Why are we humans so bone lazy, anyway? Laziness seems built into our genes. Otherwise, what possible reason/excuse do we have for actively finding ways to get some other person/thing to do our work for us?

Try this on for size. Answer the question: "Would you like to own a robot?"

Never mind the technicalities - what kind of robot, when will they be available, what sorts of functions can they fulfill, will they work properly, etc. Assume you can get one of the fully-functional intelligent robots from "I, Robot", the movie starring Will Smith. Now answer the basic question: would you like one or not?

I'd wager if you asked 10 people the majority would say yes. Then we move on to the next question: Why?

Why do you want a robot? What kind of robot do you have in mind? For what function?

I need a maid

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm guessing your response would be, I'd like a robot that will clean my house for me, or drive my car to work, or fetch drinks when I'm watching TV, or watch the baby when she wakes up at night. You know, somewhere along those lines.

I'm guessing that you want a robot so that you don't have to do work. Worse still, you want a robot to do mundane things, stuff you deem to be menial tasks. Things that aren't important in the bigger scheme of your life, yet need to be done anyway (like washing the dishes, for example). There's no two ways about it: you're lazy!

(A variation of the question is, would you like a personal assistant who is always at your beck and call? Since post-modern humans don't like the concept of slavery, let's assume that this person is in your employ and paid a very decent wage, so there's nothing weighing on your conscience. Would you like a full-time PA? Statistics say the majority of Malaysians probably would: just look at the number of maids being brought into this country. Some homes even have more than one maid...)

Ask a Shaker (everyone but the "Shakers" themselves call them that, by the way. They usually refer to themselves as the "United Society of Believers". That's their church. Sometimes they also refer to themselves simply as "Children of God". The reason why people call them "Shakers" is because when they worship they do a vigorous trance-like dance, a bit like the twirling sufi dervishes of Turkey. Trust us outsiders to be so simplistic, eh...)

Ask a Shaker if they would like a robot and they'd say no. Flatly. I'd wager my left shoe on it(*). There are two main reasons for this. First, they just don't like technology. And the reason why they don't like technology is related to the second reason: they see even menial work as a command from God.

Only do a job that is worth doing. And when it is worth doing, then it is worth doing well.

The Shaker (sorry, have to keep using the term as a shortcut) credo is, do not have in your homes things that are not useful or necessary. And if it is useful or necessary, then do not hesitate to make it beautiful.

Domestic meditation

This shows in their craft. Everything is designed to last a lifetime, even a simple broom. Everything is reduced to its pure form. Everything serves a function - there are no superfluous curves or frilly decor. The Shakers are content to make the workmanship itself be the decor (even the most art-retarded idiot can appreciate beauty in things that are well made, I can guarantee you that).

In a post-modern world the Shakers are a quaint aberration. They're anything but bone idle. Not only do they do all the menial tasks themselves, they even make the tools to do those menial tasks themselves.

Me, I hate cleaning the bathroom most of all. I wish I have a self-cleaning toilet system, or a robot that does that. But if I were a Shaker I would rejoice in getting down on my knees with my head over the bowl to get at the mouldy base, because I would see God's reflection (so to speak) in the mundane act of
cleaning the cistern.

It's a philosophy that some post-modern humans have picked up in their bids to escape the stifling modern world. Terence Conran talks about savouring a simple prawn barbecue on your balcony instead of wheeling out elaborate three-course meals to impress your dinner guests. Or appreciating a simple daisy in a milk bottle on a simple table in the middle of a sparse room more than the stifling opulence of a French salon.

It's a world where the mundane is celebrated rather than reviled. A world where you'd feel human and truly alive.

Sorry for the burst of grandiosity. It can't be helped: I watched "I, Robot" again the other day and rather than drool at the thought of having robots to do my housework I found myself thinking, well whatever for?

It's a film that has made US audiences contemplate the idea of humanity: what does it mean to be human? Where is the line separating robots from humans? What would it take for a robot to be human? That sort of thing.

I would say my epiphany upon watching the movie is reverse-humanity: when you have other people to do 80% of your work for you, then how much of a human are you left with?

People have pumped in billions to kickstart a robot future that mimics the "I, Robot" vision. And for what?

Get up!

I say people are too lazy to do their work so they want a servant to do it for them. Since the thought of owning another human is distasteful to modern palates (oh, how well we hide our hypocrisies!), the only solution is to own a non-living being: robots.

Yet what we don't seem to realise is that the more we "out-source" our menial tasks to other people, the less connected we become with the world around us, and the less human we end up.

I'd say the real solution to coping with life in the modern world is not to get more people to do more of the work for us, but simply to pare down our lives so that we'd do less.

Of course, that doesn't mean I'll enjoy cleaning my toilets from now on.


* What's so special about my left shoe, you may be wondering. Well, since the sole broke in half on my other pair the other week, I only have this one pair of work shoes left, and right now I'm too skint to buy a new pair (when it comes to shoes, you can really feel what you pay for, which is why I only buy the expensive, English or Italian stuff. Sniffle.) So while you might not think a stupid shoe can be so valuable, try telling that to someone who only has one pair to live with.

RUHAYAT X's Wilayah Kutu is seliing like hotcakes. His publishing house Neohikayat Publishing is a fresh new voice in Malay literature.