New Eden

by Kishore Tipirneni

  “Don’t rub it in. Yes, you’re good luck, and yes, I’m glad I gave you the interview.”

  “Maybe things don’t always happen by accident.”

  Joshua wondered what her last comment alluded to as the two walked to the front door.

  Vinod answered the door promptly. He wore jeans and an AC-DC tee shirt with a cover image of their High Voltage album. “Rach, what’s up? What was so urgent?”

  Rachael introduced Joshua to Vinod. “Vinod, this is Dr. Joshua Andrews from the Bowman Particle Research Center.”

  “No introduction necessary. I recognize you from Professor Bowman’s lecture. Come on in. Vinod Bhakti,” he said, extending his hand.

  “Thanks for agreeing to help us out on such short notice,” Joshua said while shaking Vinod’s hand.

  Vinod led them through his home, which was strewn with old PCs, towers, electronic cables, books, and stacks of journal articles. They arrived shortly at his study at the rear of the house. The walls were decorated with posters for classic rock bands such as Metallica, Led Zeppelin, Van Halen, Jefferson Airplane, Pink Floyd, and dozens more. Some bore city names and tour dates as far back as the sixties and seventies. Two couches sat next to each other, forming a ninety-degree angle. Joshua placed the case on a coffee table in front of the couches. Near the back wall of the study was a large table with three computer monitors adjacent to each other, a single keyboard in front of the center screen. Behind the table were two floor-to-ceiling server racks filled with various servers and storage devices. Rachael and Joshua sat on one couch, Vinod on the other.

  Joshua stared at the racks on the back wall. “Jesus, Vinod—you running your own data center from here?”

  “Um,” Vinod replied, “I work cyber security for a startup. I always feel that the best way to stop a hacker is to be a hacker.”

  “Dark web?” Joshua asked.

  “Oh, definitely not!” Vinod replied. “That would be illegal.”

  Joshua got the gist of what Vinod was saying from the sarcastic tone of his voice.

  “So Rach, why do you need my algorithm?” Vinod asked.

  Rachael related everything that had taken place in the bat cave earlier in the day and summarized the conversation in the Prius. Joshua clarified some of the more technical issues involving the interface between the sphere, the module, and the computer. He grabbed a piece of paper and a ballpoint pen, quickly scribbled a few specs for the equipment that had been used and handed it to Vinod.

  “Can you help us?” Joshua asked.

  Vinod glanced at the paper, then at his visitors. “I’m being punked, right? Rach, I’m sorry for throwing you that surprise birthday party last year—I know you hate them—but this is a twisted way to get back at me.” He grinned and sat back against the overstuffed cushion of his couch. “Let’s just call it even.”

  “This is on the level,” Rachael said, staring straight at her friend.

  Vinod looked at Joshua, who had a stoic expression on his face. Vinod leaned forward again. “Holy crap. You’re not kidding, are you? You really believe that you’re having a chat with an intelligence somewhere in the universe using a spookyon in a Bowman sphere?”

  “Yup,” Rachael replied.

  “And they’re using mathematical constants?”

  “Which is why we need you,” Joshua asserted. “We can’t go any farther with this. I thought I’d created the particle, but—”

  “Yeah, I got it,” Vinod said. “You think you snagged a spookyon created during the first instants of the Big Bang.” He rubbed his hands together and puffed out his cheeks. “This is some heavy shit.”

  “Well?” Rachael said.

  “Why not take the problem to the university?” Vinod asked. “They have a gazillion mathematicians and computer geeks who can write code.”

  Joshua was clearly tired and rubbed his hands across his face. Dark circles were appearing beneath his eyes from stress and lack of sleep. “Maybe they can write code, but from what Rachael has told me, your algorithm is fully operational and ready to run. Given the bureaucratic structure of a university, it might be weeks or months before we can proceed, assuming they don’t hand the project off to a different department altogether. We need to make this happen tonight! Rachael has already reminded me that whoever is on the other end may not linger forever while waiting for a reply.”

