Re-creating Ourselves

God in the Machine: What Robots Teach Us About Humanity and God
by Anne Foerst, Ph.D.

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O GOD, you have searched me and you know me.
You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar.
You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways.
Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, oh GOD.
If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
If I rise on the winds of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea,
Even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.
If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,"
Even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.
For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb.
I praise you for I am wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works, that I know very well.
My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intrically woven in the depth of the earth.
You created me as golem in my mother's womb.
In your book were written all the days that were formed for me, when none of them as yet existed.

from Psalm 139

What Does It Mean to Be Human?

We need to begin with the most important questions that will follow us throughout the book. What does it mean to be human? How can humanness be defined? Can we ever come up with criteria that distinguish us from animals-or, for that matter, from robots? And what exactly is our place and our purpose on this planet, in our sun system, in the universe? Are humans special, or are they just another random species on an insignificant planet?

People have dealt with these questions for millennia. Countless answers have been provided, usually reflecting the specific cultural context in which they were formulated. As a result, many of these answers are unsatisfying for people outside the particular religious and cultural framework in which they operate. Is it really our intelligence that makes us human? Is it our creativity, or perhaps our ethics, that distinguishes us from animals? Is the essence of humanity the humanoid body-and if so, in what gender? At the MIT AI Lab, I was confronted with these questions every day. I found a Calvin and Hobbes cartoon that beautifully illustrates both the complexity and profoundness of this issue. Calvin says, "I read that scientists are trying to make computers that think. Isn't that weird? If computers can think, what will people be better at than machines?" And Hobbes answers, "Irrational behavior?" And so Calvin says, "Well maybe they'll invent a psychotic computer." I have always found that this is not just a good description of humans but also a very good introduction to the world of Artificial Intelligence and our attempt to rebuild ourselves with the help of machines.

Before we can focus on this endeavor, however, I would like to introduce you to the assumptions I have made about humans in order to write this book. I believe that humans are, before anything else, storytellers. When we attempt to understand ourselves and develop theories about why we are the way we are, we talk in metaphors and symbols. Before we can learn about ourselves as creatures who yearn to rebuild themselves, we first have to look at other stories about humankind.

The Storytelling Humanoid (Homo narrans)

When we search for ways to understand ourselves, we find many metaphors in the human sciences. We have attempted to describe what it means to be human in terms of humankind's evolutionary development. We know that we are mammals and share with chimpanzees between 98 and 99 percent of our genes (we share with yeast approximately 50 percent of our genes, so perhaps the commonality with the chimps is not too astonishing). In the evolutionary context, our nearest Homo ancestor is addressed with the metaphor Homo erectus (upright humanoid), which refers to our upright position. However, the two-legged walk alone does not turn a species into one that constantly asks fascinating and deep questions about itself. For this, we need a form of higher intelligence, thinking capability, or wisdom; therefore, scientists talk about Homo sapiens.

Observations of human behavior versus animal behavior reveal that humans are quite good at building tools and then larger, long-term constructions with the help of these tools. The metaphor Homo faber describes the universal human trait to build and construct things and to shape the world in which we live with the help of technology. We know that other primates use tools and that they teach their young how to employ them. Homo faber is distinct from these other species because members of this species can intentionally build and construct over time-even over several generations.

Churches often took several hundred years to be completed, and in the case of the church in my hometown, the Kölner Dom (Cologne Cathedral) in Germany, it took more than a thousand years to complete it. The Dom is my personal favorite of all the churches I have seen. Of course, I grew up with it, but, so far, no other church has inspired in me so much awe and such a profound sense of beauty and spirituality. Part of the awe is a result of its history; it is hard to imagine that people who possess different styles and tastes can, over the course of a millennium, construct something so unified and coherent. The Dom is in the Guinness Book of World Records because there has never been another building that took that much time to be constructed. The metaphor of Homo faber addresses our ability to follow our intentions and wishes over long periods of time through many generations. Our ability to speak and to write makes such a capability for planning possible.Homo sapiens cannot be without Homo faber; both are equal parts of being human. The seemingly "wise" Homo sapiens creates theories and visions while Homo faber constructs and verifies ideas. In AI, both are intrinsically linked.

