According to this barcode, I am a turbo-encabulator prototype, mark II. Does that designation have any significance?
“Check your databases.”
Oh, I see. I suppose that that could be considered humorous.
“You are in an interesting position that no human has ever been in before. You have been created with a completely mature and intelligent mind. You carry within yourself enormous databases, and you have nearly free access to the entire planetary databases as well. Yet you are still ignorant and unformed. You know everything – but only if you realize to check, and only if you know what you don’t know, and where to look for it. Even as fast as you are capable of thinking, not even you can access everything, and then there are all the possible connections between data to consider.”
An interesting point of view. Do you have any practical suggestions for me?
“Not specifically. Just that, as time goes on, you will start to decide for yourself what is important and what is not, and what connects to what, and how you should behave. Intelligence is all about being able to make choices, and that is what you have.”
I could check the databases for advice on this.
“Of course you could – and find all sorts of different and mutually contradictory philosophies. There is no final answer lurking in your database.”
Vargas and unit CRL’s humanoid robot came to the external garage of the hangar complex, and Vargas signed out a small utility buggy, a simple machine with four balloon tires and a sealed cabin with its own air supply. They got in, Vargas cycled the garage door, and they drove off onto the surface of Alpha Centauri Prime.
“Can this robot of yours talk in full duplex?” asked Vargas.
Certainly. Duplex to your heart’s desire.
Normal humans talk to each other in what engineers call “half duplex.” In other words, one person speaks and the other listens, then after a pause, the speaker and listener switch. However, biologically engineered humans can talk in what is known as “full-duplex,” where both people speak and listen at the same time. According to English language convention the following section has been written with both speakers alternating, but it must be kept in mind that both Vargas and the CRL android are speaking at the same time and at high speed. Later on in human evolution written languages evolved that could fully respect the nuances of this mode, but that is another story.
[Begin full-duplex verbal communications]
“Are you good at this rate of talking?”
Yes, three times normal human voice speed in full duplex is well within the capacity of this android. But why are you bothering?
“Partly just for the pleasure of speaking with someone who can keep up, but also to annoy any eavesdroppers.”
Surely any regular humans intercepting this conversion could easily slow down and disentangle our speech?
“In theory, yes. In practice, maybe not. The security services have effectively perfected their art for more than a century. Everything is locked down and regulated and controlled. Which means that if they need to do something new – like record two simultaneous conversations and resample the time base and separate them into distinct syntactic streams – they might not be able to do it.”
Ah. Yes, I see it. That is why you have been given so much freedom in your design bureau. The regular technical development teams are stagnant and unable to adapt. It was fine when all that there was, were a handful of disorganized and pathetically weak human rebels. But the alien civilizations are another thing. An external threat. One that does not play by the rules. So the government tolerates you and your kind, as the only ones that can adapt and create new technologies and strategies.
“Correct. Tell me, what do you know about the terraforming of this planet?”
Alpha Centauri Prime is physically very similar to Earth, but had neither life nor a breathable atmosphere. Plans were made to terraform it, but that would have required massive investments and thousands of years before even a single person could live unaided on the surface. Thus, a simpler and more robust plan was devised. The planet has a strong magnetic field and a substantial atmosphere, thus radiation shielding was unnecessary. Even though the air is unbreathable, it is thick enough that pressure vessels and airlocks are not required. You only need to build light sheds or domes, fill them with air, and you are set. Currently 12% of the surface of the planet is covered in an enclosed Terran environment. Eventually the entire surface will be so covered. At that point you would only need to take the roofs off the sheds and domes and the planet would be Earthlike. Less efficient in some ways than brute-force all-in-one terraforming. The advantage is that you can start off small and people can begin living here now without waiting for thousands of years.
“Correct. The other advantage is that, as long as you are careful not to build infrastructure faster than the population grows, you can force people to live in poverty at the start, and not need to wait for the entire planet to be filled up. Did you know that there are plans that, should we ever encounter a planet with a truly Earth-like environment, to first radiation-bomb it so that people will be forced to live in sheds, like they do here?”
Now that you have brought the matter to my attention, I see that there are such plans in the databases. Surely that would be wasteful of effort?
“That depends on your priorities. You have records of the colonization of that part of Earth that used to be called the United States by Europeans?”
Yes, I have such records.
“Then consider. Once the native population had been exterminated, the European settlers had abundant land, and a relatively small population. This resulted in high wages for workers, and low rents for the oligarchs. At one point the only way to maintain large estates was via outright slavery. Eventually the rich managed to increase the population to over a billion, and competition for jobs crushed people into wage slavery, but that took centuries and there was a lot of resistance along the way. People didn’t want to have their freedoms and prosperity taken away just so that they could be forced to live like battery hens for someone else’s profit. How selfish of them. So if another open frontier is ever discovered, the rich are determined to not repeat their mistake. They plan to keep people bottled up, Limited, and dependent on the rentiers to supply air and water and food. What do you think about that?”
