“Oh, that’s nothing to do with us,” Corrigan replied. “It’s another country up there. I’m from the Republic, remember.”
Minsky pulled a face. “I’m not sure I noticed much of a difference. Down there, if you’re an American and don’t know the price of anything, you’re fair game.”
“The lads have to make a living,” Corrigan said unapologetically, refusing to be provoked.
“You mean it isn’t true, what the song says?” Evelyn put in. “‘When Irish eyes are smiling . . .’?”
“You’ve probably been ripped off,” Minsky completed with a snort. Corrigan laughed. Minsky glanced at his watch. “Anyway, I have to dash in a few minutes. So I gather you’ve been to see Jenny Leddel.”
“Perseus is coming along nicely,” Corrigan said. “Evelyn got a bit spooked, though.”
“There was something eerie about it.” She shivered and shook her head.
Minsky smiled. “Yes. It gets a lot of people like that. It makes them wonder if we’re inside someone else’s AI experiment in the same kind of way.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Evelyn said, astonished. Minsky’s smile widened.
“The approach seems to be working,” Corrigan observed. He glanced at Evelyn. “Setting it up with the. potential to learn, and then letting it interact with an environment.”
“Jenny should have let Perseus start out as more of an infant,” Minsky commented. “There are still too many defined attributes. Instead of telling him what a sword is for, let him wave one about and hit things with it, and find out for himself. That way, he might even discover things that programmers never think to include—such as, that they make good back-scratchers.”
Corrigan related the episode of Perseus and the lamp. Minsky nodded emphatically.
“Which makes my point. He should have been allowed to read picture books and fairy tales. Then he would have been familiar with genies and known what to do.”
Evelyn was about to ask if he meant literally exposing a computer to the processes that a child goes through, say, by equipping it with appendages of some kind to manipulate things, but Minsky preempted her. Corrigan was used to his sometimes disorienting habit of getting people out of step in a conversation by answering questions before they were asked.
“Computers aren’t very good at interfacing with the real world and extracting the information they need. We have the advantage of this enormous knowledge-base that we call ‘common sense,’ which enables us to make subtle, context-based connections. That’s what makes people so good at things like comprehending metaphors: we’re wired to see quickly what matters and what doesn’t. Recognizing faces is another good example.” He waved a hand as he collected together the paper plate, coffee cup, and remains of his sandwich. “Computers are better at tasks that don’t require any deep familiarity with what’s out there—ones that can be dealt with in relative isolation, algorithmically.”
“Computers interact better with other computers,” Evelyn said.
“Yes. Quite.” Minsky nodded. “So what you do is plug your infant into another computer that’s pretending to be a world. But getting a virtual world to be real enough is another matter.”
Corrigan clapped his hands as if that was a cue that he had been waiting for. “And that’s why we’re doing what we’re doing at CLC in the meantime,” he told Evelyn. “Learning how to make better virtual worlds. So now you can see where the work you’ll be doing fits in. Believe me, it’s going to be a lot of fun.”
“Promise?” she said teasingly.
Corrigan spread his hands in appeal and turned toward Minsky. “Look. Aren’t the Irish eyes smiling?”
“You’re going to be ripped off,” Minsky said to Evelyn, shrugging.
But Eric Shipley was in a far-from-fun mood when Corrigan got back to Pittsburgh the next day. “Pinder has been having visitors from California and D.C.” he told Corrigan. “Space Defense Command, and DOD. High-level stuff. Something’s in the wind. I don’t like the feel of it.”
Corrigan remained unperturbed. “Politics and science are inseparable these days, Eric. You’ve got to move with the times. This could be an impending moment of opportunity.”