  Vinod seemed receptive. “Bureaucrats are a bitch. I’ll grant you that.” He paused to consider Joshua’s plight, but quickly broke into a broad smile. “No radio waves? I know a bunch of guys at the Hat Creek Observatory who would be green with envy. This is so cool!”

  Joshua exhaled a sigh of relief. He’d apparently passed muster with the one man who was uniquely qualified to help him. Finding Vinod was nothing short of serendipity, and he began to believe that Rachael might literally be good luck. She’d materialized in the doorway of his office the day before, and he’d found success almost immediately, although in ways he couldn’t have foreseen.

  “Tell me more about your algorithm,” Joshua requested. “How does it work?”

  Vinod loved it when people asked about his work, and he gestured animatedly as he spoke with the enthusiasm of an inventor unveiling his latest marvel.

  “It all flows from information theory,” he began. “Like Professor Bowman said at Wheeler, information is the universe’s stock in trade. Everything is information. So here’s my premise. If two intelligent entities want to communicate, whether they’re elephants or extraterrestrials, they have to have a common reference point. For an advanced intelligence, the most common starting point would be something science-related, probably mathematics since it’s constant across the universe. No matter where you go, two plus two equals four.”

  “Makes sense,” Joshua said. “Go on.”

  “Here’s where it gets really interesting. Once you’ve established a reference point—in your case, a recognition of significant mathematical constants—you use that as a base to move to simple concepts such as basic mathematics and simple logic like yes and no, true and false. Once you have simple logic, you build from there using more complex ideas that you both would likely have in common, like the sciences. My algorithm progresses from simple mathematics and logic through the natural sciences, such as physics, chemistry, and biology, all the way to language.”

  “Is that really possible?” Joshua asked. “That’s one hell of a leap.”

  “Like any algorithm, it’s based on computer codes that determine a precise sequence of operations in order to calculate a function. By using subsets of various computational algorithms, it’s able to process data until it reaches a level of automated reasoning as it moves through successive finite states. And you’re right—it covers a diverse set of disciplines, but I’ve always operated on the assumption that all knowledge is related and builds upon itself. The really sophisticated part of my algorithm is how I use both variables and constants to interface with the next highest level of learning in order to jump from one subject to the next. It’s a clever piece of code, if I say so myself.”

  “You mentioned biology, but their biology may be totally different than ours,” Joshua pointed out, “so your algorithm could easily hit a dead end.”

  Vinod’s smile grew even larger, demonstrating that he was clearly proud of his work. “That’s the beauty of it. The algorithm may bypass biology altogether and take a different path. By the same token, it can account for different variables at any point during its progression. It can seek alternate biologies through a concept called modeling. It may model carbon-based life or jump to silicon-based biology, or at least a theoretical construct of it. Remember that information starts with output, or the sending of data. On the other end is input, or the assimilation of data. My particular algorithm is designed to accommodate how fast or slowly information is absorbed. If it hits a dead end, it simply tries a different route, sort of like a packet of data traversing the Internet. That’s why the program is a combination of both deter
ministic and randomized algorithmic functions. It has a definite endpoint, which is language, but it’s flexible enough to accommodate an almost infinite variety of variables along the way. It’s this flexibility that allows it such an extraordinary ability to extrapolate information while not excluding its primary function of linguistic instruction.”

  “But language,” Rachael said. “That’s always been the part of your algorithm that’s amazed me. Can you really teach these beings English?”

  “Yes. The endpoint of my algorithm is always language. While it’s running, variables continually point in the general direction of linguistics no matter what path it takes along the way.”

  Joshua scratched his head. “But language is so complex. In German, entire sentences equal a single noun in English. And think of the tens of thousands of characters in Chinese writing that express spoken language. Mathematics seems tame by comparison.”

  “You would think so, but it really isn’t. If I know the basic elements of a language, such as the roots for various words, I can deduce etymology and vocabulary. If I add suffixes, prefixes, and possible combinations of word order, I can construct an entire syntax. And that, my friends, is language.”

