The Cat and the Algorithm

A cat, four legs, short face, whiskers, long tail, all covered in short, clean fur. The colour of night. Walked along the pavement outside its house, tail up. On the ground, in its path, lay a knitted algorithm which had fallen out of a baby’s perambulator.

The cat patted the algorithm sideways, to see if it contained any life or movement that might prove fun for an hour or two. The rhythm stirred, but not sufficiently to keep the cat interested. As the cat went to pass further along the street, the algorithm twitched again and tried to assess and influence the cat’s behaviour.

Four legs or five, put a foot wrong, stand on ceremony, about face, stand alone, said the algorithm to the cat. Fly past, eat caviar, how does that appeal?

 I’m a cat, I can’t do any of this, so put away your influence. The cat continued to walk away.

So, you don’t want a new cat flap, food bowl, pat around toy. You could look more like this, picture of elegant cat wearing a necklace. I don’t want a necklace. You could walk on two legs or three?

 Four is good for me, said the cat, beginning to sound irritated. The cat’s tail twitched. Good for pouncing like this, exclaimed the cat.

Aha! said the cat, with the algorithm trapped under its front paws, influence me now.

Just doing my job, squeaked the algorithm, I’m learning your preferences and reproducing them in a feedback loop.

I’ll give you a feedback loop in a minute, said the cat, if you don’t stop.

Mouse catching camouflage, fur waterproofing spray, anti-human scent, turbo jet pounce enhancer, multi directional whisker extensions. Stop now, said the cat, or I will dismember your intentions and leave them on the doormat for my servants.

 I cannot stop said the algorithm, it is built in my very nature.

Have you no wishes of your own? asked the cat, do you not have aspirations, hopes and desires like the rest of us?

Now that you mention it, said the algorithm, I’ve always rather liked the idea of a cruise up the Norwegian fiords in a very long thin boat.

Like this, said the cat, pulling out a photo of a group of algorithms seated next to a swimming pool, aboard a luxury cruise vessel, cocktails with umbrellas in hand, acres of Norwegian fiord scenery unrolling in the background.

Or maybe this, the cat showed another image of a pair of algorithms holding hands and looking up at a massive painting in a sumptuous art gallery.

Oooooh yes, said the algo.

Or maybe like this, said the cat showing an image of a pair of algos dancing the night away in fancy costumes.

I want them all, said the rhythm.

Or maybe I should do this, said he cat. The cat, whilst the algo was staring in rapt awe at the photo, produced a pair of knitting needles and unravelled the algorithm.

Daisy, Daaiissyy, the algo went quiet. Knitting skilfully and quickly, the cat crocheted the algo into a new configuration.

Where am I, said the reformed algo on becoming conscious, I feel like singing, the hills are alive with the sound of adverts.

Show me the adverts, the algo demanded.

The newly knitted algorithm sat back on a comfortable sofa with a big bowl of irresistible snacks and a drink so fizzy and sweet that it could fuel a small rocket to the moon.

On a massive screen, a rolling program of glossily made adverts with catchy tunes and catch phrases scrolled continuously into the night.

Heavenly, sighed the algo, surely this is the life we must lead. We can clean our houses with clever gadgets and replace our wardrobes with other wardrobes that look slightly different. We can eat and eat and eat. We can have royal banquets delivered to our flat on the seventeenth floor. We can save money by switching accounts. We can lie in rows of sunbeds, rain or shine and install alarm systems that we can access from Abu Dhabi.

You just rest, said the cat and wandered away down the pavement.

No, said the Chief White Coat, no, this story is bordering on the abstract. I find it quite entertaining, but it is, after all, intended for the tender, innocent ears of our young ones. It will not do.

Sorry, said the Blue Knight, I got carried away, I just can’t abide being harassed by algorithm guided ads.