“We can’t stop there, though. There is another necessary model innovation. If you try to deal with all humans as identical, the way that gas molecules are identical, you’ll get garbage for results. Human progress depends to a large extent on the differences between people. So the individual units in my predictive model are not simple equations or data items. They are programs. Each program is a Fax, a duplication at some level of an individual human. My code allows anything from a Level One to a Level Five Fax to be used.
“Before the Seine was up and running, I had to cut corners. It would have taken forever to make runs with five billion separate Faxes, even if I used their lowest levels. So I was obliged to work with aggregates. I knew that was oversimplifying reality, and my results proved it. They were unstable. They blew up, just the way that any predictive program becomes unstable if you make the time-step too large.
“With the Seine up and running, though, I can finally run my model the way it should be run. No aggregation, but with a representation of every individual as an individual. And I can use Level Five Faxes if I want them, with complex decision logic and interaction powers, rather than simpleminded Level Ones. So I’m running a real solar system, with real people. But using the full power of the Seine computer, my virtual solar system will evolve six million times as fast as the real one. A year of solar system development takes only five seconds on the computer.”
“Five seconds? You say only five seconds, but that’s a long time to produce nonsense.” Pedersen stood up. “I’m sorry, but I’ve had enough. All the meaningless analogy with thermodynamics and statistical mechanics, and all the talk of superior approaches. Then you show us that.” The sweep of his arm took in Alex’s final results, still frozen on the displays. “Population zero, humans extinct, solar system development dead. Is there anyone in this room who believes such a thing for half a second? All our other models show nothing remotely like that. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’ve wasted too much time on this — this horseshit.”
“Now, Ole.” Tomas de Mises waved a hand at Pedersen, palm down. “Don’t let’s go to extremes. Though I must admit…” His voice trailed off. He stared at Alex’s final results, and shook his head.
“When did you perform the runs you just showed us?” Magrit Knudsen ignored the reactions of Ole Pedersen and Tomas de Mises and addressed Alex directly.
“Last night.” Alex didn’t want to look at Kate. If he had been present when the runs were first performed, they would have had time for a more detailed evaluation. “We repeated them this morning.”
“Then everything is less than one day old. Bugs in new models are the rule rather than the exception. I, too, have trouble believing what you have shown us. However.” Magrit Knudsen stared right at Ole Pedersen. “Regardless of anyone’s skepticism, these runs suggest problems in solar system development so grave that we must take them seriously. I do so, even if there is only one chance in a thousand that they are correct.” She turned to Mischa Glaub. “I want this work to continue on a high-priority basis. If you require additional resources, of humans or equipment, do not hesitate to ask for them. That’s it for this meeting.”
She stood up. “If you have the time, Ole, I’d like to spend a few minutes with you in my office, discussing your directorate’s models. You, too, Tomas, unless there’s something more urgent on your calendar.”
Magrit’s tone suggested that was unlikely. When the two men had trailed out after her, Mischa Glaub turned to Alex.
“After what Knudsen said I guess I can’t fire you on the spot, which is what you deserve. I should have known not to hire somebody with more money than sense. Don’t you ever come into one of these meetings again and go off half-cocked with results that you haven’t run by me and checked ten times over. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s surprises. So get the hell out of here, both of you, and work on that goddamm model.”
His expression changed from irritation to poorly-suppressed glee. “But did you see Pedersen’s face when you talked about ‘obsolete’ models? He looked like he was crapping barbecued rivets.”
13
You say that the Lonaker and Ligon models are junk.” Magrit was in her office with Tomas de Mises and Ole Pedersen. She was standing, and she had not invited the men to sit down. It was her way of indicating that this would not be a long meeting.
“You may be right, and you probably are.” In principle she was addressing both men, but no one had any doubt that she was mostly talking to Pedersen. “On the other hand, the models seem to be radically new. There is a chance that they are providing warnings that we should not ignore. So what I want you to do is this: learn everything that you possibly can about the new models. I will direct that every question you ask be answered, to any level of detail that you desire. Then I want your personal evaluation of the models. Not a simple dismissal, merely because they are different from what your own group has been developing. I want a real, point-by-point analysis. At the same time, keep it simple. Pretend that it’s Macanelly you’ll be briefing.”
She saw Pedersen wince. Loring Macanelly was a cross that she made him bear, in spite of (and partly because of) his complaints. Ole Pedersen was an interesting mix. Intellectually insecure but extremely ambitious, he was also competent and highly intelligent. Magrit believed in building on what people could do, rather than dwelling on what they could not. There were two ways to motivate Ole Pedersen. One was to provide him with ordinary challenges, such as making effective use of an individual who was stupid but well-connected and difficult to fire. That was Loring Macanelly. The other was to ask for the apparently impossible, which now and again Ole Pedersen would accomplish.
It was the second reason that made her add, “And don’t be content with evaluating what you find. I’d like you to understand Ligon’s work so thoroughly that you can make improvements to it.”
By referring only to Ligon’s work, Magrit made sure that Pedersen would not waste time asking questions of anyone but Alex Ligon. She was quite sure that Pedersen realized whose model it was, and if Mischa Glaub’s feathers were ruffled because he was being bypassed in the chain of command, Magrit would take care of that separately. To make the latter task easier, she added, “One thing I want to make clear. It’s the new model, and only the new model, that you will be exploring. I’m not authorizing you to go fishing around in other projects over there.”
Pedersen was nodding. He even seemed pleased. Magrit could imagine his thoughts. If the model had basic flaws and he could uncover them, he gained kudos. If the model happened to be correct and he could somehow suggest an improvement, he would share in the glory.
Magrit turned to de Mises. “Any problems with any of this, Tomas?”
“No. If there are disputes, I’ll do my best to sort them out.”
Which he would, and which he was good at. Any original thought by Tomas de Mises was far in the past, but he was a great mediator and conciliator. When in the near future he retired, Magrit would be sorry to lose those talents.
“Excellent.’’ Magrit led them toward the door. “This is a high-priority job, so I’d like reports every couple of days. Short, no more than a page until you turn up something major.”
Until, rather than unless, to give Ole Pedersen added motivation. Magrit took a deep breath as she closed the door and walked over to her desk. Her job required a constant balancing act… and she wouldn’t change it for any other in the System.
She had missed the time slot for a regular lunch. She heated a bowl of soft noodles, gulped it down with a handful of crackers, and scanned her messages. One jumped out at her, although she had no time to consider it in detail. She made a quick-print, stuffed the document into her pocket, and examined the priority list.