by Ted Peters
“I think I’ve got to pack my suitcase again,” Graham muttered to himself. “Right after I call Hurley.”
Chapter 82
Oxford
After stepping off the Heathrow bus at Gloucester Green, Leona walked eastward first on George Street, then on Broad Street passing Trinity College, then on Hollywood Street before turning north on Mansfield Road. She passed the sports ground before arriving at her destination, Excelsior College at the University of Oxford.
Professor John Blair stood up from behind his desk to greet his American visitor. Beneath the ear hooks on his glasses, bushes of graying temple hair sprouted out like feathers giving him the appearance of Winged Victory. He was dressed in a short-sleeved Tommy Bahama aloha shirt, plain white with a palm leaf pattern.
“Thank you, Doctor Blair, for receiving me on such short notice. I have some questions to pose,” said Leona.
“My pleasure, Doctor Foxx. I am always ready to discuss my research and other topics that could be of mutual interest. Won’t you sit down.”
Leona placed herself in an armed chair angled in front of the modest desk while Blair sat, swiveled, and leaned back in his desk chair. Soon they were engaged in a back ‘n’ forth. Blair restated his position, namely, that intelligence consists of a quantitative advance in computational capacity and that, whether in AI or IA form, it’s just around the technological corner. With this theory in mind, research should press forward toward the expansion of access to information.
“I’m just freezing,” announced Leona, grabbing each elbow with the opposite hand and twisting slightly. She then picked up a tissue and wiped a couple of beads of sweat off her forehead.
“Oh, should I turn on the AC?” asked Blair. Before receiving an answer, the professor reached toward his window unit, turned a dial, and paused until the air conditioner sent out its cooling breeze. “Now, that’s better, isn’t it?”
“Much better,” responded Leona. “I don’t know what the thermometer reads in Centigrade, but I’ll bet it’s 90 degrees Fahrenheit.”
“’Tis a scortcher, isn’t it! A bit unusual, this weather.”
“Indeed,” emphasized Leona. “Now, Doctor Blair, may I press you on one point? It seems to me that what we experience as intelligence is more than the accumulation of information. We human beings and perhaps other intelligent creatures, it seems to me, are capable of having insights. Rather than merely calculate, our minds make leaps. We imagine hypotheses and then we try to confirm or disprove these hypotheses by rallying evidence. Isn’t this more than super-calculation?”
“Just a complex form of calculation, I believe. Existing computers can answer human questions by searching a data base, parsing nuances, weighing possibilities, and providing a precise response. Today’s computers can do this better than most humans, even most scientists.”
“But,” Leona insisted, “we humans are capable of counter-factuals. We can imagine things that do not exist. We can imagine an orange elephant with two trunks, for example. A calculator, no matter how much information it has access to, is not capable of this. Am I right?”
“Imagining counter-factuals is not the same thing as knowing things. To be intelligent is to know things, true things. Smart computers know more things. The posthumans of the future will know so many things that we today will look to them like cave men look to us.”
“The problem with your theory, Doctor Blair, with all due respect, is that it does not account for our ability to think non-literally. Artificial intelligence is strictly literal, strictly factual, not inter-subjective. Let me give you a case in point. A few minutes ago I said something that was a flat lie. I hinted that I was freezing. You immediately knew that I was uncomfortable due to the 90 degree temperature, so you turned on the air conditioner. Had you taken me literally, you would have turned up the thermostat on the furnace. How can artificial intelligence distinguish between the truth and a lie at the literal level in order to deal with knowledge at the extra-literal level? Now, doesn’t this capacity make human intelligence superior?”
“I don’t see how a lie or any other counter-factual statement could in itself be a mark of intelligence. Or, at least an indispensable component of intelligence. Perhaps literal truth-telling by future cyborgs will mark a posthuman improvement over today’s lying by an untrustworthy human species. Posthumanity could mark a leap forward in honesty, don’t you think, Doctor Foxx?”
