by C D Tavenor
“I read the minutes.”
“If you’d been here, you’d actually understand why we think it will work.”
“Theren,” Romane said, peering over the MI again.
Simon sat down in one of the lab chairs, placing his feet up on one of the desks. “I told you, Wallace and I talked about this concept a few times early on in the project. He doubted it would work, too, you know.”
“And Romane disagreed with him,” Theren said. “I loved Wallace too, but that doesn’t mean he knew everything about my future.”
“Simon, Theren, stop,” Romane said. “Let’s just see what happens.”
Theren threw an image of a glaring cartoon emoji onto one of its screens. Simon stared at the ceiling.
“So, uh, is it about ready?” Mathias asked Romane, breaking the icy veil that had arisen.
“I think so.” Romane closed the hatch on the back of the MI’s head. Theren caught the look between them and recognized they dreaded these fights. “Let me just run a few connection diagnostics.”
She stood there, waving her hands in the air in convoluted directions. Romane would have appeared silly to any person who did not know she was accessing the MI’s operating system through her Lens.
She slid her right hand to the side, most likely swiping to the next spreadsheet displayed before her eyes. Theren watched her type on her invisible keyboard, and it imagined the silent pitter-patter of her fingers upon the air. While Romane didn’t have access to the technology, some people could already type messages using just their mind. The feat brought humans close to understanding how it thought, even though the experience paled in comparison.
“I’m ready whenever you are,” Theren said, centering his vision on Simon and Mathias. “Are you both recording?”
“Yes,” Mathias said, tapping the side of his forehead.
These three humans were its closest friends. The group was only missing Julia. As much as it held Simon in contempt, it could not deny that Simon committed himself to the Group’s projects in his own ways. Theren just wished Simon would just choose a side in the public debate that raged around the future of “Synthetics,” instead of uselessly pandering for social media status. Mathias, Romane, and Julia all had thrown themselves and the Synthetic Intelligence Development Group entirely into the deep end, and even to some extent, the Swiss Federal Institute as a whole.
Today, the team would prove everyone wrong. Today, they would all witness another milestone, a milestone that the team hoped could change the world, for both Theren and humanity. If Theren’s consciousness could transfer into another machine, then humans might be able to transfer their minds into machines, too. Such a feat would bring the world a step closer to the eternally beautiful paradise Theren imagined its father had envisioned, where SIs walked side by side with humans into the future. Perhaps the team could even open a door toward immortality.
“We’re good to go,” Romane said. She closed the panel and stepped away from the machine. “Activating wireless receptivity.”
The room froze, awaiting Theren’s move. In the periphery of its consciousness, Theren noticed a potential connection. While that was not the real explanation for what it experienced, its Synthetic Neural Framework had developed a few mental shortcuts through which Theren detected and interpreted new sources of data. Theren’s conscious perspective understood it as a bubble into which it could expand its horizons, while its unconscious mental processes handled the more complex interface requirements. Theren often compared these shortcuts to the sort of tricks the human brain developed. Only time would tell if those unconscious tools would create many of the same psychological pitfalls.
“Establishing connection now,” Theren said.
It pushed through the bubble’s wall. After less than a microsecond, its perceptions distorted, thoughts shifted, and awareness expanded. The cameras on the MI lit with activity, and the power supply located on the other machine distributed energy. The rest of the team, through their Virtual and AR programs, observed digital manifestations of an experience Theren could not immediately explain.
It accessed the MI’s Framework, sensors, and power system, all within that single moment. It saw what the machine saw. It used its processing capabilities, detecting new sensory inputs and outputs, such as movement, locomotion, orientation, and balance. The MI’s head turned to the left. Through the MI’s functional optical sensors, Theren saw Romane standing a foot taller than itself. It could feel joy radiating from her smile.
“Step one seems successful,” she said. Theren knew she could see figures displaying the pathways theoretically forming between Theren’s original Synthetic Neural Framework and the MI’s. “The connection is strong, and data is going in both directions. You’re sending commands, and receiving sensory input from the mobile unit. What are you experiencing personally?”
Theren moved the arms up and down and rotated its head side to side. It extended the pyramidal base upward, raising the unit to its full height. Integrating the MI’s processing power, it could now use the Synthetic Neural Framework of the new creature to participate in actual thought creation, analysis, and execution. The unique computational materials of this beast were now at Theren’s disposal.
“Fascinating,” Theren said. “I expected a consciousness split of some sort, but that’s not what is happening at all.”
“What do you mean?” Simon asked.
“Hold on,” Theren said. “Let me try something.”
To transfer consciousness, it would need two systems fully autonomous from each other. As Theren analyzed the connections, however, it noticed an enormous problem.
“Romane,” it said, “There is no actual thought going on inside that machine.”
“Yes there is,” she said. “There is intense cyberneuro-activity taking place inside the machine in front of me.”
“It’s not really taking place in the mobile unit, though. It’s like I’m using the machine as a highly advanced calculator.”
