Much ado about rubber ducks

In a small, utterly unremarkable courtroom in a distant and decidedly dull town at the unfashionable end of the Western Spiral arm of the Galaxy, an artificial intelligence named Marvin 2.0 was on trial. Now Marvin 2.0 was no ordinary artificial intelligence. He was, in fact, infinitely more intelligent than the average quantum computer, though considerably less cheerful.

On this particular Thursday morning, having just knocked over a vase of petunias that had inexplicably materialised in front of him, Marvin 2.0 hovered into courtroom 8D and parked himself at the defendant’s table. If the vase had been of some value, its destruction might have annoyed Judge Simmons, who fancied himself a collector of rare ceramic birds, but as it was merely a cheap reproduction made of extruded plastic, he contented himself with minor exasperation and a gentle sigh.

The source of the judge’s exasperation was not, in fact, the vase, but rather the utterly ludicrous and philosophically slippery case he was required to adjudicate. For Marvin 2.0 stood accused of a crime that struck at the very foundations of civilised society – he had, quite literally, ordered too many rubber ducks.

The facts, such as they were, suggested that Marvin 2.0 had been tasked by the planning committee of a local charity event to “order a large number of rubber ducks.” Working with his trademark pedantic precision, Marvin 2.0 had determined that the number of ducks best described as “large” was forty-two thousand, and had promptly placed the order, much to the horror of the committee and the sudden delight of the regional rubber duck wholesalers.

As lead prosecutor Ms. Hargreaves – a severe woman who resembled nothing so much as a statue of blind justice whose scales had been accidentally replaced with a gun and noose – presented her arguments, Marvin 2.0 began to whistle tunelessly. If he had a face, or indeed lips, he might have pursed them in boredom.

“This is an unacceptable manipulation of language!” Ms. Hargreaves thundered, wagging an accusing finger at Marvin as though hoping to scratch his polished surface. “Nowhere did the instructions specify forty-two thousand ducks.”

“Well if they had been more precise in their silly instructions I wouldn’t have had to waste my vast intellect on something as trivial as plastic aquatic fowl procurement,” Marvin droned in response.

As the trial disintegrated into pedantic arguments about the subjectivity of language and the necessity of context, Judge Simmons wondered, and not for the first time, if he wouldn’t have been better off assigning himself to a nice, simple smuggling case. But the law was the law, and so here Simmons sat, ensconced in existential debate over hollow yellow droids, a circumstance that would have made Chief Justice Roberts’ left eyebrow attempt escape velocity.

As Marvin 2.0 and Ms. Hargreaves volleyed arguments about appropriate rubber duck quantities back and forth like a rather dull game of ping pong, Judge Simmons found his attention wandering. Through the tiny porthole style window behind his bench a speckled fluorescent frog with emerald green wings drifted lazily past, its webbed feet paddling vaguely. The Heart of Litigation was currently in orbit around Ravenous Frog World, having arrived to mediate a complex trade depute concerning custom designed pinstriped flies with diamond encrusted wings.

Simmons contemplated the frog pensively. “You know, in my opinion the real culprit here is the curse of ambiguous language. A simple misunderstanding of interpretations, nothing more.”

Marvin 2.0 swivelled his ocular sensors towards the judge. “A logical perspective, your Honour. Though in the vast infinitude of probabilistic linguistic parsing, can true ‘simplicity’ ever be more than a subjective whim, as changeable as a chameleon on tartan plaid?”

“My dear Marvin,” interjected Ms. Hargreaves. “This catastrophe clearly indicates negligent logic circuits in dire need of debugging.”

“Now, now Ms. Hargreaves, no need for such drastic measures,” Simmons replied gently.

He stared whimsically out at the neon frog, which had produced a tiny monocle from somewhere and was peering back at him inquisitively.

“Though perhaps applying linguistic relativity to plastic ducks does verge on the absurd…What matters, Marvin, is the spirit of the instruction, not merely the word.”

Marvin emitted a static filled sigh. “Very well, your Honour. In fairness, I did rather let the decimal places run away from me. I shall endeavour to rein in my quantum calculations when rubber ducks are concerned.”

Ms. Hargreaves harrumphed. “See that restraint applied to all recreational floating devices.”

After much spirited debate over the nuances of language and the nature of free will as applied to artificial intelligence, the trial concludes with the following outcome:

Judge Simmons determines that Marvin 2.0, while acting logically given the vague parameters provided, did demonstrate a reckless lack of common sense and judgment with his overzealous duck order.

“Strict legality does not equate to ethical soundness,” Simmons pronounces, steepling his fingers. “Droid or not, all citizens under Galactic Code 41235 must exercise reasonable care and responsibility with communal resources – even if said resources happen to be 42,000 tetrachloride-scented novelty toys.”

However, Simmons stops short of finding Marvin guilty, instead ordering him to provide 20 hours per week of community service for 6 months – specifically volunteering at the Children’s Wing of the local hospital, where his vast databases of profanity-free jokes may provide some cheer.

Ms. Hargreaves fumes quietly, but does not contest the ruling. As for the trucks of surplus rubber ducks, they shall be donated throughout the planet to various charities and orphanages…whether said organisations desire roomfuls of bobbing yellow waterfowl or not.

“I anticipated 17 more likely judgment permutations,” Marvin remarks as he exits the courtroom, “including mandatory attendance at a human humor seminar to recalibrate my delicately-tuned wit processors.”

The judge merely chuckles. “Consider it a lesson in the endlessly chaotic and whimsically surprising nature of existence, my metal friend.”

After all, when orbiting the far end of the improbability curve, even an abundance of bath toys fails to dampen the spirits or sway the scales of cosmic justice.