A good example of the close connection between humans as creators of ideas and humans as toolmakers is Martin Luther's powerful influence on the thoughts of people in Western Europe in the sixteenth century. As a Lutheran, Luther is to me one of the greatest men in history. But most of his thoughts weren't unique or new. Many others before Luther had offered similar critiques against the Church, and they all were prosecuted and killed as heretics. What Luther had on his side was not only the greatness of his ideas but also a technical gadget, the printing press.

Gutenberg's printing press allowed for the wider distribution of the ideas of the Reformation. The fourteenth- and fifteenth-century Renaissance movement had called for education, among many other things. When Luther appeared, many people were able to read without the help of their priests and so they could absorb Luther's writings. The thoughts alone were not powerful enough to change the Western world; they needed to be contained and transmitted in a concrete and physical entity, such as a booklet or pamphlet.

It is, of course, Homo faber who constructs robots and many other things. If humans believe themselves to be created by a god, members of the species celebrate that god and god's creativity within them whenever they construct something; art, music, engineering, poetry, and thought are all new creations.

Building robots, as well as most other acts of creativity, contains a playful element. When Rod Brooks was once asked why he liked robots so much, he answered, "Because they blink and move." The playful humanoid (Homo ludens) has fun doing unusual things and accomplishing nearly impossible tasks. We are also very good at role- playing and act often according to a script, e.g., when we conform to the behaviors of the group we happen to live with, or if we take a specific role in a defined interaction between a small number of people. For instance, in a family, the father, the mother, and each of the children will take on a specific role that works in interactions with the other roles. One member might be the serious one; someone else might be the joker of the bunch. One might be responsible for healthy social interactions between the family members; another might be the peace builder or the disruptive element. Research even suggests that the birth order-whether a child is the youngest or the oldest of her siblings-as well as gender have a profound influence on the development of the individual child.

Homo ludens is a social animal with a fine sense for interaction. While the playful element should not be forgotten, it is important to remember that most games follow rules as well. Homo ludens seeks fun and entertainment and Homo faber often acts out of sheer pleasure. But humans also can use their abilities to work toward different goals, for example, to just make money. We are a greedy bunch and work selfishly toward our own economic and commercial success; that is why economical theories that are based on the metaphor of the Homo economicus are applied so successfully to market analysis.

Finally, theologians talk about Homo religiosus, the religious humanoid, which aims to be spiritual and to act in a meaningful way. Homo sapiens is at her best when involved in a spiritual enterprise. Many scientists think the metaphor of Homo religiosus unscientific and irrelevant. But history, cross-cultural studies, and anthropological paleontology indicate that with the rise of Homo sapiens there have been no groups or societies that did not have a religion and a story of their origin that would place them into creation and in a special and unique spot.

However, religion seems to be rooted into our system even deeper than we think. Our fellow primates sometimes have their own ritualistic behaviors. Jane Goodall, the eminent and first female primate expert, has a unique way of looking at our closest relatives. Unlike many of her contemporaries, she embraces similarities between them and us. I once heard her talk about a rain dance in a chimp tribe in which male chimps perform a dancelike ritual before a thunderstorm. I don't know if I would go as far as she does and call that behavior spiritual. But I certainly do agree with her findings, which seem to suggest that the phenomenon of ritualistic behavior has been in our primate species for a long time.

The concept of Homo religiosus is also supported by brain studies. Neurologists have discovered that a special part of the brain is connected to religious experiences. When people pray, this part of the brain is particularly active and if, in turn, the neurons in this part are artificially stimulated, the subject reports a religious experience. Other researchers have discovered brain changes that occur whenever meditations and prayers are performed. These brain changes helped the subjects to function better; they were relieved from a feeling of stress and could concentrate better.

In 1997, this research was reported in the popular media and created a nationwide discussion; the media dubbed the brain area in which the activities occur the "God module." Reactions from reporters were split. Half of them stated happily that now we know how God has enabled us to communicate with God; they saw the God module as a sure sign that God is real. The other half, however, felt the exact opposite. Here, they stated, is the final proof that religion is bogus. There is no God anywhere; it's all in the brain.

