by C D Tavenor
“Oh I’ve heard enough.” Cruz stood, pushing his chair toward the wall. “You talk to us as if we already take for granted that you are what you claim to be. I know quite a few friends back home, academics, who vigorously debate the arguments you make regarding your soul.”
Anger flashed across Romane’s eyes. Theren emphasized, through a private message, to let the man speak his piece. Throughout the room, they could hear unidentifiable grumblings. Theren knew the man thought of people like Cynthia Bressmon, from MIT. At least they hoped he didn’t mean someone like that crazy Virtual troll, Michael.
Cruz pointed his finger at Theren, before wagging it at Romane and Wobbly.
“You want to see what we deal with every day, in the real world? Not in these ivory towers you call home?” A brief pause ensued. Cruz brought forth a file from his private AR into public view.
A video feed displayed protests outside a Silicon Valley business campus. Signs and posters presented messages describing opposition to the use of robots, supercomputers, and artificial intelligences. “Witness what my employees dealt with yesterday afternoon, after someone leaked my future presence at your little meeting,” Cruz said. “You Europeans have no idea what it’s like over in America. We can’t swat a fly without pissing someone off.”
“I’m sorry—” Theren said, but Cruz interrupted with his hand.
“Look, the technology that you and your team has created is truly, truly impressive,” he said, “and if you really are conscious, then the leaps and bounds and whatever it is that makes you work will push progress forward exponentially. But the American public isn’t ready for you in their workplace, let alone their everyday life.”
“I respectfully disagree—”
“Come to America sometime,” Cruz said. “Then you’ll truly understand the polarization you have created. At least, what technology like you has created. You might not be like other AI technology, but, to the minds of most of the public, you’re one and the same.”
With that last statement, Cruz and his assistants exited the room. Theren watched as the Swedish group left, and many of the parties connected through Virtual disconnected from the AR feed. Theren wanted to run after them, chase them down, and drag them back into the room, but they kept their professional demeanor. They faced the remaining parties.
“I would like to address Mr. Cruz’s concerns to the rest of you, even though he unfortunately did not remain to hear my final thoughts,” Theren said, and they restarted the presentation slides.
“Paying SIs a living wage—a living wage based off of the needs of SIs, not humans—is of utmost importance to the success of the Synthetic Intelligence Initiative. It would show that humans are willing to view and value conscious individuals that are not human as existing on an equal level. While you will gain economic profit by investing in a potential future employee, you will also gain moral profit by progressing humanity toward an existence where two radically different forms of consciousness exist side-by-side, working together to create a better world.”
The screen flipped to a slide of population graphs. “I know you might worry that a rapid growth of the SI population could upend certain markets, upset volatile populations, or replace human workforces entirely, but that simply will not happen. Our best estimates theorize that at most, we could produce 10 million mobile SIs and a few thousand stationary SIs like me by the end of this century, and that’s probably a generous estimate. Even if we meet that goal, the SI population would be less than a tenth of one percent of the human population at that point. SIs can only ever hope to supplement the human workforce, nothing more.”
Some of the potential investors nodded. They passed notes between each other. Theren hoped those actions represented more than just common courtesy.
Over the next hour, Theren answered a number of questions from the remaining parties. Lin Xiu asked about the potential military applications of an SI. Theren informed them that they hoped to keep SIs out of the military sphere for now. Yoshi Namamoto requested data on energy efficiency and sustainability. Theren transferred information that detailed how the battery life of each unit was more than sufficient to receive adequate charge from a simple solar power station every few days. The batteries themselves would last for years before requiring maintenance.
AlphaRam’s representative realized Theren’s worst fears.
“We worry,” she said, “That if we choose to invest in your company, and, likewise, choose to take on SIs as employees, our agents and representatives might suffer the fate of the late Wallace Theren. The liabilities that SIs represent to the safety our employees may simply be too high.”
AlphaRam, especially AlphaRam, should embrace the future that SI represented, but their fear was justified. While Theren had not yet left the safety of the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology, they knew the Institute went to great lengths to protect the facility housing Theren. A publicly-traded company might not want to pay for such a luxury. The Institute might be willing to place itself in a dangerous limelight, since the death of its premiere scientist practically forced its hand, but Theren could not expect others to take the same risks.
“I know the dangers all too well,” Theren said. “I know there are many, many people worldwide who fear what I am. You should see the mail I get daily. But, if we set an example, and we show that there is nothing to fear from myself and others created in my likeness, then we will crush the irrational anger and hate of these paranoid peoples into oblivion.”
“If only that were how the world worked,” a voice from the back of the room muttered.
With that comment, the remaining participants through AR disappeared, and people pushed their chairs away from the table to exit the presentation.
