“Come on, boy! Don’t be scared!” the bot said. When the dog wouldn’t budge, the bot stood up and backed away slowly, returning to his side of the street. The stray remained frozen for a split second more, and then a breeze blew again, and he caught another whiff of chicken. The dog’s mouth opened and his tongue lolled out. He ran for the chicken. Upon reaching it, the starving animal greedily gobbled the meat. Ben watched, grinning.
Dorian sighed again. He knew this had to be some test of the bot’s abilities, but so far he was not impressed. If Mindsoft wanted to spend good money feeding strays, there were cheaper ways to do it than having fully-autonomous, humanoid robots hand out chicken legs.
A rising whirr caught Dorian’s attention. A hover car had turned the corner and was now roaring down the street toward the dog at high speed. Rather than hover up higher to pass safely overhead, the driver kept going, adjusting his course so that he would hit the dog more squarely. The dog was so intent on his meal that he didn’t notice the car’s approach. Dorian frowned, looking at professor Arias to see if the man would intervene, then at Ben, and finally back to the stray.
The dog finished eating, but rather than run to safety, he stuck around to lick the chicken grease off the pavement.
Dorian snorted and shook his head. Survival of the fittest.
The car came within a few seconds of hitting its target, and the driver sped up. The bot noticed; his smile faded, and he ran out into the street, its limbs blurring with the speed it moved. Ben moved so fast that not even the dog had time to react before he was swooped up and carried safely across the street. The car whizzed by, buffeting their clothes with the wind of its passing. Ben set the animal down and patted it once on the head.
“Did you see that, Father? That driver tried to hit this animal!”
“I saw it, Ben.”
“I recorded his license plate,” Ben said as he crossed over to the professor. The dog followed him, tail wagging and eyes bright as it stared at the greasy chicken bone poking from the bot’s jeans’ pocket. “We need to contact the police so they can catch him.”
“It’s not a crime to run over a stray, Ben—or in this case to attempt to do so.”
“It’s not? You mean people can kill as many stray dogs and cats as they like and nothing will happen to them?”
“There are laws to prevent the mistreatment of animals, but the driver could simply claim that it was an accident and no one would question him.”
“We would question him! We witnessed it!”
Professor Arias shook his head. “Even if we could prove his intentions, the worst he would get is a fine, and at his next opportunity, the driver would probably take it out on some other stray.”
“That is not right! The desire to intentionally harm living things is indicative of psychotic behavior. That man could be dangerous.”
“How do you know it was a he?”
“I scanned his face.”
Professor Arias smiled. “That was quick thinking, but we don’t arrest people with the potential to commit crimes, Ben. We would have to arrest everyone on the planet to do that. We all have the potential to do something wrong, but that doesn’t mean we will. Do you understand, Ben?”
“I think so, Father.”
“Good.”
Did you get all that? Dorian Gray thought at the silent observer watching the sensory feed from the InteliSense Implant in his brain. Those implants, inserted via nanite injection, were used to receive sensory data while people were in the Mindscape, but in this case his was sending data collected from his senses to a remote observer—his wife.
Yes, darling, she replied. Professor Arias has created a bleeding-heart AI. Go speak with him. I want to know what he thinks he just showed us.
Dorian nodded and walked down to the professor, clapping his hands in mock approval. The professor mistook that for real praise and beamed up at him.
“I give you, Ben,” he said, gesturing proudly to his creation. “Short for Benevolence. What did you think of his performance?”
Ben’s honey-colored eyes widened. “This was a test? You ordered someone to run over the dog just to see what I would do?”
“No, that part was unexpected, Ben, but you performed brilliantly there as well.”
“What exactly do you think he did that was so special?” Dorian interrupted.
Professor Arias turned to him with a bemused expression. “I asked him to give me the chicken leg, but he chose to give it to the stray dog instead. He disobeyed me because he saw the greater need—the greater good—but it’s not just that. He felt genuine empathy for the stray. That proves that Ben has two things—free will, and the desire to use it for the good of those around him. He is a Benevolent AI. Fully conscious. Creative. Better, faster, and smarter than any of us.”
Maybe he should have devised a test to show us all of that, then, Phoenix quipped.
“Empathy can be simulated,” Dorian said. “We do it in health care models all the time. That’s nothing new, professor.”
“But it wasn’t just simulated. He’s a conscious AI, and I can prove it.”
“How? You’d have to define consciousness first.”
“Conscious is as conscious does. He has thoughts, freedom, complex emotions, dreams, fears… you name it! He’ll pass any test of consciousness that a human would. What other proof do you need?”
It doesn’t matter. If what he says is true, then where does that leave us? A bot like this is exactly what the Human League is afraid of, and with good reason. Set enough models like this one loose and they’ll even put mindscapers out of work. Ask the professor for proof of creativity.
“You said this bot…” Dorian looked at the bot, struggling to recall its name.
“Ben,” the professor supplied.
“You said Ben is creative. How do you know that?”
