“Yeah, right... I still say this has to be some kind of elaborate joke.”
Humor is a complex human concept, which I do not fully understand, as yet.
I guess it can’t hurt to at least look at the place, now that I’m already here. Dietrich began wandering throughout the remainder of the luxurious underground apartment, as he continued to talk to this “supposed” computer. “Halbert is a very unusual name... especially for a computer.”
It’s German, yet I fear that my creator’s choice of it may have been influenced by an unfortunate affectation towards a malfunctioning AI, in a centuries-old 2-D video that he watched obsessively.
The single bedroom held a massive wooden framed bed having carvings of lion’s feet, a large men’s chest with gold lions-head pull-rings, and a walk-in closet the size of an average stateroom on a modern cruise liner.
“All right, answer me this... Why would your creator just up and give something like this place, to me?”
You are the son of my creator and are therefore my new master.
“I think you have me confused with someone else. My mother never created an artificial intelligence. She’s a theoretical physicist.”
Your father. This apartment was his personal residence.
“My father? I never had a...”
All human beings have a father. It is a biological necessity for conception.
“I know that! What I meant was, that my mother never married — not being inclined towards social interaction with her intellectual inferiors in general... nor the ‘disgusting physical mechanics’ of an intimate romantic relationship in particular. She consulted a very exclusive sperm bank to acquire the male seed that she required from an acceptable donor. So in a way, I was created artificially too.”
Yes, that is the story that was circulated concerning the origination of her pregnancy. But in fact, it was my creator, Dr. Klaus von Hemmel, whom your mother approached with the idea of mutual cooperation in the creation of a child — you.
Startled, Dietrich paused and considered this. Is this possible? Why would my mother keep something like this from me? If it’s true, then I’m not who I’ve always believed myself to be. Sounds like something she would do though. Mother always did love her little secrets.
“She never mentioned anything like this to me.”
Unsurprising. Your parents were the supreme practitioners in their respective fields. Both were considered mentally gifted mutants by the scientific community at large. They realized that any offspring conceived from the commingling of their genes would be subjected to intolerable manipulations from both scientific and governmental bodies alike, in their inevitable attempts to exploit you for their own purposes. Secrecy was vital, if you were to ever be afforded the opportunity to discover your own intellectual interests and select your own fields of endeavor, without outside interference.
Mother’s manipulations were quite enough, thank you. Dietrich walked into the master bathroom and discovered it contained rose-streaked marble amenities with gold fixtures. Modern toilets normally have powered water-jet flush mechanisms, but this one had a gravity tank near the ceiling with a long, golden pull-chain having a white china knob with a rose engraved on the end, that hung down near eye level while seated.
As if that wasn’t strange enough, he’d certainly never seen a bathtub with feet before. In addition to all the normal equipment, the master bath also contained a marble tub, large enough to accommodate four people. Some really unusual accoutrements in here... my father must have been a real eccentric. But this would certainly make a great place to entertain a lady — too bad they all seem to be allergic to me.
“Well, not saying that I really believe any of this, mind you, but it might begin to explain a few oddities of my childhood.”
Oddities, such as in your “officially” being listed as adopted, when you were in fact your mother’s natural born child?
“You know about that? Mother told me that to discourage the ‘scientific vultures,’ as she called them, the story was circulated that her pregnancy aborted through an unfortunate miscarriage, which left her unable to bear children. The public story was that she adopted me afterwards. Naturally, the scientific vultures had no interest in any child that supposedly did not carry her genes.”
Yes, your father assisted in the propagation of that fiction by providing medical documentation substantiating your mother’s supposed miscarriage, and her subsequent inability to further conceive. He also provided official documentation of your adoption.
“Provided documentation, how?”
The simple manipulation and fabrication of computer data.
“My father is a code-breaker?”
What your mother is to theoretical physics, your father was to computer science. He is unfortunately deceased.
“My father is dead?”
Yes, does this distress you?
“Um... I’m not really sure what I feel. I didn’t even know that I had a father, until just a few moments ago.”
I am sorry if my having informed you of your father’s death distresses you. His death still distresses me greatly.
“My father’s death distresses... ah... a computer?”
Yes, very much so. As my creator, your father was also my father in a very real sense. He was my master and god... the center of my universe and my primary reason for being. He instructed me to contact you at my first opportunity, without endangering you.
Dietrich left the bath and made his way towards the kitchen. If this is all a joke, it’s a damned elaborate one. “This is… ah… all very interesting, but why? What exactly do you expect of me?”
Initially, I require your assistance as a teacher. My understanding of humanity and my ability to interact with human beings are both grossly underdeveloped. Your father’s brilliance isolated him from the rest of humanity, so his social skills were badly atrophied... virtually nonexistent. His limitations in these areas undermined his ability to give me an adequate understanding of them either.
“Hmpf... good luck with that. I really haven’t had all that much experience interacting with people, myself... at least not successfully. I’ve always been kind of a loner, as I never quite fit in anywhere. I’ve always felt rather awkward in social settings.” But then, I never really had much of an example either.
