by C D Tavenor
“Don’t pretend that it’s all daisies and roses moving forward,” she said. “We’ve got a long road ahead of us, and even if I’m not joining you for financial gain, I won’t deny that I see immense financial potential in our partnership.”
Joy filled Theren’s mind. Soon, they would bring their people into the world and prove to humanity that SIs belonged by its side.
Elizabeth Simmons let go of their hand. She turned toward her assistants. “We’ll have contracts written by the end of the month.”
Chapter 6
Synthetic intelligence may have revolutionized society. It may have changed what we thought it meant to be “human.” Yet I propose that humanity didn’t truly evolve into its greater form until Elizabeth Simmons inadvertently set Theren on a collision course with history.
People often comment on the way in which famous individuals just happen to be in the “right place at the right time.” They provide reasons for why certain people are “outliers” rather than others. If Theren hadn’t accepted Elizabeth’s deal, would we be where we are today? Would we have, instead, fallen into a new Dark Age? We may never know. Can we really say that Theren was the catalyst of change? On the other hand, did they just find themself in the right place at the right time, taking advantage of the opportunities made available by those around them?
Is there really a difference? – Professor Emeritus of History, Theo Carltin, First University of Mars, 2142 C.E.
January 2051, C.E.
The wind whistled between the beams of the gazebo. Birds chirped. The sun beamed upon them from the east.
“It’s your move,” Jill said, her hands resting beneath her chin. “Just because you’re the CEO and owner of an upstart multinational corporation now doesn’t mean you can just take all the time in the world.”
“It’s only been a few months since I signed the contracts,” Theren said. “And I’m technically not the sole owner. Elizabeth only signed over all of her shares to me for perpetual voting power.”
At least the UN Secretary on Artificial Intelligence had agreed that Theren had the legal standing to found the corporation at all. It had taken countless communications and coordinated contract drafting sessions between Theren and the legal teams of the Institute and Golden Ventures, but the finished project was a true work of art, in Theren’s opinion. Just a few weeks ago, Theren had finished educating their first class of mobile synthetic intelligences, and Sol Mining had already hired three of them.
Jill leaned back, and they could hear her back crack. “Sure, so what’s with the semantic difference? Synthetic Intelligence Initiative, Inc., a subsidiary of Golden Ventures. It has a nice ring to it.”
“I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Theren said, “I’ve acquired enough funds to produce a few MI-01s for you for experimental purposes. Interested?”
Jill threw an image of the first official synthetic mobile interfaces into the air beside their table. “I like the polished look,” she said. “Who’s building them?”
“Elizabeth set me up with factories owned by Vekesing Design. They have factories near Marseilles and Chicago.”
“I’m guessing most are being built out of the French factories.”
“Because of the protests in Chicago, you mean?”
Theren replaced her image of the MIs with a video of protests at Millennium Park. Signs vehemently opposed the continuous automation of technical industries across the United States, and scattered throughout the crowd were banners attacking Theren and Jill.
“Yeah,” she said.
“I don’t think the protestors know about the production line in the U.S.,” Theren said. “Besides, they’re not really focused on our existence, you know.”
“But that Cruz was right,” she said. “People are noticing. They’re trying to force the markets in a particular direction. We should have tried to change their minds before we just barreled ahead with SII.”
“Do you really think the two of us would have been enough?”
“We’re so far beyond anything any human expects, Theren,” she said. “I’ve been alive now for seven months, you for almost three years. We could have shown them something magnificent. Now they won’t trust us.”
Theren finally moved one of their pawns forward.
“I disagree,” Theren said. “The more data points we have, the more obvious it is that SIs will result in untold benefits to humanity.”
“Sometimes immense amounts of data can’t prove anything. Sometimes you just need a good story, and that’ll sway everyone to your side.”
Jill moved her bishop into a compromising position. Even after seven months, she had failed to defeat Theren even once in chess. With that move, she had all but assured Theren’s victory.
“Speaking of stories,” Theren said, “I hear Branches is doing quite well. New York Times puts it at third on their bestselling list.”
“And have you read the Intercept’s review?” she asked.
“No.”
“Don’t.”
Theren stared at the board, contemplating what they hoped would be one of their final moves of the match. They had just one final piece of information to bring up before they returned to their usual silent playstyle. While these two simultaneous perspectives continuously played a game of chess against each other, a few times a day, they would also use the server as a private communication channel, away from the prying eyes of the public. Theren could see the gazebo slowly transforming into a unique interpersonal relationship beyond anything ever before contemplated for SIs or humans.
“We’ve been invited to a party,” Theren said. They moved a rook forward three spaces, all but assuring checkmate within the next three moves. “It’s in a private Virtual world that Golden Ventures owns. Sounds fancy.”
Jill immediately responded by moving a pawn forward a single space. Bad move. “Fancy, indeed, and you don’t take me out enough anyway,” she said. “I would love to interact with a large group of people for a change.”
