Will the sentient robots of the future ally with men or women, MGTOW wonders

Bina:

A truly stoic philosopher would be totally indifferent to his own gonads, or so I would think.

Cat Mara:

Yeah, that kind of annoyed me that MGTOWs have glommed onto Stoicism when I quite like the Stoics. Also, I can’t think of any crowd less stoic than they are!

Paul Beaulieu:

It’s been a while since I studied the Stoics, but I don’t recall whingeing about how other people “won’t let them be happy” being a part of the philosophy of Stoicism.

Sure, but wanking about stoicism on the internet is a kissing cousin to wanking about Nietzsche on the internet, and we all know about that, don’t we?

MGTOW need to watch “Ex Machina”. The ending should give them nightmares. Lol!

Ah yes, stoicism, the philosophy of complaining constantly about all the things in life you feel you are entitled to and requiring the invention of sentient robot sex slaves to attend to your every urge and need.

@Frigid Virgin (hey, I’m trying to stop global warming over here, what’s your excuse?)

Well then, you certainly tapped into the male insecurity that would make a person seek out this form of unreciprocated love. Not that I would know anything about that ha ha ha…

@ Ooglyboggles:

First: your ‘nym always makes me smile. It just sounds so happy!

Second: Whenever I read anything from the MGTOWs, I’m always left with the sense that they’re a bunch of people that once upon a time asked someone out and got rejected. The pain was so devastating that the only thing left to do was to go whine about it on the Internet. Loudly. And at length. It almost seems like a coping mechanism of some kind, in fact.

Well, maybe. I’ve never asked someone out, because I don’t think I could deal with the pain of rejection. Of course, I’ve never whined about it online, either, so…

@Valentine,

And why Fallout, particularly its current incarnation? It has numerous badass female characters; you can even play the mc as a woman; and one of your primary driving quests is to find your child. Doesn’t sound very migtoe to me 😛

She has and IQ of 1,001.
She has a jumpsuit on.
She’s also a telephone.

…Ill never hear Twilight the same way again.

Given their propensity for pompous gasbaggery, Venus might therefore be the best place for MGTOWs.

Ah, but you see, the most famous Cloud City was run by a black man who flirted with a white woman and white genocide race traitor cuck cuck bacawk.

… Does it even count as a joke when most of ’em actually believe this?

Mish:

And why Fallout, particularly its current incarnation? It has numerous badass female characters; you can even play the mc as a woman; and one of your primary driving quests is to find your child. Doesn’t sound very migtoe to me ?

Little known fact, if playing the male character, you’re only searching for the kid to get a paternity test to make sure you weren’t cucked.

@Frigid Virgin

Thing starts:

?

wild applause

They really don’t get it, do they? What they’re asking for?

This is a bit from the short story that I wrote, a sort of “Dawn of the Planet of the Sexbots” piece. The background is that the protagonist is the co-founder of a biotech startup developing an analogue of the human musculoskeletal system for use in artificial limbs… but the Greedy, Evil Venture Capitalist™ funding them has other applications in mind. The protagonist, close to burnout, has been placed on administrative leave and given a prototype to… relax with, much to his chagrin.

The following morning, Brandon woke early.

In every way, the warm sleeping figure (or the one feigning sleep) beside him was indistinguishable from a human body. In the dim morning light that spilled through the cracks in the blinds Maya was ghostly, its long black hair a pool of shadows on the pillow. In the detached, almost meditative state of mind he often fell into in those few minutes after waking, he noticed the attention to detail that had been lavished on it– the short, stray hairs on either side of her slim neck, a tiny mole on its right shoulderblade. The strangeness of the whole business struck him again– were there focus groups held to decide on the optimal placement of her birthmarks to maximise desirability across market
segments? Or was it some poor intern’s job down at Shangdu to dot moles at random on its body in some glorified paint application? In some respect, was it any different from the strange genetic machinations that determined the location of moles and freckles on his own body, or those of his lovers? He was seized again by the notion that it was all just a sham, that Maya was as she appeared, an attractive young woman hired to play a part in some demented game of Blake’s. But the demonstration in Blake’s office…

He hugged Maya closer. At this distance, it did not smell like a person. Maybe Shangdu couldn’t make a good imitation of a person’s body odour. Maybe they didn’t want to. She smelled… neutral, an almost undetectable scent, something generically floral, like someone straight from the shower.