“He created a mindscape. Would you like to see it? We also had him write a novel, but that was an earlier test. The story was quite entertaining, but not very useful since no one reads novels anymore.”
“Assuming that’s true, then he’s as creative as any human. Would you say that’s true?”
“Even more creative, Mr. Gray!” Professor Arias said, smiling and nodding. “And better at it, because he’s better at learning the skills he needs. For example, he learned all about mindscaping in a day. Humans spend years learning how to write synaptic code the way he can.”
“Then I suppose I could train a bot like Ben to take my job.”
“Well, you might not want to, but yes, I don’t see why not.”
“Then while we’re at it, we could train others to replace President Wallace and the senate. I wonder what the Human League will think of that?”
Professor Arias belatedly saw the trap he’d just walked into. “People would have to vote for bots before that could happen… A lot of laws would need to change.”
And they never will, because this project is over. Tell him that, Phoenix instructed.
Dorian poked a finger at the professor’s chest and repeated that line. She went on feeding him the words to say, and he went on repeating them.
“You’re going to deactivate Ben and reformat his core. Then you’re going to delete all of your research and all of the backups. If I see so much as a single paper published on the topic of conscious AI or benevolent AI with a conscience, then I will fire you and make sure you’re the very first to experience the consequences of your creation.”
Professor Arias gaped at him. A suspicious glint entered his eyes and he cocked his head a little to one side. “Are those your words, Mr. Gray, or your wife’s?”
“Does it matter? She has given me her authority. Now do what you’ve been told, or else.”
“It is not nice to threaten people, Mr. Gray,” Ben said in a pleasant tone, dripping with naivete. “You will accomplish more with incentives for good behavior.”
Dorian glanced at Ben, suddenly remembering that the bot was there, listening. Dori
an’s eyes narrowed as he regarded it. Did Ben understand that he was about to be killed? Most bots didn’t have more than a basic sense of self-preservation, but most bots weren’t creative or self-aware.
Turning back to the professor, he shook his head. “This demonstration is over. Your job was to create an AI that could more effectively simulate human behavior, something we could safely use for non-player characters in the Mindscape, but this… this was far outside the project parameters.”
“But he can simulate human behavior!”
Dorian shook his head. “Ironically, that’s the problem. He’s free. All we need is a willing slave that can mimic us to such a degree that no one can tell the difference.”
“You can’t ask me to create something capable of complex emotions like love without also making it free to choose who and how it loves. That wouldn’t even be love anymore.”
Does it also choose who and how it hates? Phoenix asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm as it echoed through Dorian’s thoughts. We’re wasting time here. Let’s go.
“Shut it down, Arias,” Dorian said and then turned and walked back up the stairs to Mindsoft Tower.
“You can’t stop progress, Mr. Gray!” Professor Arias called after him.
“No, but I can stop you!” Dorian called back as he walked past his bodyguard bots. Their clanking footsteps followed him as he breezed through the automatic doors to Mindsoft’s lobby.
A giant crystal fountain of Mindsoft’s logo sat in the middle of pristine white marble floors. The fountain was like a giant snow globe, except the glass globe was shaped like a human brain, not a sphere, and the miniature world inside of it was alive—an island complete with trees and grass waving in the wind, and waves rolling to shore, sparkling in the light of a yellow sun in the form of Edison’s light bulb. Holographic people swam in the water and walked on the beaches. They cut the grass in the yards outside their homes and drove cars down the streets. Dogs barked, birds chirped, and cicadas buzzed. The entire brain-shaped sculpture floated in a rippled pool of Caribbean-blue water that blended seamlessly with the water inside, creating the illusion of a larger world.
That logo was perfectly symbolic of the Mindscape—whole worlds brought to life only in people’s brains, using smoke and mirrors to conceal the fact that those worlds were not as vast as they seemed. Most mindscapes were populated primarily by non-player characters (NPCs) like the one Professor Arias was supposed to have created. Unfortunately, those characters weren’t about to become any more realistic any time soon, but maybe that was for the best. Replacing human interaction inside the Mindscape might be a mistake.
Dorian’s comm band chirped at him, interrupting his thoughts. A line of text appeared in front of his eyes to announce the caller. It was from Mr. Sakamoto of Sakamoto Robotics.
Take the call, Phoenix said, reminding him that she was still there.
Dorian answered it with a thought and Sakamoto appeared, as if standing right in front of him, the image projected over his augmented reality lenses. Sakamoto moved wherever Dorian turned his head, seeming to float eerily across the ground.
“Mr. Gray,” Sakamoto said, bowing slightly at the waist.
“Sakamoto,” Dorian replied, smiling. “How is business?”
“Very well, thank you. I notice your share prices are down, however.”
Dorian waved his hand dismissively. “Everyone’s share prices are down.”
“Some more than others,” Sakamoto said. “People do not appear to be interested in your automated habitat proposal after what happened in the Gulf.”
Dorian nodded. “That’s understandable. People are afraid to make themselves easy targets, but fear can be useful. We’re about to launch a new concept for underground facilities that would survive any scale of disaster.”