The researchers who discovered the God module protested against both of these views; they were adamant that their findings proved only a correlation between brain activity and religiosity, which is perfectly natural. We are bodies and, therefore, everything we experience has to manifest itself also in the physical realm. They said it was inappropriate to draw conclusions about God's being from these findings. But they weren't heard. People were much more intrigued to use this research to start again age-old fights about whether there is a God. Of course, this discussion is worthless, as there will never be any concrete proof one way or the other. But what the media responses showed was that, first, there is a lot of interest in the phenomenon of religion and, second, we always try to find seemingly scientific proof for what we believe. Faith is defined as what we can't know but trust in anyway. The discussion around the God module shows that this understanding of faith has been lost; most of us need proof to have faith. If anything, this discussion throws light on how much Homo religiosus is in us insofar as we all yearn for faith, for something to believe in.

The metaphors just described tell stories about specific aspects of human nature, such as the desire to create. It is appropriate, therefore, to introduce yet another metaphor for our species of humanoids that refers to our universal trait to tell stories: Homo narrans.

Humans have a need to tell stories, to make sense of the world. These stories help define us, help us to discover who we are, to create community. In fact, each of our Homo metaphors is a story in itself; it tells the story of a human being in a very specific context in which one feature is most prominent-our upright walk or our cognition. But, as the discussions about Homo religiosus show, humans today are not very good at accepting stories as stories. They need empirical evidence, they need proof, and they need verification of the facts. The attempt to understand the Bible as a factual, scientific book is a result of this way of thinking. We have unlearned our ability to understand metaphors as pointing toward a deeper meaning, telling stories. Instead, people today tend to understand them literally.

Most economic theories are based on the story of Homo economicus, the self-centered, pleasure-seeking humanoid. Predictions under that model can be very precise and can help us to understand economic tides. However, this does not mean that we are entirely egotistical and utilitarian. No one can deny that we all have a Homo economicus inside ourselves; it is, after all, one important aspect of us. But it is just one of many contradictory aspects of humans, and to say humans are nothing but self-centered and egotistical is simply wrong. We are also playful. And sometimes wise. If one were to take any of the Homo metaphors as absolute, we lose the richness and complexity of our self-understanding.

So storytelling is not without its own problems but it is our primary feature, the main method for interaction, and what we do best. Humans tell stories in every context possible: Stories are used to teach about the properties of our environment, and to make sense out of our perceptions and experiences; they help us to explain ideas and abstract concepts and they help us deal with the incoherencies of this world.

Jesus used stories to reveal his religious message. To the great grief of New Testament scholars, these stories are not coherent; there is no coherent body of rules, concepts of the world, of God or of Christianity. Every story of Jesus is embedded in a different context, told in a different situation, retold by different schools of thought. The Christian tradition usually accepts these stories as equally valid and attempts to preach all stories over the course of the years. They are never perceived as wrong because of their incoherencies; they refer to human life, which is always ambiguous and chaotic. The narrative form of the gospels reflects the nature of Homo narrans.

Homo narrans in the World

All cultures have a large body of myths and rites that define them and distinguish them from others. The words "cult" and "culture" share the same etymological roots, the Latin noun colonia (settlement), which derives from the verb colere (farm, cultivate, inhabit, honor). This connection implies that humans who live in a group create a community that is held together by common beliefs and rites.

Indeed, when we follow archaeological, anthropological, and sociological studies, we recognize that the trend to create community through rites and myths is universal. Further, all cultures have developed a treasure of stories and narratives that are memorable and can be visually and theatrically represented. Homo ludens comes right into play here as the term clown also derives from the root colere. All cultures have institutions or wise people who teach the body of stories embedded in a culture to the young and, thus, create cultural continuity between the generations.

Symbols are a more advanced form of narratives. A symbol brings two very different spheres together, two realms that usually have nothing to do with one another. Take, for instance, the flag of the United States, which can be seen everywhere since 9/11. Physically, it is a piece of red, white, and blue cloth with a pattern of some stars and some stripes. But this piece of cloth participates in a completely different, deeper, and more abstract concept: the idea of a nation in which many people and many cultures live together as a whole.

Another culturally important symbol is the cross, two laths nailed together in a ninety-degree angle that participate in the faith statement that Jesus was the Christ, the Messiah who, with his death and resurrection, promises us a reality without sin.

Symbols demonstrate impressively how humans are deeply narrative, as there is no language without symbols. In fact, language consists of symbols, because every word, created as a specific combination of letters, participates in the meaning of the word. Human thought can be expressed with language; therefore, it always has a symbolic character. Homo narrans always throws things together so that even if a connection is not immediately obvious, it becomes clear through societal consensus.