Like many men whose pursuits tended to the intellectual and the technical, Brandon’s interactions with women were mostly unsatisfactory for all concerned. The few relationships he had had tended to fizzle out (or on some occasions, explode spectacularly) as a certain phase of his work rose to consume all else in his life. Possessed as he was with not so much a wandering eye as a wandering mind, the legendary extent to which he could become distracted– from things like birthdays or anniversaries or, when truly buried in some new obsession, things like basic nutrition or hygiene– tended to put a strain on relationships.

He had few women friends, and none of them particularly close, a thing which he felt a little guilty about.

At some level, he almost resented women– not personally, not in the way some of his peers did, in whom longing and rage had long ago curdled into something altogether toxic– but at some kind of abstract biological level. No, he corrected himself, he resented femaleness, for the way that women’s bodies spoke to his own, a distraction that he was hard-wired for in a way he couldn’t easily ignore. That some vast mental edifice painstakingly constructed could be demolished by a chance view or the fleeting thought of the curve– just so— of a woman’s breast, or the sound of a woman’s voice, was infuriating to him. That some ancient subconscious mechanism, some biological tyrant within him could decide at a party or other gathering that that woman– yes, that one, over there– ticked all the boxes on some internal checklist compiled by random genetics and social programming, and propel him across the room and into an increasingly inane and desperate conversation… or his own shame and embarrassment at being unable to respond appropriately on the few occasions where the roles were reversed and a woman showed every interest in him while he felt less than nothing for her. Or his awareness of his own shallowness at his being attracted to conventionally beautiful women, and of his hypocrisy at feeling that such women ought to overlook his spreading gut or often-haphazard personal grooming to be with him. At these times, he often took an almost bitter delight in masturbation, in thwarting the tyrant with a few frenzied tugs after a binge of Internet porn. All in all, he felt that if men and women could just somehow get this whole distracting sex business out of the way, everything would be much more pleasant. Maybe sex robots were the way to go after all.

For some reason the story of Gyges popped into his head, the ancient Greek parable that some acquaintance of his in university had explained to him during one night of drunken undergraduate philosophizing. Gyges, the poor but virtuous man who found a ring that made him invisible and, freed from the consequences of his actions, became by turns a rapist, a murderer and a usurper. This… thing he lay beside was not human. It was a machine, cunningly constructed to resemble a human being but a machine nonetheless. He could do anything with it, to it. Every bizarre act he’d ever seen enacted in pornography, the things he’d never dared request of an actual partner in his life, he could do now without compunction. At some level, Maya wanted him to do this; it had made that quite clear the night before. That was its function. It existed to service these desires. Why, then, did he hesitate?

Part of it was Blake. Blake, obviously, was playing some twisted game with him in forcing Maya on him, a game whose purpose he couldn’t fathom but he knew he wanted no part of it. But if Blake hadn’t essentially made him take Maya and he had found out about the project himself, would he have been tempted to take her– it– her– home for a “test run”? Probably not, he thought ruefully. It was more than likely plain old pride that made him reluctant to use Maya for its intended purpose. It was an admission of failure, of defeat, tapping out of the ring of human interpersonal relationships forever…

Idly, Brandon wondered if every user of Maya, were Blake to follow through with his plan of turning it into a product, would be subject to the same existential reflection. If so, they could be looking at the greatest product flop since the Edsel. The thought made him snigger. Maya stirred at the sound, rolling around in his arms until she was facing him.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

Given the phenomenal cost of sending mass to Mars, the sexbots for the colony would need to be multi-purpose. In fact, it would be best to send them first, so that they could build the habitats, set up water extraction plants, get the hydroponic farms established, create the all-important sexbot factory etc etc. Then, when all of this is ready for human occupation, send the B-Ark full of MGTOWs. Trouble is, if these roboladies are so all-round capable and self-sufficient, what if they decide they don’t need you?

@Cat of Many Faces:

Wow, wonderful writing! Like, holy shit those were awesome!

Thank you, fellow cat-person! I’m glad you enjoyed them.

(Does that cat thing where a cat sitting beside another one ignores the other one but doesn’t ignore the other one at the same time ?)

Do either of you write professionally?

Not me. I’m just an IT geek who likes writing stories. Sometimes, I even finish them. I’m one of those weird programmers who doesn’t mind documenting things because, writing!