“Well, we’ll find out soon enough,” Shipley replied. “Pinder has called a major meeting to review progress and plans for the whole Pinocchio program. Tomorrow morning in town, nine o’clock sharp.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jason Pinder opened the meeting, which was held in one of the conference rooms in the corporate headquarters building on First Avenue. He was slight and wiry in build, and with his short, straight, sandy hair, clipped mustache, and invariable habit of dressing in conventional suits of gray, tan, or brown, had always put Corrigan in mind of a retired British army officer or a schoolmaster. But the mild gray eyes turned out to be a deceptive front for a mind as compulsively restless as a computer’s registers, ceaselessly analyzing, shuffling, and sorting in search of better options. Not that this came as any great surprise. Anyone who had made it to the upper ranks of a leading-edge company like CLC could be assumed to possess the requisite qualities.
Next to him, crisp and businesslike in a black suit and snowy shirt, was the swarthy, curly-haired figure of John Velucci, executive director of CLC’s Legal Department. “Tell me why he’s here,” Shipley muttered to Corrigan as they sat down. “Want to know what I think? Whatever this is all about has already been decided. The meeting is to tell us the way it is.”
“You’re too suspicious, you know, Eric,” Corrigan answered. But the words were automatic. For once, even Corrigan’s manner was curious and restrained.
Also present from CLC were Pinder’s deputy, Peter Quell; Tom Hatcher, Corrigan’s software supervisor on the Pinocchio program; and a hardware wizard called Barry Neinst. Neinst was described on the organizational charts as responsible for “Advanced Processing,” and appeared on the bar of loosely affiliated names, connecting vertically to Pinder’s, that was tagged collectively “Direct Neural Coupling.” What this really meant was obscure, and in practice he led a somewhat nomadic existence, wandering between Shipley’s DINS section, the MIMIC/Pinocchio group headed by Corrigan, and a collection of graphics specialists known as “Interactive Imagery.” This latter group was represented by Ivy Dupale, a short, bouncy, frizzy-haired brunette who had been put in charge as a temporary measure eighteen months previously, and the situation was never regularized or revised.
There were four people from the Space Defense Command’s Operations Training & Simulator Center at Inglewood: Henry Wernheim, solid, craggy, with silver, wavy hair and steely eyes, the director; Frank Tyron, lean, tanned, and bespectacled, project manager of the VIV program (VIsion & Voice head-mounted assembly); and two of his technical support people: Joan Sutton and Harry Morgen.
After making the introductions, Pinder opened, addressing himself principally to the side of the table where the CLC people were sitting.
“I don’t have to tell you that the field we’re in is an exciting one, and one that is crucial to some of the most important developments going on in the world today. That includes the public and private space programs that are currently coming together here, across in Europe, and in Japan.” He paused, allowing a suitably serious note to assert itself. “Hence, we can expect a lot of competition worldwide, both in terms of the funding being made available, and of the caliber of talent that we’ll be up against. And, indeed, we see a lot of that happening already. What it means is that we’re going to have to work extra hard and move fast just to stay in the same relative place. What it means even more is that we at CLC are going to need, and will appreciate, all the help we can get.” He glanced along the other side of the table to indicate the visitors. “I am pleased to be able to inform you that, as a result of recent negotiations, we now have an opportunity to benefit from some very substantial help indeed, from a solid, trustworthy direction.”
“Here it comes,” Shipley murmured by Corrigan’s si
de. “That was the sugarcoating.”
To the debt “But he could be right.”
On Corrigan’s other side, Tom Hatcher and Ivy Dupale exchanged what-do-you-think looks. Just at that moment, neither of them seemed to be especially thinking anything. Beyond them Barry Neinst remained semi-oblivious in a world of his own, probably involving parallel arrays and pipeline architectures.
Pinder continued, “Over the last few weeks, Ken Endelmyer has had us going through some hard numbers, reviewing the progress and future prospects for Pinocchio. As you all know, the tentative plan has been to proceed to Pinocchio Two, or ‘Son of Pinocchio,’ as it has come to be known informally: extension of DNC into the pons, plus the addition of speech and acoustics.” Shipley nudged Corrigan softly with his elbow. The word “tentative” had never been used previously. For the past year at least, Pinocchio Two had been firm.