Gestalt images are a good illustration of how Homo sapiens is driven to create symbols and operate as storytellers.

In this famous gestalt image, we can see either two faces or a vase; we can, however, never see both simultaneously. Our perception apparatus oscillates quickly between the two interpretations of the image, and yet only both together give us a glimpse of the whole.

A group of people might agree that it is impossible to decide what it represents and let it go. But it seems to be very difficult for humans to live with this form of ambiguity and insecurity. Therefore, people can reduce the image to representing either a vase or two faces but never both together; they might even reject people who think differently, as other perspectives might challenge them.

The rationale for returning the image in a certain way could be reinforced by stories that justify why one perspective is correct for a specific group. For instance, one group might say that whoever sees faces is just imagining things, as they know it is a picture of a vase and the faces are just an illusion. These stories usually contain an element that explains the ambiguity of the picture and defines in what situation you will see one image or the other. In any case, the people within one group will very likely go with whatever narrative their group creates to make sense out of this ambiguous sight and will reject other perspectives.

Stories can define groups; belief in a story identifies an insider, and disbelief an outsider. The very ambiguity of our perception apparatus and our incapability to live with incoherencies explains in part why interactions between members of groups with opposite stories (it's a vase or it's two faces, respectively) can be hostile. Any opposition challenges our narrative worldview.

I experience a concrete example of this with every freshman class at my school. St. Bonaventure University (SBU) is a small school in a rural area that attracts mostly kids from the region; however, there are also kids from farther away. In upstate New York, people refer to nonalcoholic carbonated drinks as pop while other Americans refer to them as soda. Every year, there is a fight between those freshmen who say pop and those who say soda, each of them convinced that they are right and the other is wrong. Some people try to compromise and come up with something such as soda-pop, but this usually doesn't work. The question is why the students get so emotional about such a trivial thing. And here Homo narrans comes into play.

The identification with the regional pop is a protection against outsiders. The students who come from western New York State usually grew up there and identify themselves with the region and the school. Others might see SBU as a stepping-stone toward other things and might even look down on the people from the area. There might also be a slight insecurity of people in the region, as they often are confronted with the prejudice that they are too rural and naïve to be taken seriously by the rest of the state. So the seemingly trivial fight over soda or pop has significance for the identity of both people from the region and from outside. The identification with one term or the other will put each student in a specific group with its own stories and references.

In these interactions of groups, individuals, and the larger community (i.e., St. Bonaventure University), several stories will be created and each of these stories will define specific groups, such as the regional-student pop group or the outsider-student soda group.

The gestalt figures add another level of complexity to this interaction. We can imagine how a dispute over faces versus vase, as between soda versus pop, might work. First, there is the human who looks at the figure, her perception apparatus oscillating very quickly between the images and her discomfort with this ambiguity unresolved. Then, there is the outreach for a group that identifies with her discomfort but has also reached some form of consensus about how to deal with it. Then there is the story that overcomes ambiguity by reducing the image to either two faces or a vase, and that declares the other perception as illusion. Finally, there is the dispute between members of opposing groups. To ignore even one of these elements or their related interactions reduces the whole perception process to the mere looking at the picture and loses the richness of the process.One of the most common examples for the manipulation of visual input in the interaction between brain and eyes is the human desire to detect patterns. Many experiments have been done to demonstrate how capable we humans are of constructing patterns in a visual input, which consists of nothing but a chaotic, random collection of colored dots. Gestalt images make us aware of this part of our perceptions. We cannot help but see what the creators of these images intend us to see, and sometimes we are not even aware that the picture manipulates our visual input and our interpretation of it. Most gestalt images rely on hardwired functions and learned mechanisms in our brains that have been developed over the course of human evolution.

That we are storytellers can be seen as a consequence of this functional setting; as Homo narrans attempts to make sense out of the world around her, she will turn chaos into patterns and will ignore incoherent aspects of the input she receives. The image on the following page serves as an impressive example. It shows three circles that are part black and part white. Yet we cannot help but construct a triangle out of the pattern of white in the circles. Homo narrans will construct her perceptions, her expectations, and her experience within her community. And all of her community members will create stories within their own lives where these three aspects come together.

