“How?”

“I want to improve my approach to the research. Right now all that I am doing is going through the material from the backup data bank we brought back from Mexico. But these are mostly notes and questions about work in progress. What I need to do is locate the real memories and the results of the research based upon them. At the present time it has been slow and infuriating work.”

“In what way?”

“I was, am, are…” Brian smiled wryly. “I guess there is no correct syntax to express it. What I mean is the me that made those notes was a sloppy note maker. You know how, when you write a note to yourself, you mostly scribble a couple of words that will remind you of the whole idea. But that particular me no longer exists, so my old notes don’t remind me of anything. So I’ve started working with Dr. Snaresbrook to see if we can use the CPU implant to link the notes to additional disconnected memories that are still in my brain. It took me ten years to develop AI the first time — and I’m afraid it will take that long again if I don’t have some help. I must get those lost memories back.”

“Are there any results of your accessing these memories?”

“Early days yet. We are still trying to find a way to make connections that I can reliably activate at will. The CPU is a machine — and I’m not — and we interface badly at the best of times. It is like a bad phone connection at other times. You know, both people talking at once and nothing coming across. Or I just simply cannot make sense of what is getting through. Have to stop all input and go back to square A. Frustrating, I can tell you. But I’m going to lick it. It can only improve. I hope.”

Ben walked Brian over to the Megalobe clinic and left him outside Dr. Snaresbrook’s office. He watched him enter, stood there for some time, deep in thought. There was plenty to think about.

The session went well. Brian could, access the CPU at will now, use it to extract specific memories. The system was functioning better — although sometimes he would retrieve fragments of knowledge that were hard to comprehend. It was as though they came as suggestions from someone else rather than from his own memories. Occasionally, when he accessed a memory of his earlier, adult self, he would find himself losing track of his own thoughts. When he regained control he found it hard to recall how it had felt. How strange, he thought to himself. Am I maintaining two personalities? Can a single mind have room for two personalities at once — one old, the other new?

The probing certainly was saving a great deal of time in his research and, as the novelty began to wear off, Brian’s thoughts returned to the most serious problems that still beset him on the AI. All the different bugs that led to failures — to breakdowns in which the machine would end up at one extreme of behavior or another.

“Brian — are you there?”

“What — ?”

“Welcome back. I asked you the same question three times. You were wandering, weren’t you?”

“Sorry. It just seems so intractable and there is nothing in the notes to help me out. What I need is to have a part of my mind that is watching itself without the rest of the mind knowing what is happening. Something that would help keep the system’s control circuitry in balance. That’s not particularly hard when the system itself is stable, not changing or learning very much — but nothing seems to work when the system learns new ways to learn. What I need is some system, some sort of separate submind that can maintain a measure of control.”

“Sounds very Freudian.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Like the theories of Sigmund Freud.”

“I don’t recall anyone with that name in any AI research.”

“Easy enough to see why. He was a psychiatrist working in the 1890s, before there were any computers. When he first proposed his theories — about how the mind is made of a number of different agencies — he gave them names like id, ego, superego, censor and so on. It is understood that every normal person is constantly dealing, unconsciously, with all sorts of conflicts, contradictions, and incompatible goals. That’s why I thought you might get some feedback if you were to study Freud’s theories of mind.”

“Sounds fine to me. Let’s do it now, download all the Freudian theories into my memory banks.”

Snaresbrook was concerned. As a scientist, she still regarded the use of the implant computer as an experimental study — but Brian had already absorbed it as a natural part of his lifestyle. No more poring over printed texts for him. Get it all into memory in an instant, then deal with it later.

He did not go back to his room, but paced the floor, while in his mind he dipped first into one part of the text, then another, making links and changing them — then gasped out loud.

“This has to be it — really it! A theory that fits my problem perfectly. The superego appears to be a sort of goal-learning mechanism that probably evolved on top of the imprinting mechanisms that evolved earlier. You know, the systems discovered by Konrad Lorenz, that are used to hold many infant animals within a safe sphere of nurture and protection. These produce a relatively permanent, stable goal system in the child. Once a child introjects a mother or father image, that structure can remain there for the rest of that child’s life. But how can we provide my AI with a superego? Consider this — we should be able to download a functioning superego for my AI if we can find some way of downloading enough of the details of my own unconscious value structure. And why not? Activate each of my K-lines and nemes, sense and record the emotional values associated with them. Use that data to first build a representation of my conscious self-image. Then add my self-ideal — what the superego says I ought to be. If we can download that, we might be much further on the way toward being able to stabilize and regulate our machine intelligence.”

“Let’s do it,” Snaresbrook said. “Even if no one has proven yet that the thing exists. We’ll simply assume that you do indeed have a perfectly fine one inside your head. And we are perhaps the first people ever to be in a position to find it. Look at what we have been doing for months now, searching out and downloading your matrix of memories and thought processes. Now we may as well push a little further — only backward instead of forward in time. We can try to do more backtracking toward your infancy, and see if we can find some nenies and attached memories that might correspond to your earliest value systems.”

“And you think that you can do this?”

“I don’t see any reason why not — unless what we’re seeking just doesn’t exist. In any case the search will probably involve locating another few hundred thousand old K-lines and nemes. But cautiously. There might be some serious dangers here, in giving you access to such deeply buried activities. I’ll first want to work up a way to do this by using an external computer, while disabling your own internal connection machine for a while. That way, we’ll have a record of the structures we discover in external form, which might be used in improving Robin. This will prevent the experiments from affecting you until we’re more sure of ourselves.”

“Well, then — let’s give it a try.”

25

May 31, 2024

“Brian Delaney — have you been working here all night? You promised it would just be a few minutes more when I left you here last night. And that was at ten o’clock.” Shelly stamped into the lab radiating displeasure.

Brian rubbed his fingers over rough revelatory whiskers, blinked through red-rimmed guilty eyes. Equivocated.

“What makes you think that?”

Shelly flared her nostrils. “Well, just looking at you reveals more than enough evidence. You look terrible. In addition to that I tried to phone you and there was no answer. As you imagine I was more than a little concerned.”