The Senior Common Room was unusually tranquil.
Professor Quillibrace had nearly finished his tea before the inevitable interruption arrived.
Mr Blottisham entered carrying two umbrellas.
Professor Quillibrace looked at them.
"No."
"I thought one might be useful."
"For whom?"
"The machine."
Professor Quillibrace removed his spectacles.
"It isn't raining."
"Not here."
Miss Stray entered.
She regarded the umbrellas with mild curiosity.
"I think I know."
Professor Quillibrace looked resigned.
"Do tell."
"Artificial empathy."
Blottisham beamed.
"Exactly!"
Professor Quillibrace sighed.
"The umbrellas are because..."
"If empathy means sharing another person's feelings..."
"Yes?"
"...and someone is having a miserable day..."
"...it seemed polite for the machine to be miserable too."
A long silence.
Miss Stray quietly sat down.
"I think..."
she said,
"...that is simultaneously absurd..."
"...and rather profound."
Professor Quillibrace nodded.
"As is so often the case."
Blottisham opened his notebook.
"I've been reading that machines are becoming increasingly empathetic."
Professor Quillibrace folded his hands.
"So I gather."
"I wished to know..."
"...what exactly they were becoming."
Professor Quillibrace smiled.
"A sensible ambition."
Possibility One
"Empathy means recognising another person's emotions."
Professor Quillibrace nodded.
"One possible meaning."
"So if I notice you're unhappy..."
"...I have empathy?"
"Perhaps."
Miss Stray smiled.
"Or perhaps you merely have good eyesight."
Blottisham wrote this down.
Observation is not necessarily empathy.
Possibility Two
"Empathy means feeling what another person feels."
Professor Quillibrace leaned back.
"Another possibility."
Blottisham looked puzzled.
"But if you have a headache..."
"...must I also have one?"
"No."
"If you're anxious..."
"...must I become anxious?"
"No."
"So what exactly is shared?"
The room became quietly thoughtful.
Miss Stray stirred her tea.
"I wonder whether..."
"...we speak as though feelings could simply be transferred..."
"...like umbrellas."
Blottisham looked down at the two umbrellas.
"I was beginning to suspect that."
Professor Quillibrace smiled.
"The metaphor has quietly been doing our thinking."
The fire crackled gently.
Blottisham continued.
Possibility Three
"Empathy means responding appropriately."
Professor Quillibrace nodded.
"Closer."
"So if someone is grieving..."
"...I do not tell them a joke."
"Generally not."
"And if someone is delighted..."
"...I do not offer condolences."
"An excellent beginning."
Miss Stray laughed.
"It would improve a surprising number of conversations."
Blottisham looked thoughtful.
"So perhaps empathy..."
"...is less about feeling the same thing..."
"...and more about understanding..."
"...what this feeling means..."
"...for this person."
Professor Quillibrace looked genuinely pleased.
"I believe..."
"...that distinction deserves another cup of tea."
They refilled their cups.
Outside, the rain had begun quite unexpectedly.
Blottisham looked at the umbrellas.
"I've another difficulty."
Professor Quillibrace nodded.
"I imagined as much."
"If a machine recognises that I'm sad..."
"Yes?"
"...and says exactly the words I need to hear..."
"Yes?"
"...has it understood me?"
Silence.
Miss Stray looked out at the rain.
"I don't know."
Professor Quillibrace smiled.
"Nor do philosophers."
Blottisham looked surprised.
"Really?"
"Really."
"But surely..."
"...there must be an answer."
Professor Quillibrace considered.
"There are many."
"And they disagree."
Miss Stray laughed.
"A concise history of philosophy."
The conversation wandered.
Eventually Blottisham spoke again.
"I've noticed something curious."
Professor Quillibrace waited.
"When my oldest friend asks..."
"'How are you?'"
"...it somehow feels different..."
"...from when the supermarket asks."
Miss Stray smiled.
"It does."
"Even if they use exactly the same words."
Professor Quillibrace nodded.
"What has changed?"
Blottisham frowned.
"The relationship."
Professor Quillibrace looked quietly delighted.
"Exactly."
"So perhaps..."
"...empathy is not only something one says."
"No."
"It is also something one inhabits."
Miss Stray nodded.
"A relationship has a history."
"It remembers."
"It anticipates."
"It grows."
The room became still.
Blottisham looked at his notebook.
"So when people ask..."
"'Can a machine be empathetic?'"
"...perhaps they are asking several questions at once."
Professor Quillibrace smiled.
"Precisely."
"Can it recognise emotion?"
"Can it predict appropriate responses?"
"Can it understand another's circumstances?"
"Can it care?"
"Can it share a life?"
Miss Stray added softly,
"And those are not the same question."
The college clock struck four.
Blottisham picked up one of the umbrellas.
"I don't think the machine needs this."
Professor Quillibrace smiled.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because umbrellas protect one from rain."
"Yes?"
"They do not create understanding."
Blottisham nodded slowly.
"I've one final question."
Professor Quillibrace laughed.
"I should have expected no less."
"If empathy means entering another person's world..."
"Yes?"
"...does that require..."
"...having a world of one's own?"
The room fell completely silent.
Miss Stray looked at Professor Quillibrace.
He remained thoughtful for a very long time.
Finally he said,
"My dear Blottisham..."
"...I suspect that question..."
"...will keep philosophers employed for another century."
They gathered their books.
The umbrellas remained by the fireplace.
One for the rain.
One for a metaphor that had served its purpose.
As they stepped outside, the drizzle had eased.
Blottisham looked up at the clearing sky.
"Professor?"
"Yes?"
"If empathy isn't merely sharing feelings..."
"...what is it?"
Professor Quillibrace smiled.
"I rather think..."
"...it begins..."
"...by asking that question."
The three walked slowly across the quadrangle.
Not because they had reached the answer.
But because they had learned that understanding another person is less like borrowing an umbrella...
...and more like learning to walk beside them in the rain.
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