by Phoenix Ward
“No,” Karl replied. “Is it good?”
“Not really,” Stewart answered, his lips pursed in humor. “What’s up? Got a pitch ready for the meeting?”
“You’re damn right I do,” Karl said. “What about you? Anything groundbreaking?”
“Oh, I dunno about that,” the blond man replied with an attempt at modesty. “But it’s something different. Something I’ve never really tried before. Could be a real hit or miss.”
The woman on the couch tried to ignore them, but didn’t seem to be able to. She stood up and excused herself to the hallway to finish whatever it was she had been doing in peace.
“Any hints as to what you’re bringing?” Stewart pried.
Karl shook his head. “You’ll find out soon, same as everyone else.”
“Do you even want to be a part of the big test?” the engineer interrogated. “It doesn’t seem like something that’d be up your alley.”
“How do you mean?”
Stewart blushed a little. “I mean no offense, but you strike me as a thinking scientist rather than a hands-on one,” he explained.
“You’re mistaken,” Karl retorted. “I like whatever gets me closer to the I.I.s. I don’t discriminate on science.”
“Well, the possibility of a grant doesn’t hurt, either, does it?”
“No, it does not.”
There was a period of silence after the pair shared a forced chuckle. Karl knew it was the perfect time to transition to the topic of his security breach.
“So, hey, I wanted to talk to you about something,” he started, unsure of how to explain his dilemma. However, he was unable to continue, as one of the junior engineers peeked his head into the lounge.
“Meeting time, y’all,” the woman announced. She continued down the hallway. A handful of other employees filed past the open door.
“Hold that thought,” Stewart said as he rose to his feet. “What do you say, should we dazzle them?”
“After you,” Karl replied.
“Thank you all for your time,” the young man with the shaved head said before taking a slight bow. He returned to his seat and ran his hand over his scalp in anxiety.
“And thank you for the pitch,” Dr. Elfa Einarsdóttir said, jotting down something on her small tablet. “Your project will be considered for the full test, and we will let you know.”
Dr. Elfa was one of the most renowned experts in the field of cybernetic engineering. Her father was the man primarily credited with the invention of the internal retina display most modern cerebral computers communicated through. When she was only fourteen, she had developed prosthetics that had their own finger and palm prints and could convey temperature in a manner so natural that it felt like a normal sense of touch.
The older Canadian man who sat beside Dr. Elfa looked out over the crowd of scientists and engineers that packed the conference room.
“Next we’ll hear from Stewart Lythe,” he bellowed. His cheeks creased when he opened his mouth to speak.
The young man gave Karl a wink before taking the floor.
“Good afternoon, folks,” Stewart started. “Are we all staying awake? You guys are all champs for paying attention for this long. You are paying attention, aren’t you?”
There were some disjointed replies and a few nods, but mostly silence.
“Perfect,” Karl’s colleague continued, unperturbed. “You see, the idea I’m pitching today isn’t your average I.I.-interaction experiment. Instead, I offer a unique project that will delve deeper into what makes an intelligence so intelligent.”
He stood with a proud grin for a few seconds, hoping someone would laugh at his mediocre wordplay.
Get to the point, Karl thought at Stewart. This isn’t some sort of self-help seminar. You’re already losing them.
By the look on Stewart’s face, Karl half-believed his thoughts had gotten through. His acquaintance had an expression tortured with embarrassment, but he powered on.
“We’ve seen robots that can build and design automobiles, architecture, and even other robots,” he continued. “There have been computer programs smart enough to code and debug other computer programs. So what if we could allow installed intelligences to develop, code, and even improve other installed intelligences?”
“Interesting,” Dr. Elfa commented. “What do you mean by ‘improving’ other I.I.s?”
“I mean it in every sense of the word,” was the answer. “Increasing their cognitive abilities, upgrading their memory storage, removing undesirable traits, and so on. Can you imagine how much more an I.I. with nearly superhuman capabilities can achieve?”
One person in the room raised his hand.
“Yes?” Stewart addressed him.
“Wouldn’t that kind of drastic improvement create a form of master race, so to speak?” the man asked. He seemed timid about his question, and some of his words were difficult to hear. “What impact might that have for the relationship between the I.I., which would think itself superior, and a human, which would be seen as inferior?”
“You know, that’s a fascinating question and it deserves a lot more exploration, but I’m not talking about any major personality traits,” Stewart explained. “We only want to increase their ability to learn and to perform complicated tasks. We can’t pretend to make anything more intelligent than it already can be, but my desire is to let them have the tools to give them a leg up.”
“Any form of superiority, even just better memory and the sort, is likely to lead to an inflated ego, correct?” the man said. “How do you avoid I.I. supremacy as a result?”
Stewart seemed to sweat a little as his eyes darted around. He’s choking up there, Karl realized. He smiled to himself. That’ll make my presentation look even better.
“Well, since we’re already making cognitive improvements, it stands to reason that we could curb those mental tendencies that might lead to ethnocentric behavior,” the engineer stated.
