“Not really. In a way, it’s actually encouraging! Because, the more the robot’s foul-ups resemble human ones, the closer we are getting to humanlike machine intelligence.”

“If it is going that well — why are you so upset?”

“Is it obvious? Well, it’s probably because I’ve finally come to the end of the notes we retrieved. I’ve worked through just about everything that those notes described. So much so that now I am swimming out into uncharted seas.”

“Is there any rule that the AI in your lab must be the same as the one that was stolen?”

“Yes, pretty much so, except for some minor details. And the trouble is that it has so many bugs that I am afraid that we’re stuck on a local peak.”

“What do you mean?” Ben said.

“Just a simple analogy. Think of a scientific researcher as a blind mountain climber. He keeps climbing up the mountain and eventually reaches a peak and can climb no higher. But because he can’t see anything he has no way of knowing that he’s not at the top of the mountain at all. It is merely the peak of a local hill — a dead end. Success is then not possible — unless he goes back down the mountain again and looks for another path.”

“Makes sense,” Ben said. “Are you telling me that the AI you have just built — which is probably almost the same as the one that was stolen — may be stuck on a local peak of intelligence and not on some much higher summit?”

“I’m afraid that’s it.”

Ben yodeled happily. “But that is the best news ever!”

“Have you gone around the twist?”

“Think for a second. This means that whoever stole your old model must also be stuck in about the same way — but he won’t even know it. While you can go and perfect your machine. When that happens we’ll have it — and they won’t!”

As this sunk in a broad grin spread across Brian’s face. “Of course you’re right. This is the best news ever. Those crooks are stuck — while I’m going to push right ahead with the work.”

“Not at this moment you’re not — after lunch!” Shelly said, putting down her wineglass and pointing to the door. “Out. It’s after two and I’m starving. Eat first, talk later.”

After eating See Khrong Moo sam Rot — which despite its name was absolutely delicious — sweet, sour and salty spareribs — they even managed some custard steamed in pumpkin for dessert.

“I’ll never eat army chow again,” Brian groaned happily and rubbed his midriff.

“Tell that to the cook — make his day,” Shelly said. “That’s what I’m going to do.”

Lat Phroa took their praise as his due, nodding in agreement. “It was pretty good, wasn’t it? If the rest of the troops like it I’m going to work hard to get this kind of chow in the regular menu. If only for my own sake.”

Ben left them there and they walked off some of the lunch by strolling back to the lab.

“I’m enthusiastic — but apprehensive,” Brian said. “Swimming out into uncharted seas. Up until now I have been following the charts, my own notes — but they have just run out. It’s a little presumptuous of fourteen-year-old me to think that I can succeed where the twenty-four-year-old me pooped out.”

“Don’t be so sure. Dr. Snaresbrook maintains that you’re smarter now than ever before — your implants have given you some outstanding abilities. And furthermore, in the work you’ve done with Snaresbrook — analyzing your own brain — you’ve probably discovered more about yourself than a squad of psychologists ever could. It’s clear to me that you’re getting there, Brian. Bringing something new into the world.

“A truly humanlike machine intelligence.”

27

July 22, 2024

Ben found the message in his phone when he woke up. It was Brian’s voice.

“Ben — it’s four in the morning and we have it at last! The data in Robin was almost enough, and Dr. Snaresbrook finished the job by decoding some more material from my brain. It was an awful job, but we managed to get it done. So now, theoretically, Robin contains a copy of my superego and I’ve set the computer to reassembling all of Robin’s programs to try to integrate the old stuff with the new. Need some sleep. If you can make it please come to the lab after lunch for a demo. Over and out — and good night.”

“We’ve done it,” Brian said when they met in the laboratory. “The data already downloaded into Robin was almost enough. It was Dr. Snaresbrook who finished the job, adding what might be called a template, a downloaded copy of my superego. You could say that it was a copy of how the highest-level control functions of my brain operate. All memory that was not associated with control was stripped away until we had what we hoped would be a template of a functioning intelligence. Then came the big job of integrating these programs with the AI programs that were already running. This was not easy but we prevailed. But along the way we had some spectacular failures — some of which you already know about.”

“Like the lab wreck last week.”

“And the one on Tuesday. But that is all in the past. Sven is now a real pussycat.”

“Sven?”

“Really Robin number 7, after we found out that 6.9 couldn’t access all the memory we needed.”

“Blame Shelly for that,” Brian said. “She claims that when I say ‘seven’ it sounds more like ‘sven.’ So when I wasn’t looking she programmed in a Swedish accent. The name Sven stuck.”

“I want to hear your Swedish AI talk!”

“Sorry. We had to take the accent out. Too much hysteria and not enough work getting done.”

“Sounds good to me. When do I get to meet your AI?”

“Right now. But first I’ll have to wake Sven up.” Brain pointed to the motionless telerobot.

“Wake up or turn on?” Ben asked.

“The computer stays on all the time, of course. But the new memory management scheme turned out to be very much like human sleep. It sorts through a day’s memories to resolve any conflicts and to delete redundancies. No point in wasting more memory on things that you already know.” Brian raised his voice. “Sven, you can wake up now.”

The three lens covers clicked open and the legs stirred as Sven turned toward them. “Good afternoon, Brian and Shelly. And stranger.”

“This is Ben.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Ben. Is that your given name or family name?”

“Nickname,” Ben said. Robin had forgotten him again — for the third time — as its memory was changed. “Complete name, Alfred J. Benicoff.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Ms. or Mr. Benicoff.”

Ben raised his eyebrows and Brian laughed.

“Sven has still not integrated all the social knowledge involved with recognizing sexual distinctions. In fact, in many ways, it is starting from scratch, with entirely new priorities. The main thing is completeness first. I want Sven to have as well rounded an intelligence as that of a growing child. And right now, like a child, I want to teach him how to safely cross streets. We’re going for a walk now — would you like to come?”

Ben looked at the clutter of electronic machinery and his eyebrows shot up. Brian laughed at his expression and pointed to the other end of the lab.

“Virtual reality. I can’t believe how much it’s improved in the last ten years. We’ll get into those datasuits and Sven will join us electronically. Shelly will supervise the simulators.”

The suits opened at the back; Brian and Ben took off their shoes and stepped in. They were suspended at the waist so they could turn and twist as they walked. The two-dimensional treadmill floor panels let their feet move in any direction, while other effectors inside the boots simulated the shapes and textures of whatever terrain was being simulated. The featherweight helmets turned with their heads, while the screens they looked into displayed the totally computer-generated scene. Ben looked up and saw the Washington Monument above the treetops.