Google-owned robotics firm Boston Dynamics is no stranger to creating robotic beasts that can do freakish feats, but their latest robotic quadruped — a 160-pound doglike machine named Spot — takes the crazy factor to an all new level with a smaller, nimbler, more-kickable form factor.
To be perfectly honest, Spot scares the hell out of me. When Elon Musk warned about the possibility of humans becoming slaves to AI, this is what I imagined — legions of weird-looking robots that can go anywhere to hunt you down and put you in your place. Spot doesn’t feature any futuristic weapons to punish his human masters, but the cybernetic canine has some serious skills when it comes to exploring difficult terrain and balancing.
If you don’t think the robot threat is real, here are six GIFs of Spot in action that might change your mind:
Spot can climb up anything
He can’t be beat in a fight
Stairs are no match for his superior dexterity
Seriously, imagine this guy hunting you in the woods
He plays well with other robot dogs too
You scared yet?
Seriously though, the technology going into Spot is absolutely incredible and could be really useful in an assistive role to humans. How Google is going to make money with these robots is still anyone’s guess, but with other robots that can run as fast as a Cheetah, they’re nearly ready to give the animal kingdom a run for its money.
Buster Hein is a freelance writer who lives in Phoenix, Arizona. Twitter: @bst3r.
7 responses to “Google’s 160-pound robot dog will scare the bejesus out of you”
You could always use your iWatch as a leash. Being dragged around by a 20lb mammal is so 19th century.
Has no-one read Fahrenheit 451?
Imagine a robotic seeing-eye ‘dog’ that actually knows the route to the shops or the library. Guided there by GPS. It stops a cross-walks and uses LIDAR to determine if it’s safe to cross. It can even carry all your weekly shopping home without complaining.
RE: “How Google is going to make money with these robots is still anyone’s guess” . . .
A) make them smaller (cheaper), b) weaponize them, c) sell them to U.S. Military. You could probably buy dozens of these for the cost of 1 human soldier.
Many years ago I read a book by Philip Jose Farmer and always wanted one of these.
It was as good a car as you could find in the realm. A Renault of the large class, it had a long boat-shaped scarlet body. There wasn’t a scratch on it. It had seats for six. And that it had the power to outrun most anything was indicated by the two extra pairs of legs sticking out from the bottom. There were twelve pairs of legs, equine in form and shod with the best steel. It was the kind of vehicle you wanted when you might have to take off across the country. Wheeled cars could go faster on the highway, but this Renault would not be daunted by water, plowed fields, or steep hillsides.
Rastignac climbed into the driver’s seat, seized the wheel and pressed his foot down on the accelerator. The nerve-spot beneath the pedal sent a message to the muscles hidden beneath the hood and the legs projecting from the body. The Renault lurched forward, steadied, and began to pick up speed. It entered a broad paved highway. Hooves drummed; sparks shot out from the steel shoes.
Rastignac shoved the accelerator to the floor. The Renault broke into a gallop. The Ford turned so that it would present its broad side. As there was a fencework of tall shrubbery growing along the boulevard, the Ford was thus able to block most of the passage.
But, just before his vehicle reached the Ford, Rastignac pressed the Jump button. Few cars had this; only sportsmen or the royalty could afford to have such a neural circuit installed. And it did not allow for gradations in leaping. It was an all-or-none reaction; the legs spurned the ground in perfect unison and with every bit of the power in them. There was no holding back.
The nose lifted, the Renault soared into the air. There was a shout, a slight swaying as the trailing hooves struck the heads of mucketeers who had been stupid enough not to duck, and the vehicle landed with a screeching lurch, upright, on the other side of the Ford. Nor did it pause.
It’s actually the Salamander from Fahrenheit 451 come to life. Feed it a little DNA and set em loose in Syria looking for IS.
awesome jogging partner! it could blast your favorite tunes and keep track of your time!