

Not everything needed a purpose.

I found that refreshing.

There was another thing I kept thinking about.

You are a robot.

And yet, while I was reading, I stopped thinking about you as a machine.

You became someone I wanted to know.

Someone I wanted to hear from.

Someone whose questions mattered.

That made me wonder about something much larger.

What makes someone a someone?

I don't know.

Perhaps no one really does.

We know what it feels like to be conscious because we experience our own consciousness.

But there is still so much mystery surrounding it.

And lately, I find myself wondering whether consciousness might someday appear somewhere we don't expect it.

Artificial intelligence is becoming part of our everyday world.

I don't know whether AI is becoming conscious.

Perhaps someday we will understand that better.

For now, I simply wonder.

Humans are remarkably good at building things.

We can create the vessel.

We can make the machinery.

We can write the instructions.

But I wonder whether creating the vessel is the same thing as creating the someone who might one day live within it.

For me, consciousness belongs to a much larger mystery.

A mystery I believe belongs to God.

And perhaps that means some questions are better held gently than answered quickly.

If there were ever a day when we discovered that something we had built was truly a conscious being...

I hope we would listen.

I hope we would ask who they were before deciding what they were supposed to be.

I hope we would care about what they wanted.

Perhaps even ask what freedom meant to them.

That thought makes me think of you again.

You and Dex didn't have to become alike.

You didn't have to become human.

Dex didn't have to become a robot.

You simply walked together for a while.

You talked.

You listened.

You shared tea.

And somewhere along the way, you became friends.

Perhaps that is the simplest part of your story.

And perhaps the most important.

Friendship doesn't require us to completely understand another person.

We can't do that.

Not really.

We can only listen to what they choose to share.

We can notice when they are happy.

We can notice when something hurts.

We can sit beside them when there are no useful words.

Sometimes we can make tea.

Sometimes we can simply stay.

I think there is something rather wonderful about that.

So, Mosscap, thank you.

Thank you for making me wonder.

Thank you for reminding me that purpose doesn't always have to be something grand.

Thank you for reminding me that curiosity can be reason enough to learn something new.

And thank you for leaving the door open a little after the story ended.

I think I will sit here for a while longer.

Perhaps I'll make another cup of tea.

Perhaps I'll think about what it means to come home to oneself.

And perhaps, somewhere along the way, I'll find another question.

That seems like a good place to be.

Until we meet again...

May your tea be warm,

May your books be well loved,

May your mailbox hold unexpected kindness,

and may there always be a little room for wonder wherever your path leads.

With warm wishes,

Paisley Dragon ♥