The hardcore fans of Aibo, a popular robotic pet, are a creative, if geeky, bunch. Since 1999, when the lifelike toys first appeared beneath Christmas trees, hundreds of Aibo enthusiasts have programmed their charges to perform tricks unimagined in the boardrooms of Sony, the robot's creator. By expertly tweaking Aibo's code, hobbyists have enabled the robobeast to boogie to Madonna's "Vogue," double as a breadbox-sized surveillance camera, or growl "Bite my shiny metal robot ass!" All these behaviors are infinitely cooler than the bland caninelike moves that unenhanced Aibos perform.
Rather than delight in its customers' passion, however, Sony is playing theGrinch. On October 26, Sony sent a stern letter to a man known as "AiboPet." Thecompany voiced its displeasure with his Web site, AiboHack.com, which offered such downloadable freebies as "Disco Aibo," a dance program, and "Brainbo," a voice-recognition package. Sony complained that AiboPet was violating the Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA), a 1998 law that largely forbids tinkering with copyrighted systems. Rather than face civil or criminal penalties, AiboPet shuttered most of his site, though not before firing a last salvo at Sony: "Life is too short to deal with these idiots."
The DMCA has a knack for evoking that sort of bitterness. In securing thelaw's passage three years ago, the DMCA's big-name backers--media and softwaretitans such as the Motion Picture Association of America and Microsoft--trumpetedthe bill as vital to preserving intellectual-property rights in the digital era.The law's meatiest section prohibits the circumvention of technologies that"effectively control access to a copyrighted work"--that is, the encryptionmechanisms designed to frustrate bootleggers. The DMCA's supporters argued thatthe measure would protect consumers from cheap knockoffs.
But companies have instead capitalized on the DMCA's vague language tobludgeon the likes of AiboPet, small-fry hackers who dare fiddle with devicestheypurchased legally--a practice that was formerly protected under the fair-usedoctrine. If Aibo owners can't poke around in their pet's code, they can'tprogram new behaviors. And if they can't program new behaviors, their only meansof bolstering Aibo is to purchase a lackluster $450 "performance kit" from Sony.
AiboPet blasts Sony's business strategy as hypocritical. He claims that thecompany has incorporated several of his software advances into its commercialproducts, such as outfitting newer Aibo models with a version of his "AiboScope"program, which lets the machine snap digital photos. Sony is thus using the DMCAto warp technology's public domain into a one-way street. "I really don't careabout them stealing ideas and more from me," grumbles AiboPet, who spoke oncondition that his real name not be revealed. "As long as they let me keep doingmy stuff." (Sony's only comment was a prepared statement that reiterated thecompany's dedication to protecting its copyrights.)
The DMCA is even being used to chill criticism of flawed products. This pastApril, the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA) took umbrage at thework of Edward Felten, a Princeton-based computer scientist. Felten had bested anencryption scheme created by the Secure Digital Music Initiative (SDMI), arecord-company consortium that's trying to prevent albums from being copied anddistributed electronically. When word leaked that Felten would air his results ata Pittsburgh conference, the RIAA informed him that he "could be subject toenforcement actions under federal law."
Though Felten eventually delivered his paper, he worries that the brouhaha hasfrightened many of his colleagues into silence. "The goal of doing research is topublish your results," says Felten, whose lawsuit against the RIAA--a potentiallegal challenge to the DMCA--was summarily dismissed by a federal judge in lateNovember. "If you're worried about your ability to publish on a particular topic,it makes it a lot less likely that you'll talk on the topic."
Easing the DMCA is a technogeek cause célèbre, but lawmakersseem oblivious to the moaning. Democratic Senator Ernest Hollings of SouthCarolina has drafted a sequel to the DMCA, the Security Systems Standards andCertification Act (SSSCA), which would mandate that all "interactive digitaldevices"--PCs, Discman CD players, even digital thermometers--containgovernment-approved anti-piracy controls. Anyone caught de-encrypting thosecontrols would face up to five years in prison and a $500,000 fine. EugeneSpafford, co-chair of the Association for Computing Machinery's public-policycommittee, calls the measure "the equivalent of outlawing copy machines becausethey could produce outlaw copies."
The hunt for bin Laden has pushed the SSSCA onto the back burner, but giventhe Beltway pull of the bill's primary backers--Disney and the News Corporation,who insist that the law will promote broadband deployment--it won't stay tabledfor long. Lining up in opposition are hardware manufacturers, who dreadgovernment oversight of their designs. But deference is chic during wartime, andthe hardware lobby may find that its traditional laissez-faire spiel no longercarries much weight on Capitol Hill.
Aibo owners, at least, aren't giving up without a fight. In response to theDMCA fracas, several enthusiasts have called for a boycott of Sony products;AiboPet himself canceled an order for his fifth robot. Sony, meanwhile, justreleased a rosy sales projection--it expects to sell 10,000 units of its newestAibo model, the ERS-220, which goes for $1,500. That's a lot to pay for a pet onsuch a tight leash.
