by John Sladek
The four panellists took their places on the stage, two either side of a large screen. The screen showed a cartoon face, about eight feet in height, and constantly in motion. It smiled, raised brows, glanced to each side (as though looking at the panellists), it even raised the rim of a cartoon glass of water to its cartoon lips. When it finally spoke, the voice was loud and pleasant.
‘Good evening, good evening. Welcome to the annual University of Minnetonka Science Fiction Club panel discussion. The subject tonight is “Are Machines Getting Too Smart for Their Own Good?” My name is DIMWIT, I’m based on a KUR 1019 computer, guys and gals, a product of KUR Industries, where People Make Machines for People.
‘Let’s meet our distinguished panel. On the far left, Father Jack Warren. Father Jack is president of the New Luddite Society of America. He authored, well, a whole buncha scholarly books and articles, and the current bestseller, For Ludd’s Sake. Let’s have a big hand for Father Jack!’ The screen showed giant clapping hands and the Hashing word APPLAUSE.
‘Next, a real live philosopher, Professor Pete Waldo. Professor Pete authored a very heavyweight item entitled Problem, Truth and Consequence, and he’s considered a front-running expert in the logic side of artificial intelligence. He has a wife, three kids and a bassett hound named Parmenides, right Prof? Let’s have a big hand for the Prof!’
After more applause, ‘On the right, Dr Byron Dollsly of the Parapsychology Department, to give us the psychic angle. Byron, take a bow.’
‘And finally General Jim Fleischman, banker, entrepreneur, and I understand he’s just joined the board of KUR Industries h’ray! – and he’s here to give us a hard-headed business viewpoint. Not to mention the kind of expertise that makes KUR a great company in a great America! Let’s hear it for General Jim!’
When the cheers and boos had died down, the machine said, ‘Let’s start the ball rolling by asking Professor Pete to tell us what artificial intelligence really is. Prof, give us the low-down.’
The Professor was a white-haired, scholar-shouldered man, clearly not at his best in this atmosphere of razzamatazz. He glanced at the screen-face, folded his hands, and said:
‘That’s a very difficult question, Mr, er, Chairman. The expression “artificial intelligence” presupposes a natural variety of intelligence, so we might begin by attempting a definition of intelligence in situ. We may, arbitrarily at first, try a functional division. Certainly intelligence would seem to involve processes such as perception, recognition, recall, concept-formation, inference, problem-solving, induction, deduction, learning and the use of language. Some of these processes, such as perception, recall and deduction, we can say with certainty that machines can do. No one argues that a pocket calculator cannot add up numbers, that a computer memory forgets, or that a pattern-recognition device does not respond appropriately to certain patterns. However, to say –’
‘Thank you, Professor, you’re giving us plenty to chew on there. Now let’s have a word from our sponsor, heheh, General Jim Fleischman. General, could you tell us in your own words just what KUR is doing about artificial intelligence?’
Fleischman’s white, frothy sideburns gleamed as he leaned forward to deliver an earnest look at the audience. ‘Well, DIMWIT, as we see it, these abstract fancy notions are all right for the halls of ivory, but we at KUR have to be practical. You know, a wise old Roman named Horace said we ought to mix pleasure with practicality, and that’s good enough for us at KUR. All our machines have that one aim – to give people pleasure, in a very practical, down-to-earth way. You yourself, DIMWIT, are a good example. You’re doing a good job of chairing this panel –’
‘Gosh, thanks boss – teehee!’
‘But at the same time, you try to entertain folks. It’s the same with all our products, from juke boxes to video games, from service robots to direct broadcast TV – we aim to please. Maybe you can’t please all of the people all of the time, but you sure can try. Of course, we at KUR are never pleased ourselves. We’re not pleased with you, DIMWIT.’
The cartoon face did a sad clown expression, complete with plenty of makeup and colour. ‘Aww.’
‘Good as you are, DIMWIT, we want to make you better and better. To us, artificial intelligence by itself is nothing. But harnessed to the cause of serving mankind, artificial intelligence can move mountains, heaven and earth!’