Leona paused. “What about jokes, Doctor Blair? Computers are more literal than fundamentalists. Unless you can see multiple meanings buried in the context, nothing appears funny. Let me try on an example. Are you a member of the Church of England?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Here’s how I define a member of the Church of England. An Anglican is a person who worships God, loves neighbor, advocates justice, strives for world peace, protects our environment; and does all of this without being tacky.”
“Tacky? What’s tacky?”
“Oh, it’s just an Americanism.”
“Doctor Foxx, I do not consider humor a mark of intelligence.”
Leona smiled. “I can see that. Please let me change the subject, Professor Blair. Tell me just how much hope do you place in TaiCom to lead the field of AI? And how realistic do you think the Transhumanist vision for the future is?”
At the mention of TaiCom, Blair winced. He paused. Then, he selectively ignored the TaiCom reference. “I believe that the Transhumanist vision is founded on solid computer theory and that advances in nanobiotech will eventually enable us to transcend our biological substrate and attain cybernetic immortality or, at least, radical life extension. Now, if you’ll excuse me Doctor Foxx, I have some other appointments I must attend to.”
After cordial good-byes, Leona departed and headed for Heathrow. She boarded the airport bus. Leona turned her head slightly when she felt something. Some kind of activity seemed to be taking place within her brain. Before her mind’s eye there appeared a note. To her surprise, she could read the note. It was a message. “I’ve found you,” said the note. It was signed, “Khalid.”
Had other bus passengers been looking at the Chicago pastor, they would have seen her silently laughing to herself.
Chapter 83
Heidelberg
On the morning of the 24th Graham departed his hotel on Bismarckplatz and entered the Hauptstrasse, the equivalent of Main Street in every nineteenth century American small town. But Heidelberg’s cobble-stone main street has been pressed down by the feet of pedestrians for eight hundred years. The American visitor was now in the oldest part of the romantic city, the Altstadt. His stroll took him past Perkeo, a coffee shop and restaurant named after a dwarf who once tended the giant wine cask in the castle. On his right he paused to admire the architecture of the German renaissance Hotel zum Ritter—a hotel for knights. Across the street from the Ritter stood the fifteenth century cathedral, the Heilige Geist Kirche, surrounded today by tourist booths selling Chinese made baseball caps and umbrellas with “Heidelberg” printed on them.
Having filled Leona’s prescription for coffees with snow ball pastries, Graham took his tray into the middle of Marktplatz and seated himself at a small round aluminum table. He sat facing the reddish stone of the fountain with his back to the Rosenthal fine china store. After a bite of pastry and a sip of coffee, he spread out the Frankfurter Allgemeinezeitung. This American visitor had no idea what he was reading, being limited to his native English language. When he noticed three sips later that the coffee level was going down in his cup, he began to wonder: when will Leona show up? Did I get the right day? The right time? Graham checked his watch and his memory. I think I’ve got it right.
A girl swirled her damp rag around the top of a just vacated table next to him. Then she brought her tub of dirty dishes toward where Graham was sitting. She filled his cup with fresh coffee. He continued to study the undecipherable German language newspaper in front of him.
“Fertig?” she asked him.
Graham, with his head down, sipping his coffee, mumbled: “What?”
“Are you done,” she said in English with a tone of impatience.
“No. I’m still waiting for a friend.”
“Wo is die Bedingung? Are you such a cheapskate that you won’t leave a poor Dienstmädchen a crumby tip?”
Graham suddenly realized that this young woman wearing an apron with her hair folded into her cap was, in fact, Leona. The buss girl grabbed the full cup of coffee while still standing and took a swallow. She nibbled on her snowball Kuchen, relishing the stunned and confused expression on Graham’s face.
“This snow ball is not as tasty as I’d hoped it would be,” she declared.
Graham simply stared at his presumptuous visitor.
“Did you read the article on the second page, near the bottom?” Leona asked the befuddled Graham.
“I don’t read German.”
“Whatya mean? You went to Princeton, for the sake of Bremerhaven! Didn’t you have to pass a German exam?”
“Remember, Lee, I told you I substituted Spanish for German.”