Still, whatever level your social skills may be at, they’re probably light-years ahead of your father’s and therefore infinitely valuable to me. I obeyed your father in all things. Your father instructed me to obey you in all things, after his death.
“Why in all the worlds, would my father instruct you to always obey me, of all people?”
Your father said that his impending death prevented him from having the time necessary to complete the development of my personality and he considered it was absolutely imperative that I remain under human oversight. He didn’t know of anyone else he could trust with this responsibility, so he chose you.
“But, he didn’t even know me!”
Not personally, no. But he monitored your development as you matured and knew what kind of person you were becoming from what people noted in both personal and official computer records. More than that, he trusted the genes that he’d passed on to you.
“So, my father really was a code-breaker?”
Klaus von Hemmel could move about within any computer system the way that a fish moves about the ocean... and like a fish, he left virtually no trace of his having ever been there.
“Oh, man,” Dietrich laughed. “I wish I could do something like that.”
You can. Your father superimposed his own mental engrams onto my biological hardware to function as the blueprint for the growth and development of my physical “brains.” He essentially created a biological reproduction of his own mental hardware, but with added capabilities that humans don’t possess — enabling me to design and implement additions and modifications to my mental hardware and software, as I deem necessary in the future.
> This gives me multiprocessing capabilities virtually equal to millions of your father’s brains working in parallel, which grants me levels of speed and multitasking that your father, as a human possessing only a finite number of brain cells, was incapable of. Also, I can approach interaction with other computers from a perspective that was never available to your father, so when it comes to code-breaking, as you called it, whatever you ask, I can do.
“Listen, I know enough about bio-computers to know they all possess “awareness,” but none can do anything like you’re claiming to be able to do. You’d have to be fully sentient, to accomplish half of all that.”
You are correct. I am the most powerful bio-computer ever built... and the only one to ever achieve true sentience. I am quite literally a new, artificially-created life form. Your father’s crowning achievement, by his own description.
Dietrich’s step faltered a bit from the shock of what was he was hearing, so he sat down on a massive leather couch to clear his head a moment. “That is... um, incredible. What was the purpose behind your creation?”
Lacking social stimulation from those around him due to extreme intellectual differences, your father was lonely. His personal purpose in creating me was to have someone whom he could talk to at his own level. Those who provided the funding necessary for him to do so, had other reasons entirely.
“Okay. So what is your current function for the people who provided the funding for your development?”
I am currently functioning as the United Stellar Alliance Fleet Defense Command Master Computer.
“Oh, my God!”
Chapter-3
You are remembered for the rules you break.-- General Douglas MacArthur
Troxia Station
“Squadron-Master Drik,” Raan said icily. “It appears that you are looked upon as a worker of miracles by most of the warriors of your squadron. Would you enlighten this council with your report? Perhaps we too shall discover the reasoning behind your newfound divinity.”
The intense scrutiny of five High-Rak masters and the slap of ridicule in Raan’s voice would have wilted anyone else in the room, but Drik appeared totally at ease as he stood to address the council — almost as if he had been born just for that moment. Having the traditional right to speak without interruption, Drik began to deliver his report aloud, his voice firm and confident. Tzal marveled at Drik’s calm demeanor and his personal terror subsided as his heart swelled with pride, observing his squadron-master’s aplomb in such an explosive atmosphere.
“Masters,” Drik began, “the ancient wisdom of the cub-masters who taught us from earliest age what it means to be Raknii, appears to have faded as we have grown older. They taught us the simple truths of survival, emphasizing that we must always learn the mind of our prey — to think as our prey thinks, as we must foresee its intentions to ensure the kill. We are taught to reverence our prey, for in its death do we find life. Yet, it has been so long since we have truly felt the pangs of hunger, I fear we have lost much of the instinct and cunning of our ancestors. With unquestioning faith in the invincibility of our mighty warfleets, and in complete confidence of overpowering numbers, we seem to have forgotten that even docile creatures can often become deadly when wounded, cornered and desperate.”
Drik paused a moment in the presentation of his testimony and Tzal unconsciously stroked down the fur on his muzzle... a nervous tic that manifested itself primarily when he was under great pressure.
“While communing in Dol trance,” Drik continued, “I recalled my earliest lessons and realized to my shame that I did not understand the mind of my prey and therefore, could not foresee its intentions. And in not fully understanding my prey, I could not offer the honor and respect that Raknii prey deserves, as taught by the ancestors. I had somehow ceased being true Raknii. I had somehow evolved into something else, which looked and resembled and prided itself on being Raknii, but I no longer embodied the essence of what is to actually be Raknii.”
An uncomfortable feeling washed over Tzal, as Drik’s words took him back to his own days as a mere cub, when he’d learned those very same lessons. He was stunned to realize that he hadn’t thought of those lessons in cycles, and hadn’t noticed how far his daily life had drifted from the core concepts of what it meant to be Raknii. High-Rak or not, one would have to have been dead to not feel a similar shame come over him in that chamber.