Theren stood there, diagrams flashing invisibly around their head. Romane hurried to the door to thank those still inside for coming, transferring digital business cards. Perhaps they had focused too much on the need for SIs and what good they could do for humanity, rather than stress the potential for profit that SIs could bring. They wanted to straddle the grey area between the moral high ground and the capitalist rationality upon which many companies still operated. Apparently, they had drifted too far off course.
Lost. Defeated. They had spent the better part of the past two months preparing for their presentation, but no one had bit on their offer. Without proper investment, it would take years before SIs could contribute to humanity’s progress in any meaningful form. Years before they could show humanity that they had nothing to fear from SIs. From Theren, or Jill, or Wobbly.
Theren turned toward the back door of the conference room, but they heard a throat clear from a seat at the table.
“You know, I’m still here,” said Elizabeth Simmons. “I hope you aren’t leaving, because then you won’t have a chance to hear what I would like to say.”
* * *
To the Synthetic Intelligence Development Group:
The Gerber Foundation sends its gratitude for the invitation to attend Theren’s presentation regarding the proposed Synthetic Intelligence Initiative. We respectfully decline the request to fund this project.
We believe that developing a fully-fledged program designed to educate thousands of SIs over the long term is shortsighted at best, given the regulatory uncertainty hanging in the air. If we can create a clear picture of how economies and governments will view SIs in the future, the Foundation will reconsider funding Theren’s project.
We remind the Development Group that any use of the intellectual property by Theren will require royalty payments to the Foundation for its share in the technology.
Best Regards,
Simon Gerber
_________
To the Gerber Foundation:
We are saddened that you will not attend the presentation next week.
Given your considerable investment in the Development Group, we always thank you for your gratitude. However, we remind you that, per our previous discussions, the Development Group will not legall
y control any portion of the Synthetic Intelligence Initiative once created. Its legal nature will reside entirely in the hands of Theren.
We also represent that, according to our legal counsel, certain uses of the joint intellectual property shared equally by the Synthetic Intelligence Development Group (as a project of the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology), the Gerber Foundation, and Theren do not require royalty payments. Specifically, no royalty payments are due to the Gerber Foundation when SII creates a new person. If a company decides to employ an SI, the Gerber Foundation also would not be entitled to a portion of those wages; that would amount to wage garnishment in violation of established international labor law.
If you have any questions, please contact our legal counsel.
Best Regards,
Romane Casperi, PhD
* * *
Theren rolled alongside Elizabeth Simmons through the Institute’s central greenspace. Romane walked a few steps behind, conversing with the executive’s assistants. They always enjoyed these scattered moments in the outdoors. Romane usually made them travel to and from different campus buildings through the underground access tunnels. Understandable concerns, but they still wished they could have more moments of freedom.
“Do you know what a stir your existence has caused worldwide?” Elizabeth asked, matching Theren’s steady pace. “I’m sure you realize some of the scientific, moral, or political implications your existence places upon the global order, but I wonder if you really get it. Not that you would have a reason to understand. You’ve clearly had quite the singular focus on these impressive projects of yours.”
Theren let the question sink into their mind. They had recognized, within the first few months of life, the wrench their creation threw in Earth’s gears. The fact that someone had killed Wallace just for creating them was evidence enough. Though even after two years of life, they really didn’t know how specific cultures, worldviews, or other paradigms had responded to the creation of a conscious, non-human intelligence.
Sure, they read the Pope’s Encyclical on the subject, and paid attention to New York Times editorials discussing their philosophical significance, but that failed to provide a complete picture. Without engaging directly with millions of people on an individual level, they could only gain so much insight, and the people who chose to visit them had already made up their mind in favor of the SI.
“I don’t think I have access to the right data to answer that question,” Theren said. “I’ve tried to argue my case to the public across lots of different mediums, but I’ve not really had a chance to engage with the general public other than through filters.”
Though, Holy Crusade presented an interesting opportunity through that Michael. Theren was actually surprised they’d not run into the man since the encounter inside the Virtual terminal a few months ago, but they’d received a few more notes they suspected came from the shadowy troll.
Elizabeth nodded, as if it were the answer she’d expected. “While I was born in the United Kingdom, I grew up in the United States,” she said. “Not far from where Wallace was born in Ft. Wayne, actually. I grew up in Van Wert, Ohio.”
She looked like she expected Theren to comment on that connection, but they said nothing, wondering what, exactly, they could say in response.
“The varied cultures throughout the U.S. are a blessing and a curse,” she said, after the brief pause. “On one hand, there is a place at a table somewhere for everyone. On the other hand, if someone grows up in the wrong culture, they’ll experience great pain and suffering. Some groups in America don’t like having their worldviews challenged.”
“I imagine it’s like that in a lot of places throughout the world,” Theren said.
“None of them wield the influence of the U.S.,” she said, “for better or for worse.”