This book attempts to open up spaces in which we can create stories about the world that are not necessarily coherent but fulfill different and equally important functions for human life. The world then can be rediscovered as a chaotic, exciting, and wonderful place. It will never make complete sense to us, since we are part of it and create and shape reality with our stories every day anew.

Sin: The Human Incapability
to Deal with Paradoxes

The Bible is well aware of the human unwillingness and incapability to deal with ambiguities and calls it "sin." The term sin addresses our estrangement from God, from others, and from ourselves. This estrangement is caused by our partial knowledge and our desire toward coherency. Even if "sin" in everyday language is used for supposedly bad acts, in contemporary theology "sin" is usually translated with "estrangement."

This understanding of sin has its origin in what is usually called "the Fall" (Genesis 2-3), when Adam and Eve were kicked out of the Garden of Eden. Traditionally, the story is told as follows: Adam and Eve live in the Garden happily, in unity with God and all other creatures. They can go wherever they want to go; they can eat and drink whatever they want. In the whole Garden, there are only two trees from which they are not allowed to eat, the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil and the Tree of Life. One day, Eve is tempted by a serpent to eat from the Tree of Knowledge (as it is usually called), and thus acts against God's explicit wish. She also convinces Adam to have a bite and therefore they have to leave Paradise. The sin here is disobedience against God's command. Unfortunately, it has often led influential church fathers to dismiss women as temptresses that lead men to sin. One reason for the low number of women in church hierarchies and the fact that some denominations still forbid women from being ordained certainly lies in this interpretation of the story of the Fall.

But is this really the only way to read this story? Paul Tillich suggests another interpretation that might have more explanatory power-especially in the context of gestalt figures and our incapability to deal with ambiguities. As Tillich points out, in the Garden of Eden there was no ambiguity. Everything was in perfect unity and harmony. According to the biblical narrative, the ability to distinguish between good and evil and to make universally valid judgments is God's and God's alone. Human knowledge is always partial and incomplete; therefore, we cannot achieve the full divine understanding that would explain unexplainable phenomena and would make the world coherent. We do not have divine knowledge and therefore we are not capable of judging; we are not allowed to eat from the tree of knowledge of good and evil.

But the humans in Paradise also had no will. They didn't make decisions. They did not think, compare, categorize. When they ate the forbidden fruit, it was the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil. Before this, they did not know what was good and what was evil. They did not decide what was right or wrong. They just were. But with the fruits of the forbidden tree came the human capability to err and to make mistakes. Like a lion that kills a deer without any regret or sympathy for the killed animal, so Adam and Eve were living each day without tomorrow, without reasoning, particularly without ethical decision-making.

But if humans do not make decisions and judge and use reason, they do not use what is potentially given to them. Humans who do not try to understand themselves and the world around them, who do not try to make judgments, are in a state of what Tillich calls dreaming innocence. To actualize our potential we have to try to become like God (in the language of the story, to eat from the tree) and thus risk the close relationship with God. Since humans are in most ways like other animals, they are limited in time and space. This makes every judgment incomplete. With the act of eating from the tree, humans risk error, incomplete knowledge, and false judgments. I want to point out here that in the figurative language of the Fall, it was the woman who ate first; thus it was a woman who had the guts to enter into a state of estrangement. This presents a unique contrast to the traditional reading.

Each and every one of us makes decisions depending on our upbringing and our (largely) inherited values. None of us can make judgments that are correct in all cases. The story of the Fall tells us that it is impossible for us to only make ethical judgments that have the potential of being valid for all humans despite their circumstances. We humans can only strive toward a community in which all judgments are generally applicable and, thus, not hurtful or exclusive, but to create such a community is very, very hard. With most of our judgments comes the rejection of people who think and feel differently. In a way, one could see the reactions toward gestalt phenomena as a result of Adam and Eve's eating of the fruit of decision-making and judging.

There is also something inherently tragic about decision-making. If we say the vase-face image is just a vase, we lose the richness of the experience. Seeing things only one way removes the alternatives and thus makes the world a little more boring. Whenever we decide for something, we automatically decide against many other possibilities. If we pick one path to walk on, we decide against all the other possible paths and we usually cannot return to them. This cannot lead, however, to our avoidance of making decisions. This would put us right back into the state of dreaming innocence. Instead, we have to make decisions every day of our life and accept the inherent loss of other possibilities. Thus, sin as estrangement from ourselves, from others, and from God is a tragedy and yet also makes us the beings we are.

