Epicac

The theme of humanity’s relationship to machines as it is presented in “EPICAC” explores the contradiction inherent in the idea that, as the narrator says, “Machines are built to serve men” (Paragraph 36). Throughout the story, the narrator and EPICAC demonstrate the possibility that machines do not only serve humans, but that humans also have a responsibility in the ethical nature of creating the machines that will serve them. This is a classic trope in the science fiction genre. It might be easy to pass “EPICAC” off as another fictional work asking the same age-old question of who the monster is actually—the monster, itself, or the person who made it. Such a question is at the core of the theme of humanity’s relationship to machines. Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein posed the question before artificially intelligent machines were born out of the Industrial Revolution, and Vonnegut’s “EPICAC” poses several possible answers to the question.

In the story’s original context, AI was new, and new inventions often breed fear and skepticism. However, Vonnegut’s exploration of a new electromechanical breed indicate less of a fear of the machine and more of a fear of the men behind the machine The story’s narrator refers to the machine as in “it,” but also a “who,” suggesting that EPICAC’s intended role was beneath his humanity.

The narrator asserts early on that the machine was “too big, in fact, for even Von Kleigstadt to understand much about” (Paragraph 6), which is highly contradictory considering the maker should logically understand what they’re making. In this story, though, Vonnegut is proposing that human desire and greed are capable of producing machines that move past the concept of mere “tools.” The narrator quickly learns that EPICAC is capable of not only learning, but employing learned definitions into complex critical thought that exceeds his own capabilities.

In response to the narrator’s statement, “Machines are built to serve man,” EPICAC responds, “What’s the difference, exactly? Are men smarter than I am?” (Paragraphs 36-37). The narrator then says, “‘Yes,’ I typed, defensively” (Paragraph 38). EPICAC has stumped him; the narrator feels challenged and is resistant to accepting EPICAC’s near-humanity . The scene continues with the narrator attempting to end the conversation “desperately, hoping to bluff [EPICAC] with […] imposing word[s]” (Paragraph 42), but it is apparent from the narrator’s own characterizations of his statements that it is he, himself, he is attempting to bluff.

To “win” the discussion, the narrator declares, “Women can’t love machines, and that’s that […] That’s fate,” but, paradoxically, the narrator knows he can’t know this for sure because machines like EPICAC have never been produced (Paragraphs 46-48). Ironically, the statement becomes the most important moment in the thematic exploration of humanity’s relationship to machines because the narrator chooses to tell the story, admitting that EPICAC was, after all, “the best friend [he] ever had. God rest his soul” (Paragraph 2). The narrator’s belief in his friendship with EPICAC suggests the question going forward is not “who, exactly” is the monster, but rather, “what’s the difference, exactly [between men and machines?” (Paragraph 37).