  Joshua glanced at Rachael, as if seeking one final reassurance given the urgency and gravity of their need. Rachael nodded imperceptibly.

  “So how long will it take for you to build an interface between our detector and your algorithm?” Joshua asked, feeling confident now that he’d heard the true potential of the algorithm and how it worked.

  “I need to see what I’m connecting with. I take it that you have a Bowman sphere in the case.”

  “Yup,” Joshua replied as he opened the case, took out the detector, and placed it on the table. “Actually, you’ll need to connect to the detector, or interface module as we sometimes call it. The detector was specifically designed to interact with the sphere and the spookyon within it and allow for an interface with a computer.”

  Vinod whistled lowly. “Pretty cool gadget. Reminds me of an old VHF receiver for a TV.”

  “It’s the second time today I’ve gotten that one,” Joshua said. “It has a standard interface since it’s designed to talk to the computers in my lab.”

  “What’s the interface?” Vinod asked.

  “Thunderbolt 3,” Joshua replied.

  “Lit,” Vinod remarked. “Guess we don’t have to worry about bandwidth.”

  The sound of “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida” emanated from six wall-mounted speakers. The volume was cranked up to an almost deafening level.

  “Layla!” Vinod shouted over the music. “Turn off music. Sorry, guys. I programmed the music to start before you called.”

  The music ceased immediately.

  “Layla?” Rachael asked. “What happened to Alexa?”

  Vinod pointed to a small black cylinder on the edge of his desk, its top glowing with a ring of orange light. “I modified Alexa. She was too slow and couldn’t understand all of my voice commands, so I built my own version. Hey, did you know that the organist for Iron Butterfly was so drunk when he wrote that song that when his band mate asked him what the title was, he could only answer in slurred speech? The title was originally ‘In the Garden of Eden,’ but the words came out as ‘In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida.’ Cool trivia, huh?”

  “Very interesting, Vinod,” Rachael answered sarcastically. She was used to Vinod’s ramblings about classic rock but really didn’t have the patience for them now. “So, how long will it take for you to build the interface?”

  Vinod dropped to one knee and closely inspected the module, ports, and LED lights. “What’s the transmission protocol?” he asked. “That’s the starting point for anything I do.”

  “It’s half-duplex transmission,” Joshua replied. “The entanglement of two spookyons allows for two-way communication, but only one particle can communicate at a time.” Joshua gave the same explanation of spookyon spin detection to Vinod that he’d presented to Rachael earlier.

  “Okay then, we need a workaround to tie into my algorithm, and that’s certainly in my wheelhouse. I’m also going to have to rewrite the low-level IO drivers to accommodate Thunderbolt 3, but if this module can interface with your own computers, then I don’t foresee any problems in using mine as long as some modifications are made. I’m guessing three hours to get the interface written.”

  A look of frustration crossed Joshua’s face as he lowered his head and passed his hand across his scalp. “That’s too long. Did you ever watch Star Trek?”

  “Original series or Next Generation?”

  “Original. Kirk always asked Scotty to cut the time in half since the Enterprise was usually in imminent danger. Can you shave some time off that estimate?”

  Vinod crossed his arms and looked from the module to Joshua. “Give me two hours, but I’m going to need to work alone—no offense. Just me and the computers—and some music, of course. Also, I’m going to need your detector here with me.”

  “Alright, guess that’ll have to do,” Joshua said as he closed the case with the sphere still inside. He turned to Rachael. “Since Vinod wants some privacy, we have a couple of hours to kill. You hungry? Maybe we can grab some dinner.”

  “Sure,” Rachael replied. “Vinod, do you have a recommendation for some place to eat close by?”

  “There’s a pretty good steakhouse about a mile from here.” Vinod was already sitting at his desk, lines of code scrolling up the screen at what appeared to be superhuman speed.

  “Um, I’m a vegetarian,” Joshua announced.

  “There’s an Italian place two blocks from the steakhouse,” Vinod said, his eyes remaining riveted to the screen as his fingers played across the keyboard. “Angelino’s.”