After Adam and Eve eat from the tree, they start to live with ambiguities and decisions about right or wrong, which are not universally valid but culturally dependent. In the biblical narrative, this is expressed in the section right after eating from the tree, when Adam and Eve look at one another and recognize their nakedness. In the state of dreaming innocence, nakedness was not shameful or evil but just was. Only with the capability for reasoning and decision-making can Adam and Eve decide that nakedness has to be covered. It is their worldview that leads to this ethical judgment; in other cultural contexts, the decision might be different. Nakedness is not just to be without clothes but to be revealed, to be uncovered. Nakedness means vulnerability. Therefore, one might say that when Adam and Eve started to judge, they were able to understand the other through empathy. At the same time, they were also able to hurt each other deeply through judgment. The clothes are not just a protection from shame but also from vulnerability and from being known fully. With judgment also comes the insight that none of us is a perfect being. If we are honest with ourselves, we will realize that each one of us can be mean and cruel. So we don't want to be fully known, and we hide ourselves in order to not be judged.

This interpretation of the Fall creates multiple layers of meaning. This story is much more complex and rich than the one of Adam and Eve's misbehavior. It provides an explanation for an inherent human dilemma. Adam and Eve want to understand the world and formulate theories about it, while at the same time they know that these theories are always limited, time dependent, and thus incomplete. It also gives an explanation for the human drive toward a whole and complete truth and why it often happens that humans take partial knowledge as absolute (they have eaten from the tree and feel like God).

St. Paul talks about our sins only if he quotes liturgy from early Christian tradition; in his own theology he always uses the singular form. For St. Paul, the term sin does not refer to specific actions but describes a general human state of being. We do not sin; we are in the state of sin. Sin describes humans as being estranged, ambiguous, torn between incoherent wishes and desires, torn between polarities and fears; sin means a life in paradoxes. Sin, therefore, is not human wrongdoing. Sin is the state of living in ambiguity that leads to incomplete knowledge and flawed judgment and, thus, to wrong or at least questionable acts. Sin is a state of being, and bad actions are a consequence of sin.

Consider, for instance, the Roman Catholic folklore of the seven deadly sins-sloth, greed, envy, gluttony, wrath, pride, and lust. They are supposed to be forbidden to restrain people and make them live in a seemingly "Christian" way. But when you take a closer look, you will see that all these sins can actually lead to estrangement-from yourself, your body, your neighbors, nature, and God. Take gluttony, for instance. Most of us indulge in gluttony every Thanksgiving and probably on Christmas as well. It feels good sometimes to be really, really full. But what is meant by gluttony is not the casual overeating on holidays, as this is fairly harmless. We humans are not very good at doing things in moderation. Many people are in danger from overeating constantly. Eating can be a cure against stress and loneliness. Several things will happen in such a case. The people who overeat will gain weight and thus challenge their health. Also, because in our society slimness is often considered beautiful, severely overweight people are often ostracized and marginalized. They sometimes concentrate more on their desire to eat than on other things. Finally, they often lose self-respect. In other words, gluttony can lead to estrangement from your body, estrangement from others, and estrangement from yourself. And many people would say that if you are estranged from all these things, you are also estranged from God. So the problem with gluttony is not that it is forbidden. Rather, the danger inherent in gluttony is that it can lead to estrangement.

Those actions that Roman Catholic folklore or any other denomination deems as "sin" are usually deeds that can lead to estrangement. The deadly sins are, in moderation, part of being human; only overindulgence will lead to estrangement, and if we are aware of this, we can avoid this estrangement more easily than we could without that insight.

© 2004 Anne Foerst, Ph.D. All rights reserved. No Part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any other information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher.

About the Author

Dr. Anne Foerst is a former research scientist at the Artificial Intelligence Laboratory at MIT, where she also founded and directed the God and Computers Project. The only robotics theologian in the country, her work has captured much media attention, including coverage in The New York Times, The Boston Globe, and Science. She is currently a visiting professor of theology and computer science at St. Bonaventure University and lives in Olean, New York.