Pinder glanced around briefly. “The problem with it, however, is the long lead time that we’re talking about: two to three years by the best estimates, which puts us into 2009-2010. And vision would come even later, assuming further extension to the thalamus.” He looked at Corrigan and raised a hand, lightening the moment by making as if he expected Corrigan to protest. “Okay, Joe, I know you worked a miracle in getting Pinocchio One up a year ahead of schedule. But that’s not an experience the corporation can bet on happening every time.”
His voice reverted to its more serious note. “So the company has decided to add a second string to our bow that will reduce the risk of being left with nothing on the international scene three years from now. What we’re going to do, instead of relying on Pinocchio Two totally, is initiate a program to run in parallel that will add vision and acoustics now, as a hybrid system. That will give us experience of operating with vision sooner rather than later. Also, we’re guaranteed something to show, farther down the line.” He looked around to invite comments.
“How do you mean, hybrid?” Hatcher asked. There was only one plausible way. “With DNC tactile into the medulla, and using the regular sensory apparatus for vision and voice?”
Pinder nodded. “Just that. Combine the Pinocchio One interface with the VIV system that SDC has produced. It’s perfect for the job. Frank Tyron here is the project manager of the team that developed it. The Space Defense Command has a lot of interest in the outcome too, which means that the ground is all prepared for some good cooperation. They’re eager to get started. So, I’m sure, are all of us. We’ve even got a project designation: EVIE. Extended Virtual Interactive Environment.”
There was some shifting and shuffling on the CLC side of the table. The SDC people waited calmly, giving the impression that they had known more about all this to begin with.
“Where will this alternative line be located?” Corrigan asked finally. “Here? In California? A bit at each? What?”
“We’ve talked about that,” Pinder replied. “It would fragment things too much to have it spread out. VIV development is complete, so there isn’t much reason to have any of this in California. So it looks like it’ll be right here, in Pittsburgh. Frank has agreed to relocate here for the duration, and will head up a liaison group from SDC to supervise VIV integration.”
“It will stay under CLC’s control, then?” Corrigan said.
“Oh, no question.” Pinder nodded reassuringly.
Shipley, however, was less sanguine. “What about the plans for expanding neurophysiology?” he asked. “How will they be affected? Are we still going to hire Evelyn Vance from Harvard?”
“Of course,” Pinder answered. “Nothing’s changed. As I said, Pinocchio Two will carry on in parallel. The difference now is that it can be run without the pressure to produce results to order—the way research ought to be.”
Shipley detected something devious nevertheless. “So where will she fit in?” he asked. The intention had been that Evelyn would join DINS initially, with the possibility of later moving to a yet-to-be-established autonomous neurophysiology section. That was the group that Corrigan had hinted she might end up heading.
Pinder showed his hands. “Well, naturally we’ve had to reexamine some things to accommodate the new opportunities.” So something had changed. “EVIE will consist of wedding VIV to Pinocchio One, which will require Frank’s people and Joe’s. Pinocchio Two, which is what Evelyn Vance is being brought in for, will be an extension of it. Therefore, it seems to me, she ought to start out as part of that general group, rather than with DINS. You’ll be busy enough dividing your time between both teams anyhow, Eric, without taking on more at this stage.”
So there it was: Shipley would not be getting Evelyn as he had been led to believe. He didn’t seem especially surprised. The rest of the meeting passed with a more detailed airing of goals, aims, and first guesses for completion dates.
When they talked it over in the lab afterward, Shipley was less stoic than he had appeared earlier. “I’ve felt this kind of atmosphere before,” he told Corrigan. “It’s the first step to politicizing the territory. This started out as a line of pure research. Now the science is going to take a back seat.”
“Ah, come on, now, Eric, and admit that you’re just sore about Evelyn being switched out of DINS,” Corrigan said. “I think it was a bit mean too, if you want to know the truth, but I’m guessing that Jason had his orders.”
“Hell, you know I’m not interested in those kinds of games,” Shipley told him. “But I think you should watch out. Tyron has got ‘political animal’ stamped all over him. Didn’t it strike you as significant that with all these changes, there still isn’t a clearly defined slot heading up DNC? It’s still as vague a mess as it was before.”