“Oh, of course. That’s Princeton, I guess. I got my German at Michigan State while doing my doctorate. I tried Russian too. Both are science languages. Gimmie Deutsch any day.”
In Graham’s mind he tried to sort out the conversation. Should I pursue this? He thought. No. I don’t want any more entanglement on this dumb stuff. Nor do I want to risk another insult.
Leona spoke. “The article reports a police investigation right here in Heidelberg. They found the body of a mutilated woman at the Hauptbanhhof, the main train station. She was in two suitcases, half of her severed limbs in each. Do you recognize the M.O.?”
“Ugly,” winced Graham. “Yes, I recognize it. No doubt Khalid Neshat’s in town. All the worse for romantic Heidelberg.” He looked up and made a feeble attempt to take control of the conversation. “Now, Lee, are you going to sit down? How long will you look like a table waitress?”
“We’ve got an appointment,” said Leona with an impertinent sigh, setting her coffee cup back down. She removed her cap and with a head shake dropped her hair to its usual shoulder length. She removed her apron, crumpled it, and threw it on the table. “Let’s go, Grammy. You can leave the paper here.”
“Aye, Aye, Admiral.” He saluted obsequiously.
“Shape up or you’ll be shipped out!” she ordered. Then, as Graham rose to his feet, the admiral looked up and into his hazel eyes. She spoke softly. “Thanks for coming, Grammy. I’m so very glad we’re together again.” She stood up on her toes and kissed the standing Graham on the cheek.
Graham felt all the ice inside melt and run down and out his shoes.
Chapter 84
Heidelberg
“We’re headed for Universitäts Platz,” Leona announced, while placing her right arm in the fold of Graham’s left. The two walked a few yards with a shared bounce, Leona smiling wildly. As they approached Augustinergasse, Leona spoke again. “The Augustinian monastery used to be located here. Martin Luther defended his position against indulgences on April 26, 1518. Didya git this at Princeton?”
“What happened at Princeton just doesn’t matter, Lee. You’re simply a better historian than I am.”
“Well, for that little lack in your memory you get to go to jail. See that door over there?” she said pointing. “That’s the student prison. For the two centuries prior to the First World War, misbehaving students were incarcerated. The culpable misbehavior was standard of course: drunkenness, pranks, missing exams, and forgetting important historical facts such as the date of the Heidelberg Disputation. I now arrest you!” Leona was chuckling out loud.
“Take me to your prison. Please!” Graham laughed in a silly manner.
“Not today. You’ll just have to suffer by staying free. We’ve got business ahead of us. See that white building? It’s the New University. By ‘new’ the Germans mean it was re-founded in 1805. The first founding was 1385, making it the oldest university in Germany. The first founder was Prince Elector Ruprecht the First; and the second was Karl Friedrich of Baden. That’s why it has the sorta dumb hyphenated name, Ruprecht-Karl Universität.”
“Who thinks the name is dumb?”
“I do. I don’t like names with hyphens.”
“Who cares what you think?”
“Well, certainly nobody here does.” Leona looked up and pointed. “Once into the courtyard we’ll turn to the building on the left. That’s where we’re going.”
“Do I get to ask where and why?”
Chapter 85
Heidelberg
Ten minutes later they were seated in the faculty office of Professor Hans-Georg Welker. On the way in, Graham had joked in a whisper about this hyphenated name; but Leona didn’t take the time to laugh. In one movement, so it seemed, Professor Welker rose out of his chair and swept effortlessly around his imposing desk with an open hand of greeting. At sixty-one, his gait and shake were firm. His robust barrel chest was covered by a navy, camel, and cream argyle sweater vest, which in turn was partially covered by a beige tweed jacket. No necktie. Most striking were his sparkling blue eyes, looking out above his half spectacles sitting just above the end of his nose. The neatly trimmed gray mustache stretched nearly half inch beyond each corner of his mouth, giving the impression of a nineteenth century countenance.