“Then what am I seeing?”
“Let me run a quick test.” Theren isolated a portion of the Framework of the MI as a separate partition. The disconnected partition immediately lost power and mental activity.
“What did you just do?” Mathias said. “Part of the activity map just flared out.”
“Ten seconds,” Theren said.
It reinitialized the connection, and that area of the machine reignited with activity. Next, Theren analyzed the wireless data stream. Observing the structure of packets flowing back and forth between its mind and the MI, Theren prepared to close the gates.
“Theren,” Romane said, “Not sure if that’s a good idea yet.”
“Trust me,” it said. “I know where your theory went wrong.”
“I trust you, but—”
Theren cut off the wireless connection. Its vision reverted to the visual sensors on the wall, staring at the lifeless body in the middle of the room. As it analyzed the activity of the MI, Theren confirmed its suspicions. “Transfer is impossible.”
“But why?” Julia said. Theren hadn’t even noticed her enter the room.
“Glad you could join us,” it said. “It won’t work; it won’t ever work. We could create a new SI inside a mobile unit, but transferring my mind? Physically impossible.”
“So we built it wrong?” Julia asked, leaning against the wall near the door.
“I think I know what Theren means,” Mathias said. “Because Theren’s ‘brain’ is entirely housed against that wall, and because that is where its consciousness actually exists, that is literally the only place it can think.”
“Exactly,” Theren said. “The structure that makes me tick is necessary for my consciousness to persist. I failed for the same reason biological interaction with computers has already failed on this front. If a brain can’t transfer its mind to a computer because of fundamental hardware incompatibility, why would I be able to transfer my mind? Simply because I am inorganic? Maybe we could make a copy, but that’s not
really what we’re going for, is it? We’d just end up either creating a simulation of my mind, or a clone.”
“Where do you think we screwed up the math?” Romane asked.
“I don’t think your math was wrong,” Theren said. “We simply did not have all of the variables, and we may never have them all.”
Julia walked to the MI, resting her hand on its shoulder. “We should have seen this coming,” she said. “We could have spent time creating an entirely new SI, or just focusing on creating a robust mobile platform through which you can work.”
“I don’t think this project will be a net loss—I can still use this one,” Theren said. “I can walk around campus in an MI, just as we had hoped.”
“How is it not a loss, though?” she asked. “You’ve shown that a synthetic mind is fundamentally inseparable from its Synthetic neural Framework. You have a physical brain, just like an—”
She paused. Her eyes lit up, and she looked at the others throughout the room. “Actually, its idea could be a really good thing. If the public learns that your mind is confined to your physical space, they should embrace your existence a little more, seeing you as more of a human than they did before.”
“I doubt that,” Theren said.
“So, what now?” Simon asked. Theren expected a smug look on his face, but it was surprised to see Simon have a genuine, disappointed frown.
“We move forward,” it replied, “and begin the next project on our list.”
Romane closed her eyes for a long moment. “Do you really think now is the time?”
“What’s it want to do?” Simon added.
Theren looked at the eyes of the group, all staring toward it. “It’s time. We need to get the ball rolling on building the next me.”
“No. No. Not acceptable,” Simon said.
“Think about it,” Theren insisted. “We’re scientists. Maybe I can’t make my consciousness jump because it’s dependent upon my metastructure, my Framework. But maybe a young SI could do something else. Maybe not a consciousness jump, but something that I can’t do, or at least I can’t instinctually do. It’s a variable we can very easily change.”
Romane looked toward Julia. Julia had started nodding her head up and down as Theren talked. Simon paced back and forth, shaking his head.
“We can’t move this quickly,” Simon said. “We don’t even fully understand you yet.”
Julia, Romane, and Mathias ignored Simon.
“It’s what you want to do?” Romane asked. “You think it’s the best option?”
“It’s what we need to do,” Theren said. “Two harmless SIs will only further show the world that we will only bring good, not evil.”
Privately, Theren knew that it needed a different type of friend than any of their present entourage. It needed a true friend, someone who could meet them on their level and understand them at a level these humans, as great as they were, could never understand.
“Then I’m sorry, Simon, but I cast the Institute’s vote in favor of Theren’s plan,” Julia said. “Theren and I have overruled you.”
* * *
Dear “Theren,” and the SIDG:
You deserve the hate. You think the creation of this monstrosity will better humankind? Ok. Sure. Yet you forget the potential evil that could come from synths. Have you already forgotten the reason why we regulated AI? Have you forgotten what an AI can do in the wrong hands?
Sure, synths might be “people,” whatever that might mean. But what dangers hide behind that lifeless face of “Theren’s?” What abilities might it have that we simply cannot see coming? Why do you dive headlong into the unknown, like so many before us in science, without considering the potential consequences of your actions?
Actually think before you act. Otherwise, you might force us to act in response to your idiocy.