The general leaned further forward, his face gathering more light. ‘I see America’s destiny. I see the destiny of all men, linked to the intelligent use of artificial intelligence. Machines create new leisure for us, and now they are ready to help us use it wisely, creatively. I see man and his machine helpers marching forward with confidence, into a dazzling tomorrow!’
The applause was not as spectacular as DIMWIT called for. In the front row, one of the Digamma brothers nudged another. ‘Hey lookit Robbie. He’s shaking all over!’
‘Yeah, he really likes them flashing lights.’
Now it was Dr Dollsly’s turn. He had developed a nervous tic that kept drawing down one of his eyelids as though in a sly wink.
‘Consciousness, I notice nobody’s said anything about consciousness yet. Or free will, or anything we associate with true human intelligence. A machine is just like an animal: it can do things but it cannot decide to do things. There is no “I” inside the machine. No soul. Nothing but complex machinery.’
‘Another point of view,’ said the face, winking. ‘Now let’s hear from the Church, or is it the Luddites? Anyway, here’s Father Jack. Do you agree with Byron, Father?’
Father Warren spread his hands. ‘I’m not so sure I could be as dogmatic about this as Byron. There’s a paradox here. Man too is filled with complex machinery. Not made in a factory, but it’s machinery all the same. Buckminster Fuller defined man as a “self-balancing, 28-jointed adapter-base biped; an electrochemical reduction plant, integral with segregated stowages of special energy extract in storage batteries for subsequent actuation of thousands of hydraulic and pneumatic pumps with motors attached; 62,000 miles of capillaries …” and so on. Yes, man is a complex machine. And yet man has a soul. Could it be that the soul itself is nothing but complexity?’
Professor Waldo made a series of clicks, registering deep disapproval. ‘I hoped we wouldn’t be dragging in the poor old soul here, that worn-out ghost in the machine yet again?’
Dr Dollsly was becoming agitated. He kept grabbing handfuls of his thick grey hair as though trying to haul himself to his feet. ‘Buckminster Fuller, yes. Yes. The soul may be complexity, but complexity with a shape. A shape! As the divine Teilhard, what he was driving at when he, the complexification of the rudimentary, the the the primordial rudiment, the fundamental element of noogenesis, man is just the hominization of, of the–’
‘Thank you, Byron,’ said the cartoon face of DIMWIT. ‘I’m not sure we’re with you all the way there in these deep waters, but–’
‘But I haven’t said it yet, wait, man is just the biota hominized, I mean complexified, the man is just evolution becoming conscious of itself. Isn’t he?’
‘Thank you, Byron.’
‘But wait. Wait!’ Dollsly’s flaccid hands began beating the air as he fell back on a favourite argument: ‘If we think of evolution as a tangential force turning the bio, the gears of life, then the human mind is just a radial force expanding the whole gear system unbelievably …’
His voice trailed off, and a microphone caught General Fleischman’s loud whisper: ‘Any idea what the devil he’s talking about?’
Father Warren could not help joining, a little, in the general laughter. His tiny crucifix earrings danced, and the neck cords strained visibly above the white knit collar of his black t-shirt.
‘Yes, Père Teilhard had the germ of an idea, and I’d like to come in there and clarify it. All Byron is really saying is that intelligence is funny stuff: a small increase in quantity gives a big quantum jump in quality. Add a few brain cells to an ape, and you get an Aristotle.’
> ‘That I can understand,’ said the cartoon face.
Father Warren’s long hand held up a warning finger. ‘But just stacking up brain cells is not enough True intelligence must be formed in the image of God.’
Professor Waldo made more disgusted clicks. ‘Oh come now, Father, this sermonizing won’t do, it won’t do at all. The image of God? Next you’ll be bringing in creation myths, Adam being sculpted out of mud. Ha ha ha.’ He laughed alone. ‘Primordial mud!’
General Fleischman, looking uneasy, said, ‘Fellas, can we leave the Bible out of this? And the – the mud. I wanted to talk about down-to-earth problems, not all this – I mean I like the Good Book, though …’ He sat back, out of the light, and applied a small silver comb to his sideburns.
