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There is the age-old paradox of technologists predicting bleak futures for mankind because of their research directions but nevertheless hurtling full steam ahead in pursuing them. Strong humanoid research could be one such example. The holy grail of robotics and artificial intelligence research is regularly perceived as aiming to understand mankind by artificially creating a similar degree of functionality and form. But what are the consequences of this pursuit?

Man and machine have been merging for a considerable time. As early as the mid 1700s, French inventor Jacque de Vaucanson's clockwork flute and tabor players provided mechanically driven functionality to human-like forms. The Hungarian Baron Wolfgang von Kempelen's amazed eighteen-century Europe with the 'Turk', a chess-playing automaton, which famously played and defeated Napoleon Bonaparte. In reality, the gadget was an elaborate trick; the cabinet's gears and machinery hid a human player. Nevertheless, people's willingness to accept what effectively was an illusion illustrates the power of perceived intelligence in machines.

But why build a humanoid robot? What if we freed the machine of the chains of mankind? What capabilities would it, should it, have? It is easy to follow the thesis that given higher resolution in robot function and form, current humanoid projects such as Honda's Asimo and Sony's SDR-4X would incorporate such facial functionality as achieved through silicon skinned robot heads. Fine-tuning the animatronics, the sensor modalities, the actuators and the aesthetics could all ultimately lead to the 'replicant' problem (Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, Philip K. Dick).

Then what... will it die if you turn it off?