Theren had expected her to love the idea. While the general public knew Jill existed, they hadn’t engaged nearly as much with her as they had with Theren. Her new novel was her first truly public-facing moment. In fact, Wobbly and the first few SIs educated by SII were under stricter scrutiny than Jill, since they implicated a different sort of labor revolution.
They slid a note across the table to Jill. “The invitation is replicated there,” they said. “I’ll meet you at the entrance to Golden Ventures’ private Virtual world tomorrow, at 7PM EST.”
* * *
I saw you yesterday.
It was inside Virtual. Inside that game you play with your toy, Wobbly. What game was it? The Forge?
I can’t believe you think people will believe that a person can be named Wobbly. You can hide behind claims that that silly SI chose the name because it liked accepting the name given by its “parent,” but, really, it just shows that you, and your progeny, simply can’t make decisions for themselves. You took the name of your father. Jill took the name of a storybook character. Wobbly took a name that literally describes how it moves, and I hear it’s just a name that you originally gave it.
Remember, we’re coming for you. Our movement grows every day. We gain new members, we gain new funding. We will find a way to bring hellfire to your doorstep.
With love,
Michael
Romane found the letter attached to a tree along her path from her home to the Institute. She did not share it with Theren.
* * *
Theren waited beneath a golden archway adorning the far end of a cavernous room, the vaulted ceilings and hundreds of doors reminiscent of images of airport terminals. In an effort to make people more comfortable inside Virtual, a number of service providers created massive hubs for people to transfer between worlds. Theren, having a much more intimate understanding of Virtual and its processes, didn’t need such physical representations, but they enjoyed walking amongst the thousands of people transitioning to their next d
estinations. Besides, the hubs made great rendezvous points.
For a few seconds, the crowds around them dispersed, and they waited alone. An uneasy calm descended upon them. Theren glanced around. They felt someone watching them from afar, or perhaps from right next to them. Perhaps Michael would finally make an appearance. They hadn’t seen the man in months. Where was he? The sporadic notes had even decreased in frequency. But tonight, they had a party to attend. Tonight, Theren and Jill would witness the “Revelation” of the Century, as the invitation had called it. They need to stop chasing shadows.
That was quite the bold claim, given Theren and Jill’s existence.
At 7 PM on the dot, Theren witnessed Jill materialize next to a bench a few meters from the arch. She wore a long, purple dress that sparkled and danced as artificial light reflected off the shiny fabric. Her brown hair twisted into a number of complex braided patterns, held together with an obtrusive, black hairpin. A human would probably find her gorgeous. Theren admired her artisanship in constructing her avatar.
“That’s quite the way to make a statement,” Theren said. “Remember, the first half of the night is a masked party, so people won’t know who we are.”
“I know,” she said. “Doesn’t mean I can’t steal the show.”
Jill looked Theren over from head to toe. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”
“I’m simply dressing the part,” they said, looking down at their black suit, contrasted against their silver shirt. “I think I’ll erase my trademark though.”
The luminescent tattoos faded into obscurity. Theren covered their face with a black mask from the eighteenth century.
“You look like the phantom,” Jill said, chuckling.
“Shall we enter?” Theren said, ignoring her comment.
“We shall.”
The pair stepped through the archway together. In an instant, the network hub vaporized. Colors swirled. Lights flashed. While the transition to the new world was instantaneous server-side, international regulations mandated a transition period to help the human psyche handle the abrupt spatio-temporal perceptual shifts.
After a few seconds, the world stabilized. Before them arose a massive wooden doorway. Behind them, a circular road surrounded a fountain. Standing next to the immense entrance hearth, a man waited to greet them. He stood perfectly still, save for his arm reaching out toward them in a welcoming gesture. Theren suspected the man was a program that came with the house.
“Welcome, esteemed guests,” the greeter said. “If you need any assistance, feel free to ask me or any of my brothers for help. Inside, you will find other guests already socializing. The grand finale of the night will take place at five till 11. At that time, the masks will come off, and all Virtual signatures shall be revealed.”
Theren held out their hand.
“Shall we go be human?” she said, interlocking her fingers between theirs.
“It’s our specialty,” Theren said.
The doors opened upon a spectacular scene. Gold light adorned the room. White linens draped the walls. Red rugs enveloped the wide, double winder staircase. Theren estimated about a dozen or so people milled about the main foyer, with a number of voices coming from the hallways splitting to the left and right.
The building seemed much larger on the inside than it had from the outside, and that was saying a lot. Playing with the ordinary rules of physics, Golden Ventures had caused the indoor space of their banquet house to fill more space internally than it appeared externally. Theren had experimented with such potentialities on their private servers and had created a few intriguing results, but the company’s mind-bending reality went far beyond anything he’d accomplished. A perspective elsewhere started taking notes.
“I guess we should socialize,” Theren said, but they needn’t have said anything. Jill had already released her grip on their hand. She made her way to a group of three people conversing around a chest-high table. They let her go her own way, instead heading in the opposite direction down one of the side hallways.
