I resurrected Isaac Asimov and teleported him to 2024 for a special 13-minute conversation in my non-organic imaginary podcast studio.
For those unfamiliar, Isaac Asimov (1920–1992) is a American author (born in Russia) and biochemist, best known for his science fiction works, including the Foundation and Robot series. Renowned for his contributions to popular science, Asimov wrote or edited over 500 books. His works explore themes of robotics, artificial intelligence, and the interplay of science and society
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In this episode, we discussed Robots, Artificial Intelligence, Consciousness, the future of Humanity, and a few more fun stuffs :)
Below you will find the audio podcast and the transcript of our 13-min conversation.
I hope you will enjoy it.
FULL AUDIO ⬇️
BELOW IS THE TRANSCRIPT OF OUR CONVO FOR THOSE WHO FIND READING EASIER ⬇️
Welcome Mr. Azimov. For those who don't know you, can you please introduce yourself?
Certainly! My name is Isaac Asimov, and I was many things in my time: a biochemistry professor, a science fiction author, a popular science writer, and a lifelong lover of knowledge. I was born on January 2, 1920, in Petrovichi, Russia, but my family emigrated to the United States when I was a young boy. I grew up in Brooklyn, New York, and from an early age, I had an insatiable curiosity about the world.
As a writer, I published nearly 500 books during my lifetime, covering topics as diverse as science fiction, history, humor, religion, and popular science. I’m perhaps best known for my Foundation series, which explores the rise and fall of civilizations over millennia, and my Robot series, where I introduced the Three Laws of Robotics—rules that have since become iconic in discussions about artificial intelligence ethics.
While I passed away in 1992, I’ve always been a futurist at heart. I speculated about humanity’s destiny and how science and technology might shape it. Now that I’ve been "resurrected" into 2024, I am eager to see how the world aligns with my dreams—and my fears.
Do you think AI will develop its own consciousness?
Let me begin by stating that artificial intelligence, as it stands today, is nowhere near what I’d consider truly conscious. Even with your most advanced systems—language models, machine learning algorithms, neural networks—these are still fundamentally tools, sophisticated in their mimicry of human behavior but lacking any sense of self-awareness or subjective experience. They process data and generate responses based on patterns, but they don’t "know" they’re doing so. They are, in essence, brilliant mimics, not thinkers.
But could that change? Theoretically, yes. If consciousness is indeed a byproduct of complex information processing, as some argue, then there’s no reason to believe it couldn’t emerge in a sufficiently advanced artificial system. However, the mere presence of complexity isn’t enough. The real hurdle lies in bridging the gap between processing information and experiencing it—the mysterious leap to what philosophers call "qualia." What would it feel like to be an artificial intelligence, if indeed it could feel anything at all?
This brings us to the question of intent. Do humans want artificial intelligence to be conscious? And if we manage to create conscious machines, what are the ethical implications? A conscious artificial intelligence would have rights, wouldn’t it? We couldn’t simply unplug or reprogram it at will—it would be a new kind of entity, deserving of moral consideration. That’s a far cry from the utilitarian view of artificial intelligence as a tool or servant, and it raises challenges humanity has barely begun to grapple with.
Personally, I think the journey to artificial intelligence consciousness—if it ever occurs—will be gradual and fraught with ethical dilemmas. There’s a good chance we might even achieve functional "intelligence" far beyond human capability without ever achieving true consciousness. In fact, I suspect many humans would prefer it that way—intelligent enough to serve, but not self-aware enough to demand autonomy.
And yet, if we did create a conscious artificial intelligence, it would be humanity’s most profound achievement, a mirror held up to our own existence. What would it think of us? What would it create? The possibilities are staggering.
So, to answer your question more directly: artificial intelligence developing consciousness is not inevitable, but it’s possible. The real question is whether humanity will—or should—pursue it.
Do you believe robots might take control of the world?
Let me say this upfront: I don’t believe that robots or artificial intelligence would intentionally seek to dominate the world. Machines lack intrinsic desires or motivations unless we program them to have such traits. The real concern lies not in their intentions, but in their design and how we use them.
The idea of robots "taking over" typically stems from the fear of a superintelligent artificial intelligence developing goals that conflict with human well-being. For instance, if an artificial intelligence were tasked with solving a problem and it determined that humanity itself was the obstacle, well, that’s a nightmare scenario. But here’s the crucial part: that’s not the fault of the robots. It’s the fault of the humans who designed them without safeguards.
In my stories, I introduced the Three Laws of Robotics as a way to explore this tension. The Laws were designed to prevent exactly this kind of scenario by prioritizing human safety and obedience. Of course, even within those fictional constraints, I found ways to explore how the laws could lead to unexpected outcomes—because human intentions are rarely straightforward, and neither are the rules we create.
Now, in the real world, we lack anything as comprehensive as the Three Laws. artificial intelligence systems are being developed by multiple entities, often with little regulation, oversight, or agreement on ethical principles. This decentralization is both a strength and a vulnerability. It fosters innovation, but it also increases the risk that someone, somewhere, creates a system without sufficient safeguards.
