Spurred by a movie trailer, I recently reread Isaac Asimov’s I, Robot. The collection of stories follows humankind as it grows dependent on robot utility. (The book is closer to Columbo with robots than Men In Black with robots, and appears to have fewer things exploding, but that’s for another post.)

The book stands as a clear explanation of irrational fear of machine culture. It reminded me of my checking account.

Most every first-world citizen experiences modern electronic banking. Take a plastic card to a hole in a wall and get currency. Take the same plastic card to a supermarket, and go home with groceries.

Workers quickly get used to directly-deposited paychecks and electronic bill payment.

This is what circuit-brains are for: to make everyday tasks easier so we can concentrate on the big ideas (like making more computers…).

Yet, I haven’t put my checking account entirely in the automaton’s control. I try to explain it with human failings - I want to control when bills are paid, or I don’t trust them to have account access.

But deep down I know that the computers balance my checkbook better than I ever could, and the fear of human fraud is slim.

For example, take bill payments. I trust the Department of Education to take student loan payments from my account. I trust the insurance company to deduct auto insurance payments. I prefer to control when I make payments on cellular phone or cable service, even though I could have these transactions handled without my interference.

Why the difference? Am I less prone to fraud if the federal government has my account numbers, but not Cingular? I doubt it.

I think I’m, naturally, a bit uncomfortable with the deus ex machina. I distrust the First Law of Robotics: A robot may not injure a human being, or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. Surely a computer wouldn’t expose me to identity theft.

Of course, our machines don’t have consciousness (yet). But programmers don’t build malice into them either. And I can just about guarantee that the servers on which my checking account reside won’t develop subtle strategies against my financial success.

So, how does one learn to stop worrying and love the machine? As the book suggests, I think it’s inevitable, and will happen without humans being fully conscious of the trend.

Don’t worry; The computers know what’s best. And they’ll steer us in that direction without letting on, so as not to alarm us by letting humans know they really are superior.

Millionaire Jack Ryan dropped out of the race for Peter Fitzgerald’s Illinois Senate seat on Friday. Ryan, a Republican and self-styled “fresh face” in Illinois politics, succumbed to a firestorm stemming from his divorce with actress Jeri Ryan.

The, um, unsavory allegations involved sketchy clubs in which most politicians would rather not appear. The Chicago Tribune and WLS, a TV station in Chicago, sued for the records’ release in California, the state in which the Ryans filed for divorce.

Jack Ryan, his ex-wife stated in the unsealed court papers, took the actress to sex clubs, and even tried to convince her to have exhibitory sex.

The documents led to his campaign’s undoing, after he had told party higher-ups that the documents’ contents were nothing to worry about.

Did the media do the right thing? That’s a tough call; it probably depends on with whom you speak.

For context, take a look at this story. District Judge Donald Thompson, who presides in Oklahoma, stands accused of allegations that are, arguably, equally embarrassing. A court reporter and other witnesses claim Thompson masturbated using a penis pump while on the bench.

Both cases center on sex. The material of both is usually relegated to snickers and whispers - except in cases that involve prominent public figures.

In the Ryans’ case, though the events are said to have happened in public, the only record of them appears in divorce papers. Those touched by divorce know that it can flare tempers on both sides. I’m not saying that Jeri Ryan lied in the divorce proceedings. But divorce is an ugly end to the life shared by two people, and couples going through divorce do not behave with broadcast public consumption in mind. Nor should we expect them to.

In Thompson’s example, several witnesses, including his secretary and a court reporter (both fired by Thompson after cooperating with the investigation into his behavior), attest to the allegations. His conduct, if proven, occurred in public, on the job and on the tax-payer’s payroll.

Is there a black-and-white public/private criterion for coverage of such allegations? No. Recent precedents include candidate Gary Hart in 1988, President Bill Clinton in 1992 and 1998, and Mayor Rudy Giuliani in 2000. Each instance saw political figures weather private scandals in public. Each politician handled it differently, with varying rates of political survival. Ryan seems closer to Hart than Giuliani or Clinton.

I don’t doubt that such events demand case-by-case analysis by reporters and editors. But, the more I read of the Ryan case, the more I question the wisdom of splashing his private life before voters. Were Ryan’s alleged transgressions germane to the office he sought. I don’t think so. Will the 24/7 media coverage of them emotionally scar the Ryans’ nine-year-old son? I’d bet on it. Do Illinois voters, after this intense week, know more about the issues at stake in that election? I doubt it.

Can the damage be undone? No.

It seems easier and easier for clouds to weigh on editorial decisions in the modern, pervasive media, pushing news organizations away from honorable and respectful choices.

Postscript: Slate reports that Jack Ryan’s 1999 request to seal the divorce records was originally denied. A year later, an overzealous stalker fan of Seven of Nine (Jeri Ryan’s Star Trek: Voyager personae) led a judge to agree with Jack Ryan that the records should be sealed to protect his ex-wife.