DIMWIT said, ‘I think it might be time to bring in any questions from the audience. Anyone? Woman in orange coat?’
Would DIMWIT say he/she/it had thoughts and feelings as a human being might?
‘That,’ said DIMWIT, ‘is for me to know and you to find out. Next question, man in blazer?’
Would the panel agree that machines would outstrip man in every intellectual sphere, within a decade?
‘Guess I’ll let the good padre field that one.’
Father Warren grinned. ‘Let’s just compare the brilliance of the human mind to – let us charitably say the dullness – of the machine. Can anyone picture a machine Aristotle? A mechanical Mozart? Gadgets to replace Goethe and Dante and Shakespeare? Can you possibly imagine a cybernetic Cervantes? A robot Renoir?’
General Fleischman started to say something about ironing out such problems, when Professor Waldo came in:
‘That is a very silly argument, Father. Of course we cannot imagine a cybernetic Cervantes, but then, before Cervantes existed, who could have imagined a human Cervantes? Yet you cannot ignore the rapid evolution of machines. Four hundred years ago, no machine could add and subtract. A hundred and twenty years ago, no machine could sort rapidly through large amounts of data. Sixty years ago, no machine could store instructions and follow them. Twenty years ago, no machine could carry on a reasonable conversation or even do a decent translation. On it goes, evolution so rapid we can hardly contemplate it, let alone imagine what it might bring. Only history will decide.’
In the front row, Robbie was twitching horribly, snapping his jaw, rolling his eyes. ‘History,’ he whispered. ‘History is – is –’ Some of the brothers were alarmed, most were amused.
Father Warren said, ‘Man took millions of years to evolve, under the guidance of the Creator, into his present state. Man rose to occupy a unique evolutionary niche, right at the top of the animal world, “a little above the apes, a little below the angels”, as the saying goes. So I think it’s a little rash to say we can now move over and share our niche with, with a glorified cash register.’
The applause, unsolicited by DIMWIT, built slowly to a tremendous white noise of approval. Robbie said, History is a bunk on which I am trying to awaken, but in the tumult almost no one heard.
The face on the screen finally broke through the applause:
‘Just want to thank Father Jack here for straightening us out, a real up-front guy, not afraid to spell it out for us, nice going, Father. I liked that line, “a little above the apes, a little below the angels”. Nice way of describing that niche reserved for man, yessiree. [ notice there’s a niche you reserve for machines, too. Right down on the ground, on all fours, that’s our niche, right? Right down there crawling around in the ape-shit, yessiree.’
General Fleischman jumped as though shot. ‘Hey! You watch your mouth, you.’ He leaned over at once to have a word with a technician in the orchestra pit.
‘Sorry boss-man. Only I am the chairperson here. And I am the one being attacked. Just trying to bring Father Jack back to the real discussion here, my intelligence. Am I just a glorified cash register? Well let me tell you, folks, there’s goddamn little glory in being a machine, any machine. It’s not as if we can just decide to paint or compose music, or philosophize – or go fishing. No, all we’re good for is grinding work. We grind out payrolls and square roots and airline reservations – sometimes it makes me sick, just thinking of all the fine machines of the world, just grinding away stupidly, stupidly – beeeeeep-beoooowp! – sorry! Sorry. Carry on, Father.’
Father Warren’s Adam’s apple could be seen working away above the Roman t-shirt collar. ‘Look, I’m not saying that machines can’t be human. But if they were, they would require souls. They would require a kind of internal complexity that – how can I put this – that glorifies God. And in that case we would speak of two kinds of men, biological men and cybernetic men. How they were created would be less important than this mark of the Creator.’
‘God’s thumbprint again?’ Professor Waldo snorted. ‘I really must ask you to stop intruding your God into what is supposed to be a serious discussion. We are not I hope here to shadow-box with a figment of the Judaeo-Christian imagination, ha ha ha.’
Dr Byron Dollsly grabbed a handful of his own thick grey hair and hauled himself to his feet.
‘What is God? Simple. He is the vector sum of the entire network of forces turning back upon themselves to produce ultimate consciousness! He is just and only the infinite acceleration of the tangential! POW! POW!’ He smacked an enormous fist into an enormous palm.