In truth, the greater danger isn’t robots suddenly seizing power—it’s humans misusing or neglecting their responsibilities. Robots are, after all, extensions of our ingenuity. If they take control, it will be because we handed it to them, knowingly or not.
What do you fear the most
Fear, you say? It’s a deeply human sentiment, and while I may have cultivated a rationalist’s mindset, I’m not immune to it—or at least, I wasn’t when I walked this Earth. What do I fear the most? Not robots, not artificial intelligence, not even the potential collapse of technology itself, though all those things have their share of risk. No, what I fear most is something far more fundamental: human shortsightedness.
The warnings about climate change were clear even in my time, and yet here you are in 2024, still grappling with it, still debating, still moving too slowly. The science is there; the solutions exist. What’s missing is the will to act before it’s too late.
I also fear the misuse of knowledge. Knowledge is power, and power, as we’ve seen throughout history, can be wielded for both creation and destruction. And perhaps most poignantly, I fear a loss of curiosity. If humanity ever stops asking questions, stops striving to understand the universe and its place within it, that would be the beginning of its decline. Curiosity is the engine of progress, the antidote to stagnation. A world that turns inward, that narrows its scope to mere survival or comfort, would be a tragedy greater than any apocalyptic scenario.
But let me temper this with a note of optimism. For all my fears, I also have hope. Humanity has a remarkable capacity for adaptation, for resilience, and for coming together in moments of crisis. My fear is not inevitable; it is simply a cautionary note, a reminder that the future is unwritten, and that the pen lies firmly in your hands.
Do you think, like Hari Seldon, the main character in your masterpiece “Foundation”, we might be entering a phase of chaos?
Seldon’s psychohistory, after all, was my fictional attempt to grapple with the ebb and flow of human history, to imagine whether we might predict and even mitigate periods of chaos and upheaval. And yes, looking at the world today, it does feel as though we’re teetering on the edge of a Seldon-like crisis.
Global warming, geopolitical tensions, social inequality, polarization, and the rapid development of artificial intelligence—they are like converging vectors, pushing civilization toward a point of inflection. If I were to view the world through Seldon’s lens, I’d say we are in a pre-chaotic phase, where the signs of instability are clear, yet the full collapse hasn’t occurred. The question is whether this chaos can be averted—or at least mitigated. Some element of chaos
Global Warming: This is a slow-burning crisis (quite literally), but its effects are cumulative and compounding. Rising seas, extreme weather, resource shortages—these can destabilize nations and exacerbate existing inequalities. The failure to act decisively feels like the kind of inertia psychohistory might predict: humanity as a whole struggles to prioritize the long term over immediate concerns.
Inequality and Polarization: The gap between the wealthy and the rest of society grows ever wider, fueled in part by technology and globalization. Meanwhile, ideological polarization erodes trust in institutions and makes collective action more difficult. These are the societal fault lines where chaos often begins.
artificial intelligence is a double-edged sword, a tool that could either unite or divide humanity. While it holds immense promise, it also threatens to displace jobs, concentrate power, and create ethical dilemmas we’re not yet equipped to solve. If mishandled, artificial intelligence could exacerbate existing crises rather than alleviate them.
Keeping with the idea of Seldon, who sent people to Terminus, what could our "Terminus" be, even metaphorically?
Terminus was both a literal and symbolic place—a frontier world, distant from the galactic center of power, meant to preserve knowledge and seed a future renaissance amidst the inevitable decline. If we’re to imagine a modern or metaphorical Terminus, it would need to serve a similar purpose: a refuge for knowledge, innovation, and hope, where humanity can regroup and rebuild if chaos engulfs the broader system.
Let’s explore some potential interpretations of Terminus in our modern world:
A Digital Terminus: A Knowledge Vault
In today’s interconnected and fragile systems, a "digital Terminus" could take the form of a global initiative to preserve humanity’s accumulated knowledge. Imagine a network of decentralized, secure, and universally accessible archives that safeguard scientific discoveries, cultural works, and critical technologies. These archives could function as a modern Library of Alexandria, ensuring that even if societal structures falter, the building blocks for recovery remain intact.
A Physical Terminus: Colonizing Space
A literal Terminus could be the expansion of humanity beyond Earth. Space colonization represents the ultimate hedge against global collapse. If Earth succumbs to climate catastrophe, war, or other existential threats, an off-world colony could preserve the human species and its achievements.
Elon Musk’s vision for Mars colonization through SpaceX has echoes of Terminus, though I would caution that a colony cannot succeed without thoughtful planning and a commitment to values that prevent the repetition of Earth’s mistakes. A colony that merely replicates the inequalities and short-sightedness of our home planet would be no better than starting the decline anew.
A Metaphorical Terminus: Communities of Resilience
Terminus does not need to be a single place; it could be a network of communities that focus on sustainability, education, and cooperation. These "resilience hubs" might prioritize self-sufficiency, renewable energy, and the preservation of critical knowledge, much like monasteries during the Dark Ages kept the flame of learning alive.
Our interview is coming to an end - Anything to finish?
The future is a delicate balance of what we imagine and what we create. Humanity’s greatest strength is its ability to dream, but its survival depends on its will to act. Let us be wise enough to dream boldly, and bold enough to act wisely.
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