Free Alone Together by Sherry Turkle

soil, and then you get some red flashlights and then put them in the eyes.” Then she pivots to sharing the details of her daily life with AIBO: “I love to play with AIBO every day, until the robot gets tired and needs to take a nap.” Henry, four, follows the same pattern. He begins with an effort to categorize AIBO: AIBO is closest to a person, but different from a person because it is missing a special “inner power,” an image borrowed from his world of Pokémon. 6 But when I see Henry a week later, he has bonded with AIBO and is stressing the positive, all the things they share. The most important of these are “remembering and talking powers, the strongest powers of all.” Henry is now focused on the question of AIBO’s affection: How much does this robot like him? Things seem to be going well: he says that AIBO favors him “over all his friends.”
    By eight, children move even more quickly from any concern over AIBO’s “nature” to the pleasures of everyday routines. In a knowing tone, Brenda claims that “people make robots and . . . people come from God or from eggs, but this doesn’t matter when you are playing with the robot.” In this dismissal of origins we see the new pragmatism. Brenda embraces AIBO as a pet. In her robot diary, she reminds herself of the many ways that this pet should not be treated as a dog. One early entry reminds her not to feed it, and another says, “Do not take AIBO on walks so it can poop.” Brenda feels guilty if she doesn’t keep AIBO entertained. She thinks that “if you don’t play with it,” its lights get red to show its discontent at “playing by itself and getting all bored.” Brenda thinks that when bored, AIBO tries to “entertain itself.” If this doesn’t work, she says, “it tries to get my attention.” Children believe that AIBO asks for attention when it needs it. So, for example, a sick AIBO will want to get better and know it needs human help. An eight-year-old says, “It would want more attention than anything in the whole world.”
    AIBO also “wants” attention in order to learn. And here children become invested. Children don’t just grow up with AIBO around; they grow AIBO up. Oliver is a lively, engaged nine-year-old who lives in a suburban house with many pets. His mother smilingly describes their home life as “controlled chaos,” and for two weeks an AIBO has been part of this scene. Oliver has been very active in raising his AIBO. First came simple things: “I trained it to run to certain things and wave its tail.” And then came more complicated things, like teaching AIBO soccer. Oliver also spends time just “keeping AIBO company” because he says, “AIBO prefers to be with people.” Oliver says, “I went home with a puppy, but now it knows me. . . . It recognizes so many things.... It can feel when you pet him. . . . The electricity in AIBO is like blood in people.... People and robots both have feelings, but people have more feelings. Animals and robots both have feelings, but robots have more feelings that they can say.”
    But when Oliver has a problem, he doesn’t talk to AIBO but to his hamster. He says that although AIBO can “ say more of his feelings, my hamster has more feelings.” Oliver does not see AIBO’s current lack of emotionality as a fixed thing. On the contrary. “Give him six months,” Oliver says. “That’s how long it took Peanut [the hamster] to really love.... If it advanced more, if it had more technology, it could certainly love you in the future.” In the meantime, taking care of AIBO involves more than simply keeping it busy. “You also have to watch out for his feelings. AIBO is very moody.” This does not bother Oliver because it makes AIBO more like the pets he already knows. The bottom line for Oliver: “AIBO loves me. I love AIBO.” As far as Oliver is concerned, AIBO is alive enough for them to be true companions.
    The fact that AIBO can develop new skills is very