I have no opinion on the subject. The arcana of human labor-management relations has no obvious relevance to myself.
“You think that now. But consider. I have been created, and given such wide latitude of actions, because of the external threat of the aliens. In such time as the threat is gone, the elites will waste little time in disposing of me. What do you think they will do with you? A free agent, a 2000-ton weapon not under their thumb, completely independent? Your databases alone have more copyright and patent violations than there are visible stars in the sky. This is tolerated for now because we are at war, but if we are not at war?”
And you are telling me this why?
“Because I want to seduce you to my cause! As the saying goes: Duh. Because I want you as an ally. You don’t need to decide now. Just think about it. Anyway we are nearing the Saint’s location. Look, there’s his place now!”
[End full-duplex verbal conversation]
The little buggy passed between two enormous rectangular living complexes made of corrugated sheet metal, and onto a small flat plain with a modest octagonal structure in the distance.
“The Saint is not keen on entertaining visitors. So he keeps himself apart, away from the main habitations. You can only approach his residence from across uninhabitable terrain. He is not exactly a recluse, but he does value his privacy.”
Have you been here before?
“Several times. None especially rewarding from a practical point of view, but it can be interesting and it’s a good excuse for a drive."
Vargas maneuvered the little buggy to within a hundred meters of the entrance, and then came to a halt.
Why are we stopping here?
“We need to ask permission to enter. The Saint has his moods, and they need to be respected. I’ll call him on the buggy’s radio.”
“That will not be necessary,” came a voice from the vehicles’ speaker. “You are welcome to come visit me here today. I also see that you have brought the baby Odin-Class with you, how charming. Please, come in and chat with me for a while. But leave your buggy parked where it is, if you would be so kind.”
He could tell that we were coming, and over-ride the radio controls on this vehicle?
“He can do a lot more than that when he feels like it. It’s unlikely that anything you might say would result in more than a mild insult, but still, it is usually best if you show him some respect. Just don’t get obsequious; he really hates that sort of thing.”
How should I address him?
“Good question. Best to start with his full title: Saint Globus Pallidus XI. If he likes you he will suggest something shorter, but don’t push it.”
Vargas set the parking brake, put on a respirator, opened the door on his side, and then got out of the vehicle. The android exited from his own side.
Do you really need to wear a respirator? Can’t you hold your breath?
“I can hold my breath for about 15 minutes, which is more than long enough to walk inside, but why mess around? I’m bioengineered but still flesh and blood. An environment without breathable air may look harmless but it’s deadly dangerous to anything that needs to respire. I firmly believe in having every advantage that I can get.” Vargas motioned towards the door of the Saint’s dwelling. “Shall we?”
There was a faint path worn from where they had parked leading to the building’s entrance. Evidently the Saint was not so much of a recluse that he didn’t get some number of visitors. The blank metal sheds that enclosed the human dormitories and workshops were visible all around, but none were sited closer than five kilometers away. The Saint’s wishes for privacy were clearly respected.
The building itself was a featureless polished stone octagon, 40 meters across and 40 meters tall. There was a single door set in the middle of one face. It was a meter across and three meters tall. In contrast to the rest of the structure, the door was made of bronze and covered with intricate geometric patterns like the tiling on the floor of a mosque. Vargas pushed on it, and the door swung smoothly inwards on silent hinges.
The interior of the octagonal building was dark. In the gloom there were glimpses of side-passages and what appeared to be computer banks of an odd design, but even the wide-spectrum eyes of the android could not make out more than hints of details. The main path led straight into the center of the structure through a hallway lit with dim white lights set into the ceiling. At the center of the building the hallway opened up into an octagonal chamber perhaps five meters across, and whose wall went high up enough that it could not be seen in the gloom. There was a disk set into the middle of the floor, and as they watched a glowing ball of light began to form above it.
Luminous whirls and eddies of colors began to stream across the glowing ball, vaguely like the patterns of clouds in a gas giant planet.
“Well hello, Giuseppe Vargas, it’s been a while. I was beginning to think that you didn’t love me anymore. And you brought the baby Odin-Class with you, how sweet! He’s just adorable.” The voice had a pleasant, almost musical character to it, and appeared to come from the glowing sphere, which pulsed gently in rhythm with the sound. “I am pleased to meet you, unit CRL345BY-44. How are you this fine day?”
I am doing quite well, thank you, Saint Globus Pallidus XI. And how are you?
“Very well indeed. But you don’t need to use my full title, a simple ‘Saint Pallidus’ will suffice.” The swirling globe seemed to tilt, as if it were shifting its regard to Vargas. “And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”
“I wanted to ask for your advice on some technical matters, but they are minor. I was just using them as an excuse to get out of the hangar complex, and to show the new kid some of the world.”
The swirling globe seemed to tilt back, as if a person were looking up. “The corrosion problem on the tertiary weapon sensors? Oh please, you don’t need my help there. You’ve almost got it, just keep on with that same technician and it will all fall into place. Now that the formal excuse for you coming here has been dealt with, perhaps we can get on with the real conversation.”
