Part II: Hal—Monstrous Machine or Sympathetic Entity?

For decades, certain sci-fi films have been used as a commentary on the implications of artificial intelligence. 2001, in my opinion, is the benchmark in exploring this concept.

Let us explore HAL 9000.

On one hand, HAL's actions throughout the film can serve as a monstrous reminder that the significance of humanity’s end game outweighs the lives of any individuals. Just as the progressive thinkers vision of progress is amorphously goalless, so too is HAL’s lack of functional composition: he has no shape, no form, no structure. There is only a gelid gaze accentuated by the hue of hazard. In this symbolic depiction, one cannot help but be reminded of G.K. Chesterton, who said, “the typical modern man…has no positive picture at all of what he is aiming at, but only a vague (and erroneous) sensation of progress.”

Yet despite an aura of unease and tension, what does the disconnection or death of HAL say about humanity’s perennial pursuit of progress? In HAL's final moments, we see the machine becomes more human than any of the characters in the film. His palpable fear and self-preservation strikes similarities with our own human condition. This concept is implicitly outlined early on, when HAL says: “I am putting myself to the fullest possible use, which is all I think that any conscious entity can ever hope to do.” The blurring of boundaries become apparent, however, when we see HAL's relationship with the crew resemble that of a good friend more so than a cold robot. He compliments Dave on his drawing, asking to bring it closer so he can observe it; he gently asks Dave if he can ask him a personal question; he raises concerns about the mission, but most importantly, he expresses fear and begs for another chance as Dave disconnects him.

Before his death, he pleads for life and mercy, seemingly confirming at least the flicker of humanity, but Dave’s is less certain. In HAL's final moments, Dave is methodical and uncaring. He says nothing to HAL, only continuing to remove memory block and after memory block. “Stop Dave. I’m afraid.” HAL feels his mind slipping, "a horrific prospect for a self-aware entity that is entirely cognitive" (Fence, 2018: 213). As more function is lost, we see HAL's speech regress, and in his final moments, he sings "Daisy Bell," the first song he ever learned, symbolically representing a child singing a placating lullaby before sleep.

Is HAL simply following his programming to the fullest extent possible, or is he more human than his status as machine suggests? HAL's anthropomorphism juxtaposed with Dave's dehumanization asks the audience whether or not HAL is a monstrous other, or an entity deserving of our sympathy.