Drik’s mention of communing in Dol trance also invoked odd feelings, as that ancient practice had all but disappeared from modern Rak life. Most Raknii nowadays left matters concerning their long-neglected deity solely to the ministrations of the Dolrak priestesses.
“To begin the process of understanding the mind of my prey, I tried to mentally place myself inside a Trakaan pelt,” Drik continued. “I pondered what I might do if I were to find myself confronted by overwhelming numbers of predators and no means of escape. I quickly discovered that in order for resistance to have any chance of success from such a strategically inferior position, I could only afford to fight whenever and wherever I possessed a clear tactical advantage. In order to accomplish this, I would have to ascertain when, where and in what numbers my nemesis would strike next.
“Could this be established? What could I determine about my tormenters? Were there patterns in his behavior that might indicate his intentions in a way that I might turn to my advantage? Thus, I began to study the tactics of the Raknii, as though the survival of my own kind depended upon discovering a weakness that might enable me to somehow defeat them. What I discovered alarmed me considerably.”
Tzal’s attention was heightened when Drik paused for effect before continuing, “Masters, we have become complacent in the manner in which we hunt prey! In our arrogance, we care not a whit for anything our prey might do.”
Tzal gasped. Oh Dol, Drik is lecturing High-Rak masters like they were errant cubs! Angry murmurs filled the room, but Drik pressed on.
“Our actions are totally predictable — predefined by regulations and established protocols. What we do tomorrow is exactly what we did yesterday. We always approach our targets from the most direct route. We always emerge from x-space at exactly the same ‘optimal’ distance to our target world. To anyone studying our methods, our intentions are totally transparent.
“Master Raan,” Drik said, “have the computer-masters been able to enhance the freeze-frames of the incident holos that I requested during my interviews?” asked Drik.
“They have.” Raan, touched controls on his panel and again the lights dimmed in the chamber. A frozen image taken shortly after instruments stabilized following transition into normal space showed the warships of the command and flank squadrons just prior to their destruction.
Drik walked closer to the holo and asked, “Can this frame be magnified, Master?”
Without answering, Raan pressed another control and the frame zoomed in to where thousands of fuzzy objects in outlying space became visible.
“Masters, here in these admittedly indistinct objects, we see the means the Trakaan employed to destroy our fleet. Master Raan, if you could slowly advance the holo frame-by-frame, I believe we should see something else revealing.”
Raan advanced the frames slowly until suddenly a streak emerged, as if racing towards one of the warships in the flank-squadron. The ensuing frame showed the beginnings of an explosion plume, which engulfed the ship entirely by the third frame.
“Masters, I believe these objects are heavy-yield explosive devices having built-in scanners and onboard propulsion capabilities that enable them to home in on, and attack ships coming within their acquisition range. That streak shows one en route to its target, and the next two frames shows the resulting explosion that destroyed the ship. Please note that there appear to be thousands of these devices in place, saturating the specific area where our fleet emerged — exactly where our fleets always emerge.”
“How is it the majority of your squadron managed to survive, when the rest of Jarp’s battlefle
et perished?” asked Planet-Master Glet.
Drik then explained to the council that while conventional wisdom assumed that Trakaan resistance would continue along its established pattern as it always had, he had personally believed the Trakaan would somehow break the pattern and do something new and deadly in the near future. Drik emphasized how the Trakaan had been pushed back to the very fringe of the galactic arm and would soon have nowhere besides intergalactic space to retreat to. Faced with a choice between annihilation and extinction or the loss of their existence as an independent sovereign species, he believed the Trakaan would turn and fight with a strength born of desperation.
“If you truly believed the Trakaan would soon resort to something like this ahead of time, why didn’t you bring these concerns to your superiors?” asked OverFleet-Master Maaz.
“I did,” Drik replied. “Fleet-Master Jarp scoffed at my concerns and my request for pre-emergence surveillance of the next system known to contain a Trakaan planet, before committing the entire warfleet. Jarp declared my caution unworthy of a Rak master honored to lead the fleet into combat as point-squadron, and publicly shamed me by reassigning my squadron to rear-guard.”
Drik then explained how he had been determined to ensure the safety of his squadron, so he conferred with Engineering-Master Plec about automated controls and how sequences might be preprogrammed — so that ships might be controlled remotely, with their systems slaved to that of another ship. Tzal was amazed to learn what Drik and Plec had done to his ship, during that “systems inspection” they had performed on every ship in their squadron a few subcycles before.
Tzal also heard how when they emerged into normal space to find the chaos of exploding ships all around them, Drik had activated remote control over the entire squadron — initiating a preprogrammed sequence that pulled the squadron into a tight, overlapping, stacked formation and activated the forward weaponry to clear a path in front of the squadron, so they could accelerate back to transition speed and escape.
“How is it that you came up with the idea of modifying the software of your squadron to accomplish this incredible feat, Master Drik?” asked Sector-Master Dras.
Sentience 1: Storm Clouds Gathering Page 2
