An Old Solution, Revisited

“And as the defense has failed to disprove our statements, the jury can see that the defendant is guilty of murder. With the evidence as presented and the argument unrefuted, you have no logical choice but to convict.”

“Thank you, R. More,” said Judge Bloom without looking up from her papers. She could always tell when the lawyer concluded, and there was no point in watching them speak. “If R. Marshall would like to give the defense's closing statement.”

R. More turned on the spot and walked methodically back to the desk apportioned for it. Upon reaching it R. More remained standing. There wasn't much of a need for the desk, not as there was eighty years ago. Occasionally the lawyer might need to provide a visual aid for the jury, but never did R. More refer to notes, or require any sort of memory assistance during a trial.

Now R. Marshall was moving toward the same point upon which R. More had stood. R. More did not notice R. Marshall pass, nor take any notice, until R. Marshall began to speak, at which moment R. More became attentive.

From Judge Bloom's seat, she listened with a weary smile as she contemplated the jury's likely decision. She had no interest in R. Marshall's speech, just the outcome. She had been hearing the same rendition for her entire thirty two year career, and whispered it along with the lawyer. The outline of the speech had been memorized long ago, and with enough experience, she was able to insert the details as they pertained to each specific case. With her lips moving silently, she observed the faces of the jury, and understood their confusion and ennui. They had seen to many ancient courtroom dramas. They should be thankful that this was a once in a lifetime experience, and not their daily work.

Not that she was complaining. From everything she had seen of pre-2050 law, the inclusion of robotics in the courtroom had transformed it from a charade of verbal trickery and deceit into a haven of reason, logic, and a resulting justice. As R. Marshall approached the conclusion she straightened and focused her attention on the matter, establishing her judicial elan.

R. Marshall finished without any crescendoing defense. Rather, its dull lidless eyes stared blankly at the middle of the jury box, and its lifeless monotonous voice finished the speech as precisely and tediously as if rendered by a grammarian. Then it retreated back to its desk, placing its metallic grey legs firmly and loudly upon the floor with each step.

….

“R. More isn't keeping up with the competition. He loses to R. Marshall forty-seven to fifty-three nationally, and is only convincing juries half of the time against inferior local models.”

Mr. Johnson glowered at the other twenty suited lawyers of Johnson and Johnson, and he permeated wrath, in a way that R. More could not even hope to achieve.

“Well, sir, there aren't many options available to us," said Eric, "Our software engineers think we're at a dead end with More. The reward on investment by improving the current model is minimal. They recommend starting from scratch, rebuilding the entire program: software and hardware. The only problem is, a rebuilt R. More, or as it's been nicknamed, Moore, won't be ready for three years.”

“By then we'll have forfeited our national reputation.”

The senior management of the elite, prestigious law firm considered this problem.  Though no one moved, and no one knew it, they became divided into three factions.  The first were the glowerers; those who could only contemplate their anger at the failure of others.  More productive were the thinkers, who, in spite of the uncomfortable room and the disturbingly grim faces of their coworkers, tried to imagine a solution.  Perhaps the last third were in need of compassion, for they desired a solution, yet surrounded by those who knew they were not at fault, this final group felt compelled to admit their guilt.  They waited anxiously for their dismissal. 

Into the silence walked an R. More and it proceeded to clunk across the room until it handed a paper to Mr. Johnson. He seemed disturbed by the note and spoke to the robot, his emotion palpable.

Watching from the far end of the table, not sitting but standing uncomfortably in a corner, Jessie watched the conversation. Since the beginning she had set her brain to finding a solution, but not being an engineer she couldn't imagine one. But the interaction between Mr. Johnson and R. More diverted her attention.

R. More knew more than anyone in the company about facts, figures, and the law. She knew this. It could assemble arguments, combing the knowledge of facts and indisputable logic. Though it took her a moment, she admitted it might even supersede Mr. Johnson in many areas of law. But it couldn't convince him! In spite of its superior skill he remained unaffected by its argument. That was the problem. No. It wasn't the specific problem. R. Marshall is more convincing, but its not either. They have no personality, they can't judge the jury and tailor arguments to them. They can't emphasize the important facts, nor empathize with the emotions of the jury.

“Sir,” she said, and all eyes turned to her. “I believe we need a lawyer to communicate and connect with a jury. We've been appealing to their logic and reason, but people are more likely to be convinced by emotion. Clearly R. More is not able to do this.”

“And what could?” said Johnson. He spoke at the engineers, but Jessie answered.

“The laws prohibit robots from imitating people, but at the same time they need to be a simulacrum of humanity. They must walk upon two legs, and have two eyes, arms, and so forth, but it must be impossible to mistake one for the other. Their eye must be blank, and their voice unmistakably that of a robot.”

“Then there's nothing to be done. And even if a solution exists, it would take years to develop. Your idea seems exactly what was recommended. Rebuilding from scratch.”

Dismissing her he turned back to the table.

“There is a solution. It hasn't been implemented in the last eighty years or so.”

“Yes?”

“What if we used people?”

“What?”

“What if, like long ago, lawyers worked in the courtroom, instead of advising engineers on designing robots to act like lawyers?”

“That's impossible. It will never work.”

“I think I'll try it,” she said aloud to no one in particular. Walking out the door she took out her phone and started to call in favors. She was going to need all the help she could get.