“Fair enough, though I’m not entirely convinced,” the inquisitive man said before taking his place back among the audience.
Dr. Elfa waved toward Stewart. “Please, continue,” she urged.
The young man seemed to be a little derailed on his presentation, losing the momentum he had been building in the beginning. He gave a quick puff of air, then straightened his posture.
“This I.I.-to-I.I. improvement can be achieved with a series of code injections and a little bit of memory to match,” he resumed. “We’ll need to give them the ability to use the tools we use ourselves to create and modify installed intelligences. My peers in engineering and I will be able to easily design peripherals for them to use, such as a robotic arm for hand-held equipment.”
“How long would it take your team to make a prototype?” Dr. Elfa inquired.
“Eight months,” Stewart answered. “Maybe nine. We already have a few mechanical pieces, as well as the foundation for the code injections.”
“Very well,” the woman leading the meeting said. “Thank you for your presentation. We will let you know what we think.”
Stewart gave a polite nod, and then walked back to his hole in the audience. As he left the center of attention, he shot Karl a confident look.
Smug bastard, Karl said to himself. He thinks he has it in the bag.
“Karl Terrace,” the man beside Dr. Elfa called out.
The psychologist made his way past the people around him and into the middle of the room. He carried his mug of coffee with him, using it almost like a stage prop.
“So, what I would like to do is expand the amount of senses an I.I. and his or her host human can share and experience together,” Karl started. He didn’t want to waste any time with phony greetings or salesman-esque babble. He knew these people. They weren’t mindless investors or uneducated board members. They were scientists. “Specifically, I want to allow the shared sensations of taste and smell. When we are able to make this modification, it will be the first time an I.I. has been able to e
xperience either sense, if I’m not mistaken.”
Dr. Elfa seemed to truly enjoy mulling the concept over in her head. “Fascinating,” she said. “How would this be implemented?”
“With a modest patch in the sensory code we’ve already developed for sight and sound,” Karl explained. “After those changes, the host would take a round of hormone stimulators to allow the programming to access these two new senses. The pills come with extremely mild side-effects, all of which are easily treated with over-the-counter medication.”
There was a bit of murmuring around the crowd. The psychologist could tell from the body language and tone of his audience that they were intrigued—and even a little excited. A smirk spread across Karl’s face. He locked eyes with Stewart, who seemed a little disappointed.
That’s right, Karl mused. You’ve got some competition.
“When will a prototype be ready?” Dr. Elfa asked.
“It already is,” Karl replied. He reached into his front pocket and retrieved a small bottle of pills.
Most people gasped, and even a few laughed at the reveal of Karl’s drugs.
I’ve really got them in the palm of my hand, he realized.
“These hormone stimulators have already been approved by the government for human testing, and the code to pair the pills with is in its last stage of development. In fact,” he said, turning coy eyes to Dr. Elfa, “I was hoping to finish the final testing with the help of an I.I.; I would be more than happy to be the first human subject.”
Everyone was floored. Some people had expressions of surprise and discomfort. Others were beaming as they contemplated Karl’s vision becoming reality.
“Well, I must say, that is very impressive,” Dr. Elfa commented, a bit of surprise saturated into her face as well. “We will certainly be in touch.”
“Thank you,” Karl said, then left the floor.
Stewart caught his eye as Karl returned to the herd of scientists. There was almost an imprint of hurt, or maybe mistrust, that was stamped on his brow and his eyes. Karl maintained a straight face, but took satisfaction in the expression internally. It was only once he was in the back of the crowd, where no one could see his face, that he remembered the message from last night. He had nearly forgotten.
“Hey, man, it seems like it went really well,” Stewart told Karl once the meeting had let out and they met up in the hallway outside. A few people bled past them, returning to their offices or heading back to the parking lot to go home.
“Thanks, yours too,” Karl lied. “Listen, there’s something I want to talk to you about. Do you have time?”
“Of course,” Stewart replied. “Nothing much left to do with the day as it is.”
Karl led his colleague down a couple doors until they were in Stewart’s office. The engineer wore a confused countenance as he closed the door behind them. He didn’t prod with any questions, but his furrowed brow asked them nonetheless.
“Last night, I received a strange message through my cerebral computer,” Karl began. “I think someone hacked into me.”
Surprise tugged at the skin under Stewart’s eyes. His lips parted as he processed what his associate had said.
“You’re serious?” he asked.
“Why would I joke about that?” Karl asked.
“What did it say?”
” ‘Human minds are to be separate from digital ones,’ ” the psychologist answered. “Then it threatened me, should we continue our work.”
Stewart’s surprise remained at maximum for so long, it started to worry Karl. The psychologist cleared his throat, as it now seemed that the engineer was in trance.
“I got the same message last night,” Stewart said.
“What?” Karl was incredulous. He started to get a creeping sensation over his skin, like the hackers were casting a physical shadow over him, freezing the air.
“Not only that, but I’ve heard rumors of other scientists in the lab getting threatened.”
“All last night?”
“All last night.”
