The Greek myth of Talos the first robot Adrienne Mayor

Hephaestus, god of technology, was hard at
work on his most ingenious invention yet.

He was creating a new defense
system for King Minos,

who wanted fewer intruders on his
island kingdom of Crete.

But mortal guards and ordinary
weapons wouldn’t suffice,

so the visionary god devised an
indomitable new defender.

In the fires of his forge,

Hephaestus cast his invention in
the shape of a giant man.

Made of gleaming bronze; endowed with
superhuman strength,

and powered by ichor,
the life fluid of the gods,

this automaton was unlike anything
Hephaestus had forged before.

The god named his creation Talos:
the first robot.

Three times a day, the bronze guardian
marched around the island’s perimeter

searching for interlopers.

When he identified ships
approaching the coast,

he hurled massive boulders
into their path.

If any survivors made it ashore,

he would heat his metal body red-hot
and crush victims to his chest.

Talos was intended to fulfill his duties
day after day, with no variation.

But despite his robotic behavior,

he possessed an internal life his victims
could scarcely imagine.

And soon,

the behemoth would encounter a ship
of invaders that would test his mettle.

The bedraggled crew of Jason, Medea,
and the Argonauts

were returning from their hard-won quest
to retrieve the Golden Fleece.

Their adventure had taken
many dark turns,

and the weary sailors were desperate
to rest in a safe harbor.

They’d heard tales of Crete’s invulnerable
bronze colossus,

and made for a sheltered cove.

But before they could even drop anchor,
Talos spotted them.

While the Argonauts cowered at the
approach of the awesome automaton,

the sorceress Medea spotted a glinting
bolt on the robot’s ankle—

and devised a clever gambit.

Medea offered Talos a bargain:

she claimed that she could
make Talos immortal

in exchange for removing the bolt.

Medea’s promise resonated deep
within his core.

Unaware of his own mechanical nature,

and human enough to long for
eternal life, Talos agreed.

While Medea muttered incantations,
Jason removed the bolt.

As Medea suspected, the bolt was a
weak point in Hephaestus’ design.

The ichor flowed out like molten lead,
draining Talos of his power source.

The robot collapsed with
a thunderous crash,

and the Argonauts were free
to travel home.

This story, first recorded in
roughly 700 BCE,

raises some familiar anxieties
about artificial intelligence—

and even provides an ancient
blueprint for science fiction.

But according to historians, ancient
robots were more than just myths.

By the 4th century BCE,

Greek engineers began making
actual automatons

including robotic servants and
flying models of birds.

None of these creations were
as famous as Talos,

who appeared on Greek coins, vase
paintings, public frescoes,

and in theatrical performances.

Even 2,500 years ago,

Greeks had already begun to investigate
the uncertain line

between human and machine.

And like many modern myths about
artificial intelligence,

Talos’ tale is as much about his robotic
heart as it is about his robotic brain.

Illustrating the demise of Talos on a
vase of the fifth century BCE,

one painter captured the dying
automaton’s despair

with a tear rolling down his bronze cheek.