Corrigan shook his head. “You’ve got it the wrong way around, Eric. Think about it. This will allow some sound consolidation on Pinocchio Two—the chance to do it right. You’ve got to agree that this hybrid idea is a bit of a mishmash. I mean, in the long term where can it lead? When P-Two expands to take in vision, what’s left for the hybrid? Then, I’m a-thinking, it will be Frank-me-boy who’ll be finding himself with nowhere to go.”
Shipley remained unmoved by Corrigan’s confident optimism. “We’ll see,” he replied neutrally.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Evelyn’s position was confirmed, and a month later she moved from Boston to a rented apartment that Ivy Dupale helped her find in Aspinall, on the north bank of the Allegheny River. One of the better-preserved older districts of quaint streets with traditional stores and houses, it suited Evelyn’s taste and was conveniently close to Blawnox.
Evelyn soon became good friends with Ivy, and she and Corrigan continued seeing each other out of working hours. They were well matched to each other’s needs. He, on his way up and all set to fly, had an appreciative and willing admirer; she, the emerged fledgling, found a guide and protector. They sampled the restaurants, from the best French at Cafe Allegro on the Southside heights overlooking the Monongahela River, to the traditionally romantic, old-stone-built Hyeholde, set in a wooded estate out near the old airport. They toured the bars, took in the zoo, the theaters, and did the round of Pittsburgh’s museums. Some weekends they spent at his place, some at hers.
Tyron and his group from SDC installed themselves in space provided at Blawnox, and work commenced on the initial phases of EVIE. The new, more comprehensive interface warranted going for a greater degree of realism than had been justified with MIMIC. Accordingly, Ivy Dupale’s graphics group were given the go-ahead to enhance Pinocchio with an upgrade that had been in abeyance for some time: the addition of “Personal Attribute Files.”
The hologram figure generated by Pinocchio was not a representation of anyone in particular, but simply a generic human form with rudimentary features and attire. The PAFs were lists of data descriptors specifying the features and physical appearance, build, and dress of an actual person: Corrigan, say, or anyone else on the research team. An individual’s PAF could be superposed on the generic Pinocchio form to create a lifelike miniature o
f whoever was coupled into the system at a given time—or, just for the fun of it, of anyone else whose file was in the system. Having one’s PAF compiled and filed for Pinocchio became something of a fad around the company, and most of the senior executives managed to find some pretext for stopping by to see their analogs cavorting in various simulated environments.
Then, one day, Therese Loel of the Engineering Systems Group, who had been one of the party that visited SDC in California, approached Pinder with a request. ESG was the “specials” part of Pinder’s domain: a facility within the R & D division for designing and building customer-specified systems to order. In this it came halfway between one of CLC’s regular manufacturing divisions, who made and sold standard products, and R & D proper, which was funded either internally or under specific research agreements contracted outside. Therese had talked briefly about EVIE to some of her acquaintances at Feller & Faber, a major international client of ESG’s based in New York and involved in prestige marketing. CLC had supplied a package of AI-based learning software to track and predict market trends, which had proved quite successful; now, some people at Feller & Faber wanted to learn more about this new development and where it might be pointing. Could Pinder arrange for someone who knew more about the subject than she did to accompany ESG’s sales personnel on a visit to the customer and give them an overview?
Pinder was keen to spread the word about the new venture, and agreed. There were really only three people who knew enough about both the Pinocchio and VIV aspects that together composed EVIE: Corrigan, Eric Shipley, and Frank Tyron. However, Shipley’s disinterest in anything connected with selling or publicity was notorious, which ruled him out. Tyron was fully committed, and in any case could hardly be used to promote CLC’s private interests since he was not an employee. And that left only one. Accordingly, Pinder called Corrigan over to his office, filled him in on the situation, and told him to get in touch with the ESG sales executive assigned to the account, Henry Glinberg, who would make the arrangements.
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