“What the hell?” Karl said.
The engineer seemed almost pained with contemplation. “Could be extremists?” he mused aloud.
“That’s what I was thinking,” Karl said. “Some sort of anti-I.I. hacker. A good one, too.”
“Do you think their threat is legitimate?”
“How can I know? Would you gamble on it?”
“So what should we do?”
“I dunno,” Karl replied. “That’s why I wanted to ask for your help. Is there any way one of your code guys could sift through the logs from the hack and see if they’re able to learn anything?”
“Possibly,” Stewart said. “Isn’t this something better handled by the police, though?”
“You know we can’t do that,” Karl started.
Stewart pursed his lips. “You’re right,” he said. “Our work is too sensitive. Too many prying eyes.”
“You know as well as I that this story would blow up if anyone caught wind of it,” Karl said. “That’s why I need you to keep this between you, me, and your coder. Tell him as little as possible for him to do what he needs to.”
“Okay,” was the only reply.
“Thanks.” Karl sighed with an air of relief. “Now let’s get on with the day, what do you say?”
Stewart nodded.
Just as Karl was about to step out the door, Stewart stopped him.
“Hey Karl,” he began.
The psychologist turned around.
“Be careful.”
Mindshare
Clammy hands guided the vehicle’s controls as Karl sped along the freeway. He hadn’t been able to sit quite still since he’d received the news that morning. Continually fluctuating between chills and heat waves, the psychologist had almost worked himself up into a panic attack earlier. It had taken him two tries just to pour cereal into a bowl, because his fingers refused to stop trembling.
Karl was selected to have an installed intelligence implanted in his brain. He was going to be the first man with two minds.
He had been speechless when Dr. Elfa called to tell him. She even thought he had hung up for a moment, because words ceaselessly failed him. All he’d managed to let out before dropping the call was a few jumbled thanks and “I’m honored.” He had never struggled so hard with putting his arms in the right sleeves as he did that morning.
It was going to be a relatively pain-free operation, but Karl was still nervous. They wanted to have it implanted before the weekend, so it felt like there was no time at all to brace for it. More than a few instances, the psychologist felt his anxiety get the best of him and allowed his vehicle’s automated systems to take over.
In order to implant the I.I. into Karl’s brain, a team of surgeons were going to place a new “slot” into his cerebral computer. Rather than plugging directly into the tissue, the I.I. would be able to communicate with its host best through some form of digital medium. Using delicate and tiny instruments, the surgeons would be able to insert a chip containing the I.I. into the slot. Then, it was anyone’s guess what was going to happen. They’d taken all of the precautions to minimize any risk to Karl himself, but there was always a bit of uncertainty when it came to new scientific endeavors.
Still, excitement trumped fear as Karl turned off onto the street leading to the lab. He increased the music on the radio and let the anticipation engulf him.
Karl’s head swam after only a half hour of briefing. The head surgeon wanted to go over every intricate step with the psychologist before he considered preparing him for the procedure. There were a number of visual aids they used, and even a few video clips of similar operations in order to desensitize Karl to the thought of having a small drill burrow into his skull. It didn’t work.
Then, Dr. Elfa entered the small surgeon’s office after its owner had departed.
“Excited?” she asked as she slid her tablet onto the desk.
“That’s one word for it,” Karl replie
d, trying his best to not sound legitimately afraid.
“I’m sure you’re also anxious to learn who we’re going to be putting in your head, yes?” she asked.
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious.”
The older woman sat down on the black office chair behind the desk and folded her fingers together.
“Well, we had a couple dozen candidates, all for various personality and brain types,” she started. “For you, we’ve chosen Dr. Maynard Batiste.”
“Maynard Batiste,” Karl echoed the name.
Dr. Elfa nodded. “He was an engineer who specialized in cybernetics, like myself,” she explained. “Dr. Batiste is credited with co-creating the hardware that became the first cerebral computer in the world. He worked extensively with artificial intelligences and, when they were invented, was one of the earliest proponents of installed-intelligence technology. He was working on a project identical to our own: to allow I.I.s to communicate directly with the human brain. His work, however, was tragically cut short by his death over thirty years ago.”
It was a lot of information to absorb at once, so Karl started with the immediate question. “How did he die?” he inquired.
Dr. Elfa’s wrinkles tightened in subtle discomfort. “It’s important for you to remember that you will be sharing your brain with another consciousness,” she replied. “It’s not like any other relationship you’ve ever had. You won’t be able to withhold information from Dr. Batiste, nor will you be able to lie. There will be no secrets he won’t know about. Therefore, due to the upsetting nature of his death, that information will have to remain unknown to you. For the time being, at least. We don’t want to give the I.I. any undue stress until we know the mindshare is a success.”
Karl’s uncertainty must have bled out onto his face, because Dr. Elfa added, “For the sake of the test, we’d prefer there to be no distractions.”
The psychologist nodded.
“Good,” Dr. Elfa said. “If there’s nothing you’d like to ask, we can go ahead and begin prepping you for the mindshare process.”