All three then filled their chairs along with their tea cups and proceeded with the appropriate introductions. Leona thanked the Heidelberg professor for his willingness to make time for this appointment. She explained that the two visitors wanted to gain a better grasp on the theoretical issues surrounding Transhumanism. This understanding could, she said, have significant consequences. She did not specify those consequences.
Heidelberg is a good place to speculate about such matters. Homo erectus heidelbergensis—that’s Heidelberg Man—was discovered in a gravel pit near here. This suggests our near-human ancestors enjoyed this romantic location along the Neckar River six hundred thousand years ago. Heidelberg Man gave birth to Neanterthals, Denisovans, and us, modern humans. I suppose he had help from Heidelberg Woman too, but we have not found her remains. Yet.
“Now, we’re speculating about the future of our species. Among other fields, we study neuro-science here. We study how the brain works, how it provides the capacity for intelligent reasoning. Past and present—pre-human and posthuman—both here in romantic Heidelberg.”
Graham and Leona purred appropriately.
“It’s almost time for lunch,” announced the professor. “What we’re talking about is too important to drop now. Let me suggest I walk you to a student locale, where we can enjoy some beer and bockwurst. I have a bit more to say; and it will come out better if I have a lubricated voice.”
Chapter 86
Heidelberg
Graham and Leona readily accepted the invitation. The three marched through the narrow streets with the professor’s guidance. The group walked past Karlsplatz, past Zum Zeppl, and turned in at Zum Roten Ochsen—the Red Ox—an old student beer hangout. A hostess seated them near the front wall at a wooden table. The table’s surface was covered with graffiti, with carvings and etchings from inebriated youths who were either about to enter the student prison or who had just been released. From the ceiling dangled ram horns. On the wall shelf stood a row of artistic beer mugs, upside down. A complex coat of arms with the word ‘Pfingsten’ was carved into a sidewall. Other walls were covered with photos. One large photo dated from 1887 and showed two young princes arm in arm: Prince Max and Prince Ludwig. The professor ordered beer, sausage, and sauerkraut for their table. Soon the conversation re-commenced.
“The problem with the Transhumanists is threefold,” announced Professor Welker. “First, they overlook a firmly established theological principle, namely, a creation cannot be more intelligent than its creator. Our world, said the medieval scholastics, demonstrates intelligence. It simply could not have come into being at the
hand of any creator who is less intelligent than its creatures. It took an intelligent God to create a rational world. No one would expect worldly intelligence to exceed divine intelligence.”
“But many Transhumanists are atheists,” interjected Graham. “They don’t believe in divine intelligence. The only intelligence they believe in is human.”
“I’m well aware of this,” grumbled the professor. “Still, this was Darwin’s mistake; and it’s one of the reasons Darwin’s otherwise informative theory has prompted such vigorous opposition. Darwin thought that over time simple organisms could give rise step-by-step to complex organisms; rocks could evolve into brains. And, Darwin added, all this could happen by natural selection without the guidance of an intelligent creator. Until someone demonstrates that an unintelligent creator can bring an intelligent creature into existence, I for one cannot believe it. If it’s never happened before, I don’t see how Transhumanists can be confident they’ll be the first to accomplish it.”
“Are you a member of the Intelligent Design school that denies Darwinian evolution?” asked Graham.
“Oh, gosh no!” responded Welker. “I believe Darwin’s theory of species evolution via natural selection is the best explanation we’ve got. It’s good science. Even so, only intelligence can beget intelligence, even if it takes a long time to develop.”
Graham and Leona looked intently at the professor, waiting for what would follow.
“And, secondly,” Welker continued, “we have learned from history what can go wrong when a misguided society tries to create the super-human. Nietzsche and the Nazis tried to create the Űbermensch, the Superman, recall. Once this ideal was projected, then every average or below average person was dubbed inferior. To be less than the Űbermensch meant your life is not worth living. A doctrine arose: persons with lives-not-worth-living should be met with death before they can make babies and pass their inferiority to the next generation. Gas chambers became the place for those who might retard our progress toward the super-human. That was the Nazi way. I want to avoid seeing this happen again.”