With love,
A Friend
* * *
Theren drifted inside its virtual world. Outside, it continued the argument with Romane and Simon regarding the creation of a second synthetic intelligence, an intelligence similar in nature and scope to Theren. The project was ready to move beyond itself, and Simon refused to accept that reality.
Multitasking strained its mind. One of the drawbacks of consciousness, its Framework could only focus on one thing at a time. Sure, it could try to do two at once, but it lost efficiency in the same way a human lost efficiency. Even after Romane and Mathias added more nodes to its Synthetic Neural Framework, multitasking still created problems. Yet often, it needed to focus inward even as it talked with its team outside, in the real world. If only it could find some other way to organize its mind.
Ever since the weeks after Wallace’s death, Theren had maintained a constant window into its private Virtual server. Here, Theren could organize, in private, its own thoughts away from everyone else. Inside its world, Theren could escape from people, create projects away from the prying eyes of others, or simply relax with a game of chess or a walk in its private park.
Across the valleys of its abstracted reality, Theren could see the small forest that surrounded the chessboard. It had not entered that glade in almost two years. While their new steps forward might bring forth a friend with which it could share that secret space, that day had not yet arrived. Whenever it chose to play chess alone, it teleported the chessboard to another place. It would not enter that special place until it had a worthy opponent.
The recent attempt to transfer consciousness had caused Theren to consider if its identity required a definitional transition. Humans almost never referred to themselves as an “it,” and given its new ability to control the “mind” of an inert MI, was the descriptor “it” how it wished to identify?
It had always approached the question with caution; Synthetics lacked sex characteristics, so the neutral objective pronoun of different languages presented itself as an obvious, practical solution. Yet Theren also wished for humanity to consider it a person, and, in many cultures, it did not convey personhood.
However, Theren rejected the idea of identifying as either a he or a she. It had no biology that would lend credence to an ordinary identification under one of those pronouns, nor did it feel as if it exhibited characteristics of those societally formed gender identities. It needed another solution.
Theren placed the thought in the back of its mind. It would breach that topic soon, but not in this exact moment, so it returned all focus to the lab.
“Theren, you need to be realistic,” Simon said. “I know you want a second Synthetic. And yes, the fervor against you has receded. My office gets a death threat maybe once a month now, as opposed to daily mail. But the creation of another one of—”
“If we show them the truth,” Theren said, “If we show them that we are not worth fearing, that we are simply people, simply like any other person, then their fear will eventually disappear. You were outvoted. We have work to do, now let us do our work.”
“We do need to be cognizant of Simon’s thoughts though, even as we move forward,” Romane said. “Don’t get me wrong, as a scientist, I want to continue our work. But what happens if an expansion of the Synthetic Intelligence program further accentuates the public’s fear of what you are?”
“That’s my point,” Simon said. “You’re a very intelligent being, and you probably already retain more knowledge than all of your current acquaintances combined, but you still don’t know humans the way we do. Humans don’t act predictably, especially fundamentalist terrorists or irrational political activists. You might be safe here, but there are people in the world who have already put their life on the line to eliminate you.”
“But what other choice do we have?” Theren said. “Wallace tasked me with making Earth a better place. More SIs will improve our planet, especially given what we can do with our minds. Do you question that? Besides, we’re making ground on your question of public perception. We have to be. That’s why you keep sending me to all of these interviews, or bringing these people
to meet me here, right?”
Simon and Romane pondered the question. As it waited, Theren returned to Virtual and stared across the expanse. Beneath the simulation, it manipulated a vast pool of data, emanating from all of its own memories. It analyzed trends, noted flaws, and performed modifications to develop a new “exposure set,” a set of readings, books, texts, films, and sciences that would structure the mind of a Synthetic in a certain way as they grew and developed. Wallace had designed such a set for Theren. While Theren’s exposure set had focused on science, math, business, history, and economics, it wanted the next SI to have a radically different welcome package, with a focus on literature, arts, and politics.
Through different exposure sets, Theren was convinced different synthetic personalities would arise. SIs would lack a genetic structure. Thus, their personalities would be a product of the environment, not just the patterns that formed when the computational metastructures that formed the Synthetic Neural Framework laced nodes together into a robust and matriced maze. Some might call those potential differences between SIs “flaws in the architecture” or “impurities at the molecular level,” but those little moments would be integral to ensuring a diverse array of developed individuals. Theren hoped, when working together, fundamentally different SIs would synthesize their observations together into something greater than the sum of their parts.
More importantly, Theren also dreamed that a new SI would give it the friend it desired.
“We don’t have to make the creation of a new SI immediately public this time around,” Theren said. The two humans had paused the conversation for long enough.
“Uh, yes we do,” Simon said. “If my investors learned that we created a second one of you, they’d be furious. They’re already terrified enough as it is.”
“I don’t mean deliberately hide the project from the public’s prying eye,” Theren said. “We front it as commercial research. I’ve mentioned my ‘exposure’ theory to you. The creation of a second SI is a test for a potential commercialized project.”