  Rachael took out her phone and started looking up Angelino’s. “You know you’re in California when the Hindu guy suggests steak while the Christian guy is a vegetarian.”

  “Actually, I’m Jewish,” Joshua corrected.

  “I’ve mapped it,” Rachael said, her index finger passing across the screen of her phone. “Twelve minutes away. Want anything Vinod?”

  “Nah. I’m good. I need some mood music. Layla, play ‘Come Sail Away’ by Styx.”

  “That’s our cue to leave,” Rachael replied as music once again flowed from the several speakers placed around the room.

  Joshua grabbed the case with the sphere, and the two headed for the front door. Outside, it was dark as the Prius backed out of the driveway. It was still raining.

  13

  Vinod’s Theorem

  Vinod remained seated at his desk after Joshua and Rachael left for Angelino’s. At SETI, as well as the startup where he was now employed, he’d received the nickname King of Multitasking. His fertile mind always seemed to work on multiple projects at once, and his colleagues had concluded that it was his total immersion in information theory that accounted for his ability to mentally perform numerous tasks simultaneously without sacrificing the quality of what he termed his “mind mechanics.” He claimed that the brain was the ultimate information machine, not that it wouldn’t be improved upon one day with chip implants—interfacing the cerebral cortex directly with various digital devices—that had been in beta testing since 2006 with various tech companies in Silicon Valley.

  Currently, as classic rock music filled his study, he was engrossed in writing code and thinking about the import of what Rachael and Joshua had told him moments earlier. Even while his fingers moved over the keyboard like a prodigy sitting at a Steinway, his lips mouthed the lyrics of each song that played.

  Information was his bread and butter, but he’d had an abiding passion for astronomy since his youth—yet another reason why he’d formed a close friendship with Rachael so quickly after their happenstance meeting on the Berkeley campus—but his interest in the stars had been supplanted by how humans might be able to send messages across vast interstellar distances. Surely there was intelligent life seeded throughout the two trillion galaxies of the observable unive
rse, and he regarded it as axiomatic that one day two alien races would want or need to talk to one another. Indeed, Vinod often dreamed of the treasure trove of information that could be downloaded from the databases of other civilizations, creating the fabled Encyclopedia Galactica described by science fiction writers for more than a century. He wanted to go much farther than SETI’s goal of simply locating intelligence orbiting distant stars, and his personal motto in high school and college had been “Why go to a party if you didn’t want to mingle, make new friends, and collect a few phone numbers?” Talking to ET was the ultimate mixer.

  Earlier that evening, Rachael and Joshua had made an extraordinary contact, the kind he’d dreamed of for years when gazing into the night sky. His mind was reeling as to who was controlling the other entangled spookyon: where were they, what did they look like, how advanced were they, and, of course, did they have music? Music composition, after all, was based on mathematical constructs. If the aliens could boogie, what did their music sound like? And how amazing was it that the task of talking to sentient beings far distant from the shores of the blue and white marble called Earth had fallen to him? Amazing, he thought, but it was not totally unexpected that the opportunity had landed on his doorstep.

  He’d written computer programs based on the premise that information of any kind automatically flowed in a direction where it could be accessed and acted upon in a meaningful way. Jung had termed the concept synchronicity, but Vinod had never read about a philosophical or psychological concept that he couldn’t quantify, however obtuse his interpretation might look. He called the concept of meaningful information flow Vinod’s Theorem, and it was based on the principle that all information was inherently intelligent regardless of the form it took. Critics had ridiculed him—not that he cared—by saying that it was dressed-up chaos theory, but they were dead wrong. His theorem was that all purposeful information was, by definition, intelligent, and therefore the opposite of intelligence was randomness—data that had no purpose. For this reason, he’d formed a corollary to his theorem: artificial intelligence was a fait accompli. In the end, the source of the intelligence, artificial or not, didn’t matter. Sooner or later, information would start to combine and interact, and man would wake up one day to discover that his clever little digital devices, not so meek, had inherited the Earth. Most astronomers believed that contact with extraterrestrials would be with machine intelligence, not biological organisms.