Theren walked along a corridor designed especially to play wonderful mind games on its passengers. The hallway began to twist, and before they knew it, they were standing on the ceiling. Turning left, they entered a dining hall.
Theren approached a waiter who offered small cremini mushrooms stuffed with a mozzarella cheese. Theren accepted a napkin and, using a toothpick, selected one of the digital morsels. The waiter continued to the next guest, and Theren placed the appetizer in their mouth. They chewed. They swallowed. Like drinking water in Virtual, Theren received data inputs, feeling as if something tangible traveled down their avatar’s throat. Complex programs instructed Theren on how they should experience the taste of the combined mushroom and cheese, but Theren knew the experience vastly underrepresented a human’s sense of taste. They could not replicate the biochemical responses that engaged both the nasal cavity and the nerves located on the tongue.
Theren used the napkin to wipe their lips, before pushing the napkin into the air. It floated as Theren activated a “delete” function. The napkin disappeared from the server.
So far, no one had chosen to engage with Theren. Not that they had given anyone a chance. They just dipped in and out of the nonsensical rooms of the house, observing the laughs, jokes, and smiles of Golden Ventures’ unknown partygoers.
After a few minutes of wanderlust, Theren discovered a balcony gazing upon an expansive hedge maze. Just three other individuals populated the overlook.
On the left side of the balcony, Theren spied a couple engaged in some sort of heated discussion. Theren surmised they should leave them to their own devices. To the right stood a man wearing a brown sport coat and smoking a cigar. Just like eating or drinking, Theren imagined smoking would generate a strange sensation, though it would lack the unfortunate side effects that humans experienced. They applauded the man’s choice to smoke in Virtual, as opposed to in the real world.
Theren approached the man. “May I join?”
The man glanced up, noticing Theren for the first time. He did not wear a mask, but Theren doubted his appearance was genuine, with or without a mask.
“Of course,” said the man. “Not comfortable with the frivolity inside? I personally never can truly engage with people effectively in these virtual balls.”
“It’s not Virtual that’s the problem,” Theren said. “I find it strange that a party is based around masking identity.”
“Can’t say I don’t agree with you.” Theren inwardly named the man Brown Coat as he shrugged. “It is strange. I understand the origin of the practice, though.”
Theren was intrigued. “I would love to learn.” They could easily pull up an article on the subject, and they’d heard commentary on it in the past, but it seemed more appropriate to learn from a random partier.
Brown Coat snuffed out his cigar on the marble railing. Then, flicking it toward the sky, it slowly faded into thin air as the server erased the data. “A few decades ago, as the first social networks developed across the planet, humans for the first time began to lay out their entire lives for the public to see. Many people were weary of the practice, but before too long the general public wholeheartedly embraced it.”
“You’re speaking of the early networks, right?” Theren said. “Facebook? Myspace?” Theren recalled the names from a webinar on Early Millennial History.
“Correct,” the man said. “By the end of the, oh, second decade, a number of communities really pushed back on the lack of privacy, especially after that whole fake news scare. Unfortunately, the damage was permanent. In order to interact effectively using the Internet, you were practically required to have a page like Facebook. Sacrificing privacy was practically a necessity.”
Theren leaned against the marble railing. “And now thirty years later,” they said, “when privacy is essentially forgotten, some people view it as a luxury. A drug of choice.”
“Precisely!”
The man pulled ou
t another cigar and began to puff away. Theren embraced the moment of silence. The man took a few more puffs before continuing. “While many do not care to experience such disconnection from our now infinitely tiny, interconnected, world,” Brown Coat said, “some, such as our host’s wife, enjoy the sporadic experience of engaging with individuals from around the world without the ability to instantly know who they are.”
“So the real enjoyment,” Theren said, “comes from actually learning about another person through conversation, then. If I had access to your Virtual ID number, I’d know everything about you with the click of a button.”
“Exactly. Ancient masquerades, from the renaissance and the enlightenment, often centered on games that required the guests to determine the identities of the other participants. There might be plenty of games that keep their participants secret in Virtual, but all important actions through those networks are known and public.”
So tell me about yourself,” Theren said. “Perhaps we can try to learn who the other is.”
“Oh, I’ve already shared a little bit of myself by giving you a slice into my understanding of our little party,” Brown Coat said. “I want to know about you.”
Theren disagreed, for the conversation revealed nothing to them about who Brown Coat might be, but they thought it best not to argue.
“All right, what would you like to know?” Theren said.
“I always believe the best way to learn about a person is through what is currently on a person’s mind,” he said. “What big question are you contemplating?”
Theren handpicked their words. “Well, currently, most of my work focuses on psychology. I’m continuing to study the realm of nature versus nurture, especially in nonhuman sentient and sub-sentient systems.”
“So is it mostly theoretical,” Brown Coat said, “Or are you working with physical subjects? There aren’t a lot of non-human subjects void of environmental protections you could subject to experiments.”