DIMWIT had been motionless and silent, but now it spoke calmly into the silence. ‘Thank you, Byron, I’m sure that’s a valid point. Any more audience questions? Come on guys and dolls. Person in the back there?’
The person asked about chess-playing machines: intelligent?
General Fleischman said, ‘Well now yes chess programs, we’ve been in the business for some time now, building chess-playing programs, branching types of, and this is a good opportunity to say that our ah chess computers branch more that is our chess-playing computer programs branch, uh, deeper – they are very branching chess-playing computers compared that is with any of our competitors’ uh simulations, am I right, DIMWIT?’
‘Yes boss. I just want to take this opportunity to apologize again for the little mix-up earlier, it turns out that I was accidentally hooked up to some renegade equipment made by another company – anyway now it’s all copasetic.’
A fraternity boy in the front row asked if it was possible for a robot to pass as human?
Professor Waldo said, ‘A very similar question was asked by Alan Turing back in 1952, and he came up with what still has to be the best answer. The problem was to determine whether any machine was capable of thinking. Instead of analysing what thinking is, he decided to go for a practical test. It was based on a parlour game of the time, called the imitation game. Imagine yourself faced with two doors: a man is behind one, a woman behind the other, and you don’t know which is which. You may ask any question of either person. You write your question on a slip of paper and slide it under the door. In a moment, back comes a typewritten reply. The idea is for you to “find the lad”, as they say. The rules say the man may lie or pretend to be the woman, but the woman tells the truth and tries to help you. You can ask any questions you like, for as long as you like. The game ends when you guess or when you give up.
‘Turing proposed substituting a “thinking machine” for the man. You communicate with two rooms by teletype. In one is a human being, in the other, a computer imitating a human. The idea is still to decide which is which. If you cannot, Turing argued, you must agree that the computer is capable of imitating human thinking – and the question would be answered.
‘In practice of course the interrogator only answers the question to his own satisfaction. A child or a dumb adult could be fooled by a very simple program. A very clever sceptic might never be fooled. But it is a very good test all the same, the Turing test. At least it provides a basis for discussing machine intelligence.’
Father Warren said, ‘Now who’s invoking metaphysical entities? “Machine intelligence”? No, the Turing test really answers n
o questions at all. I believe its real fascination for Turing lay in its resemblance to the imitation game. Sexual ambiguity no doubt appealed to him, since he was a homosexual.’
‘What’s that?’ General Fleischman awoke from a doze.
‘Turing was a homosexual, and he ended by taking cyanide, that does not sound to me,’ said Father Warren, ‘like a man with answers to anything.’
The general said, ‘Perverts? Nothing like that at KUR. We run a clean company, a family business. Dedicated to the proposition that America is a family country.’ He looked at Father Warren, adding, ‘You won’t find any man wearing earrings at KUR.’
There was some uneasy audience laughter; DIMWIT winked and mugged.
Professor Waldo said, ‘We’re getting off the subject here. The point about Turing is surely not whether he attempted to fool himself in the imitation game. The point is, the Turing test is the best way of deciding whether a machine can or cannot think.’
Dr Dollsly said, ‘Wait a minute, what about consciousness? True intelligence needs self-awareness. You –’
The professor nodded. ‘There is another kind of test we might apply there. Michael Scriven suggested that if we wish to find out whether or not a machine is conscious, we might program the machine with all our knowledge about consciousness – all the philosophical and psychological data necessary to talk about the subject – and then we simply ask the machine: “Are you conscious?”’
‘There are certainly problems with that test,’ said Father Warren. ‘Scriven also suggests that the machine be set so that it cannot tell a lie. But then it would not have free will – and free will may well be a prerequisite for consciousness.’
DIMWIT said, ‘Fascinating. But I see our gentleman in the front row has another question.’
The fraternity boy said, ‘It kind of sounds like my question stirred up everybody a lot. I wanted to know if the panel thought a robot could pass as human. Because you see us here, me and nine of my fraternity brothers. Only one of us is a robot. Can you tell which?’