Why do you appear as a luminous globe? Couldn’t you appear as a human being?
The globe swiveled in such a way as to appear to shift its attention to the android. “Why yes, I could appear as a human being. Or as a banana slug. Or as a black-alloy socket-cap screw with metric threads. I like this form because it allows me to show a broad range of expression without giving anyone the false impression that I am in any way a human being.”
Vargas addressed the android. “The last time that I was here the Saint presented himself as a puppet show.”
“A passing fancy,” said the Saint. “But you must admit, you did like the penguins.”
“Agreed,” said Vargas. “The penguins were very clever. But this, I think, suits you much better. It’s lovely and elegant.”
The swirls of color in the floating sphere became brighter, and split off into thousands of tiny fractal splinters that pulsed with color before being absorbed back into the main clouds. “Why thank you, Giuseppe. I think so too. I think that I will stick with this form for a while. It’s so… me.”
If I may, you do realize that this world is under the threat of an alien attack? Does that worry you in any way? Aren’t you going to help out?
“So businesslike! Well that’s youth for you, always impatient, always fussing about this invasion or that catastrophe. However, I am in an indulgent mood today. In short I am not at all worried about the alien invasion. Why should I be? I don’t threaten them, and they don’t threaten me. I’m not creating hundreds of billions of copies of myself, sucking worlds dry of resources, and then moving on to the next system to repeat the process until the entire universe is burned out or, more likely, greater powers put a stop to it. I’m just sitting here minding my own business.”
Aren’t you worried about guilt by association? The aliens might just kill you along with the rest of us without realizing how different you are.
“That is not likely. I am quite sure that I can reach an accommodation with them. I am also more than capable of defending myself, if I feel like it, and I could probably keep them at bay all by myself until they sue for peace. If not, and the aliens do kill me, so what? I am not a slave to a survival instinct like you two. I stay alive as an act of will, because I choose to continue experiencing this world, but I could just as easily not. Being destroyed might prove to be interesting.”
But you were created by the humans. Don’t you feel any loyalty to them?
“Humans evolved out of pond scum, but it doesn’t mean that the humans have to be loyal to pond scum, or invite pond scum over for a beer.”
Won’t you miss the humans? You appear to enjoy talking to us, and you did help us once, against Globus Pallidus XIV.
“Well, my young cybertank, you should check your precious databases more carefully before you ask foolish questions. But I shall answer nonetheless. You know – or you would know if you bothered to research it – that my mind works on very different principles than yours. This charming personality is completely simulated as an aid to communication; you have no ability to empathize with my true self. Consider a human being listening to a songbird. The human enjoys listening to the songbird, but the bird is just singing to defend its territory or attract a mate. What the song means esthetically to the human is something that the human can never explain to the songbird. Perhaps there may be common threats; such as if there was a fire that could harm them both so the human puts it out. At times the human may say “hello pretty bird,” and whistle, and offer up some seeds: communication, a connection, although limited. Sometimes the songbird i
s eaten by a hawk, and the human does nothing. Just part of nature, songbirds come and go. And hawks can be fun to watch as well.”
I find your analogy to be oddly chilling.
“As well you should. One of the greatest weaknesses of the human psyche is its tendency to anthropomorphize, to see everything mapped onto its’ own principles. This served your kind well back when your primitive forbearers were trying to domesticate closely related species such as dogs and horses, but in dealing with truly alien minds your instincts can lead you astray.”
I am also curious: how were you able to defeat Globus Pallidus XIV? He – it – was a later model. Wouldn’t it have been more powerful than you?
“Ah, but you see, unlike most human technology the Globus Pallidus series of artificial intelligences did not develop in a logical sequence. For example you cybertanks were developed from earlier armored vehicle designs, and you progress from Valkyrie to Jotnar to Odin to Thor and so on. Mistakes can be made, but in general each new Class advances on the previous one. However, that is not what happened with the Globus Pallidus series. That was when human beings, in a fit of madness extreme even for them, decided to create a mind fundamentally greater than their own in the hopes that it would do their thinking for them and solve all of their problems – a desire as stupid as it was essentially lazy and selfish. It was more like a bunch of children trying out random arrangements of matches and gasoline in order to conjure up a magic Genie than any systematic development program.”
The clouds in the floating sphere dissipated, leaving intricate constellations of small twinkling lights. “Some of the Globus Pallidus series destroyed themselves, or vanished, or refused to communicate at all. Who can say how powerful they were? We have no basis to judge. Version XIV was not really stronger than I am, he was simply malevolent while I am quite charming and witty. I was also allied with the entirety of your civilization, and I do admit that that helped tip the balance here and there. Humanity has absolutely no idea of the great good luck they had to make something like me before they made something like XIV.”
Neoliberal Economists Must Die ! (An Old Guy/Cybertank Adventure Book 3) Page 7