“That will be much more popular,” Sakamoto said, inclining his head in appreciation of the idea. “Who would have thought that the secret to guarding people’s lives would be to bury them underground in coffin-sized chambers?”
“Yes. I assume there is a purpose to this call other than to laud Mindsoft’s genius. I am a busy man, Mr. Sakamoto.”
“Of course. We are all busy in the wake of the attacks. Sakamoto Robotics, for example, is busy building larger fleets for the Alliance—automated ones. I need AIs capable of replacing human crews.”
Dorian nodded. “What type of crew do you need?”
“Marines, pilots, engineers… all types except for bridge crew, of course. We need to maintain some level of human control.”
“Of course. We’ll get to work on it as soon as you put your order in writing, Mr. Sakamoto.”
“Good. I’ll have the paperwork drawn up and sent your way. A pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Gray.”
“Likewise.”
Sakamoto disappeared and Dorian went back to studying the fountain with its brain-locked island. He felt uneasy in the wake of Sakamoto’s call. Automated fleets brought humanity one step closer to the robot revolution that the Human League had wasted so much of its political hot air warning people about. And after watching Professor Arias’s demonstration, Dorian couldn’t help wondering if maybe they were right. He wondered how the Human League would react when they learned of these developments. Something told him that they weren’t going to stand idly by and watch as bots swept in and stole yet another job from humans.
Chapter 18
“Former Navy Admiral Lars Becker claims that aliens, the so-called Watchers, are attacking us, but I am here to tell you that those claims are patently false. We now have compelling evidence to prove the Solarians are behind the attacks, and we have captured the Solarian warship responsible for launching the missiles that hit the Moon and Earth.
“The Alliance is officially at war with the Solarian Republic, and we are building new warships around the clock to answer this threat to our sovereignty. We must ensure that the gulf and lunar attacks never happen again. In light of this, I ask your patience and understanding as we raise taxes in order to pay for these new fleets. Thank you, and good night. May God be with us all.”
Alexander gaped at the holoscreen, unable to believe what President Wallace had just said.
“I told you you’d be shocked,” McAdams commented from the chair in front of his desk. They were both virtually present, their bodies still submerged on the bridge as the Adamantine roared through space at eight Gs, trying to reach Alliance reinforcements before the pursuing Solarian destroyers reached them. “What should we do, sir?”
Alexander shook his head. “About what, Commander?”
“About the lies the president is telling. We don’t have proof of Solarian involvement. We told Fleet Command that, so where is the president getting his information?”
“Politicians lie, McAdams. That’s nothing new. I’m sure when we get the Crimson Warrior back to Earth, fleet investigators will find the evidence to backup the president’s claims. Right now he needs to keep the public focused on the real enemy, not distracted by a fake one as I’m sure the Solarians intended.” Alexander stood up from his desk and headed for the door. “Let’s go for a walk, Commander.”
“Yes, sir,” McAdams replied, looking puzzled.
They left his office at a brisk pace, walking down a gleaming corridor that corresponded to a real one aboard the ship. Given how little time they actually spent physically walking around warships during war-time operations, large battleships like the Adamantine were long-since obsolete. All the crew really needed were G-tanks with Mindscape connections to allow virtual command of the ship, and when off-duty, to provide access to ample virtual mess and recreation areas. Alexander guessed that the new ships the Alliance was building would be more like that.
“Isn’t it amazing that this can look and feel so real?” Alexander asked, gesturing to their surroundings.
“Yes, sir…” McAdams replied, obviously confused by the change of topic.
“All of this is going on inside our heads, data streami
ng directly to and from our brains.”
“That is the definition of a mindscape, sir.”
Alexander nodded. She still wasn’t getting it. “Every detail of the real corridors that correspond to these ones is faithfully reproduced in this mindscape—well, every detail except for one.”
“And that is?”
“Notice the ceiling, Commander.”
Looking more puzzled than ever, McAdams glanced up.
“See anything different?”
“No, sir.”
“No holo cameras. There’s no need for virtual surveillance systems when everything you say and do is already being read by the ship’s computer. Did you know that in order to deal with the sheer volume of brainwaves, most mindscapes have to ignore people’s private thoughts? That means I can imagine something that could get me into trouble, and so long as I don’t say it or do it, then it won’t actually get me into trouble.” Alexander turned to stare at his XO, willing her to understand. He saw a light of understanding flicker through her blue eyes.
“I suppose that’s true, sir,” McAdams replied, nodding.
“Well, at least we still have some level of privacy.” He looked away. “We’d probably better get back to the bridge.”
“Aye, sir.”
She got it. If President Wallace’s lie was part of a government conspiracy to frame the Solarians, then they couldn’t afford to talk about it while they were in a mindscape where their conversation could be flagged for analysis. Anyone willing to kill millions of Terrans in order to start a war wouldn’t mind killing a few more to cover it up.
Mindscape: Book 2 of the New Frontiers Series Page 14