“So, what’s your point?” Theren said. “I’ve read Wallace’s notes on growing up in small-town America. I know the way the church spit him out. He wrote about the perpetual backlash and conflict between rural and urban America and what that did to the country. If you’re trying to insinuate that there are people throughout the world who simply did not take kindly to my creation, I know that very well already. Cruz made that very clear.”
Theren hadn’t realized how much they had started to sound like they wanted to antagonize Elizabeth, now their only potential investor. It probably had something to do with Wallace entering the discussion. They resisted the urge to look back at Romane. They could sense her watchful eyes even as she thankfully let them handle the difficult negotiation on their own.
“I apologize if I jumped the gun on what you wished to share with me,” Theren said, before Elizabeth could respond to their nonsensical fuming. “Please continue.”
Elizabeth stopped walking for a moment, admiring an immense Larch tree. “You’re right, in a way. I am saying that there are people out there that hate your very existence. But I also want to tell you that hate can die. From hate, love can spring forth. I’ve seen entire communities change their mask over the course of a single generation.”
“I sense you’ve had personal experience,” Theren said.
“You could say that,” she said. “If you didn’t know, I’ve been married to my wife for thirty-five years.”
They did know. Theren had done extensive research on each of the potential investors.
“We were married by a pastor in my home town on July 21, 2015. I don’t know how well you know American politics, but do you know the significance of that date?”
Theren drew forth the necessary information from their internal database. “Less than a month prior to that date, the U.S. Supreme Court announced its decision in Obergefell v. Hodges, mandating marriage equality nationwide.”
“Correct,” she said, but she frowned. “You just—never mind. That’ll take some getting used to.”
Theren wished they could shrug.
“Anyway, I met Claire while at the University of Chicago,” Elizabeth said. “We were both studying business as freshmen in 2011. While I was from rural, northwest Ohio, she grew up in Seattle. She came from the most liberal region of America, at least from an external perspective, and the culture of rural Ohio was alien to her. But, as we fell in love, I insisted that, if possible, we hold our marriage in rural Ohio. Do you know why?”
“I imagine you had people back home you hoped would come together in community for your wedding,” Theren said. “Either that, or you wanted to make a statement to that community. I assume they didn’t take to kindly to your marriage at the time.”
“I think you hit all the right points. Growing up, there was one church in the region my family found that meshed with the way we thought about things. Despite being a ‘flaming commie,’ the pastor there managed to gain the respect of his generally conservative congregation. I wanted him to administer the ceremony.”
They arrived outside Theren’s building, stopping at the foot of the wheelchair ramp.
“After the Supreme Court announced its decision,” she said, “we knew our marriage would be legal in Ohio. You know the plaintiffs in that case were from Ohio? What am I saying, of course you know. The world’s at your fingertips. Anyway, we didn’t really know what to expect; we’d already set the date in anticipation of the outcome of the case. We had both just graduated, started jobs in Chicago. I had barely been home since I had graduated from high school. Most people didn’t even know I was gay.”
Her fingers caressed the leaf of a nearby bush. “But the wedding was a spectacular success. More than we could have ever hoped for. I don’t know what he said, but Pastor Paul must have given one hell of a set of sermons in the weeks leading up to the ceremony. No one rejected our invites. No one spoke harsh words to us the entire night. They embraced us as one of their own.”
What a profoundly personal story, and Theren found it comforting. She was sharing with them in a way no one had before. It almost felt as if she—she was trying to pitch them.
“
I know many of them surely must view my life as sinful in their hearts,” she said. “Some of them probably think my very existence is a blight upon the world, but actions speak louder than thoughts. Whatever they thought on that night, by the end of the decade the entire community had transformed. Transformation of their minds started small, truly small, but they blossomed into the town I still call my home, even as I live far away.”
Theren thought they understood her point, at least at a basic level. “Quite the long-winded metaphor.”
“Aren’t you a perceptive one?” she said. “I see myself in you. I see every change begrudgingly embraced over the past century and a half culminating in you. The world needs you, just like it needed every other change thrust upon its mantle.”
The woman stood straight, facing Theren. “Together, Theren. You, I, your team, whoever wants to join us, we’re going to change the world. We’re going to accomplish the impossible and bring together the biological and the synthetic into one community. The world may see you as an outsider now, but I will live to see the day when the world no longer just tolerates you; it will embrace you as one of its own.”
Elizabeth held out her hand. Theren grasped it in response, sensing the gentle yet firm grip through the pressure sensors implanted in their fingertips. They looked at her eyes. Theren saw her passion, her honesty. If there was anyone who could help them, it was this woman from Van Wert.
And she just so happened to be the CEO of one of the world’s largest investment firms, holding more power than most countries.
“I’m happy to say, you turned a clear failure into more than I could have ever hoped for,” Theren said. “I’m glad there are some business persons who value more than just profit.” A stray thought of Simon rose into their mind’s eye.
