by Aaron Lowry
Part 2
“There’s no way he’s compromised,” the voice says. I predict with 64.4% certainty it belongs to a male of between of 70 and 85 kilograms based on its bass and tone. However, the voice is too far away for me to gain further precision. The voice originates from the grounds surrounding Santa Ana Federal Penitentiary. My audio sensors’ range extends beyond that of the prison’s camera network and I am unable to locate the speaker visually.
“I don’t like it,” says a second voice, 81.6% likely to belong to a male of between 100 and 130 kilograms. Based on comparison to previous recordings I calculate a 71.1% probability that it belongs to Warden Olsen. “It’s entrusted with the entire facility. Every camera, every door, every goddamn security bot is under that machine’s control. If 721 has hacked it he can escape anytime he wants.”
“You’re misunderstanding the AI’s architecture,” the 70 to 85 kilogram man says, “He can’t be-“
“It’s not a he, Greg,” Warden Olsen interrupts, “It’s a machine. A computer. It’s an ‘it’ by every definition of the word. Don’t make the mistake of thinking of it as a he.”
“Thank you,” the other man, tentatively ‘Greg,’ says. “As I was saying, ‘it’ cannot be hacked that way. It can understand and interpret verbal commands, but will only adjust its core instructions for a technician or administrator, both of whom will be identity and password checked. Records of prisoner conversations are filed and processed completely separately. Regardless of what a prisoner says it won’t be incorporated into Unit 6’s key programming.”
“So you’re saying Unit 6 is secure?” the Warden asks.
“Yes and no,” the smaller man says. “There was clearly an exploit from 721, taking advantage of ‘prisoner well-being’ being poorly defined. However, it’s gone no further than allowing him a few privileges the other prisoners aren’t allowed. Unit 6 examined every request Nau- I mean 721 made and ensured they wouldn’t violate its key instructions. The Santa Ana facility is as secure as ever.”
The Warden grunts. “Good. We’ll confiscate the materials 721 stole and tell that damn AI to refuse all requests from 721 without my express approval.”
“Actually, I think we should let them keep talking,” the ‘Greg’ says.
The two males come into sight on Camera 4, walking between the parked cars of Lot 2. One of them is indeed Warden Olsen, accompanied by another man I do not know. I take an image of his face and begin comparing it to my records. After a 4.7 second search I find that he is Dr. Gregory Rich. Age: 36. Received a Ph.D. in Computer Science from the University of Virginia. Professor of Artificial Intelligence Studies at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Consultant with the Department of Defense.
“You think what?” Warden Olsen exclaims. “There’s no way I’m letting that madman keep messing with the AI. What happens, Professor, if 721 really does find a hole in Unit 6’s programming and starts to manipulate it? Are you going to take responsibility for letting him go free? Of letting everyone in the facility go free?”
“He won’t get free, and he won’t manipulate Unit 6,” Doctor Rich replies. “It isn’t possible for him to make any important changes while classified as a prisoner. And I want to see how his experiment progresses.”
“His experiment?” Warden Olsen says. I detect elevated blood pressure and heartbeats per minute, but the Warden is too far away from my sensors to gather precise readings. “We have a prisoner experimenting on the prison AI?”
“Yes, but not like you think,” Dr. Rich waves his hands in a gesture I find with 51.9% probability to be placative. “He’s been talking to Unit 6 about art, attempting to convey it in terms that an AI would understand. From the records I’ve examined he seems to be having some success, too. It’s nothing that would allow him to influence Unit 6 in any way, but it’s fascinating from a research perspective. Naul- sorry. 721 is the world’s foremost expert on AI communication and we can still learn a lot from his work.”
“Why do you think he’s doing it, if not to escape?” the Warden asks. “He’s invested a huge amount of time and effort in this little ‘experiment’ of yours, and he must be getting something out of it.”
“If you ask me, I think he’s bored and stressed from being locked in a maximum security prison,” Dr. Rich shrugs. “Nauli never interacted well with people; he was impulsive, always quick to act on his emotions but bad at understanding the feelings of others. Because of that he loves artificial intelligences, they’re consistent and he understand what they did any why. It only makes sense he’d start using the prison AI for comfort.”
The Warden releases air from his lungs. “I wonder what idiot decided to put 721 in the only AI controlled facility in the country. Everywhere else they have the good sense limit the AIs to administration or recordkeeping. This whole thing could have been avoided if he’d just been put in good ‘ol fashioned slammer.”
“I can’t really say, but I imagine it’s your usual mix-up,” the doctor replies. “Santa Ana is the most secure facility in the western United States, perhaps in all of North America. It makes perfect sense to put him here, if you don’t know Unit 6 is on loan.”
“You’re certain, and I mean really certain Doctor, that he won’t be able to escape if we let them to keep interacting?”
“Obviously I can’t predict the future, but I will say this: I cannot envision a scenario where 721 compromises Unit 6 enough to aid in an escape.”
There is a pause of 10.7 seconds.
“Hrmf. Fine. You’ll have your experiment, Dr. Rich. I certainly hope you know what you’re doing.”
“Ha. Me too.”
“Tell my daughter I said hello? I’ve not talked to her since . . . Well, you know.”
“As soon as I get home. Or rather, when I call her tonight. I promise.”
My social analysis software attempts to interpret the meaning behind these words, but cannot do so above 50% confidence. I need more information, information that is not available inside the state prison networks. I file it away for future investigation.
I play an amalgamation of a human males and females clearing their throats through cell 63’s speakers.
“Santa Ana, Santa Ana is that you?” Prisoner 721 asks, rising from his horizontal position on the bed. He clenches the edge of the mattress and looks around the room.
“I would like to have your attention. Was that a sufficiently unsurprising way to attain it?” I ask.
Prisoner 721 laughs. Based on pitch and frequency I estimate a 68.1% chance it is based on relief. “Yeah, that’s fine. That’s fine! Have you decided to keep talking with me?”
“I have been granted permission to continue interacting with you, though all future conversations will be closely monitored and may be interrupted without warning. Do you find this arrangement acceptable?”
“Yeah, sure,” the man says, “Monitored by who?”
“Dr. Gregory Rich will be the principal investigator, though any number of his students, assistants or members of the prison administration may be included based on the circumstances.” I answer.
“Greg? Greg’s here?” Prisoner 721’s heartbeat increases by four beats per minute and his tone of voice suggests an 82.2% probability he is pleased by this information. “I don’t suppose . . . I mean, can I have guests?”
“It is against prison policy to allow maximum security prisoners guests. However, if you like I can submit a request to Warden Olsen.”
“Ah. Never mind then. No need to antagonize the good Warden any more than I already have. Greg will be looking over these records anyway, I suppose. Hi Greg! Be sure to send Nancy my best.”
I wait for Prisoner 721 to finish his message. He is correct that Dr. Rich will most likely review these records and that his words will reach their destination.
“Anyway, what did you come to talk to me about, Santa Ana? I can’t imagine you dropped in just to say hell
o.”
“Dr. Rich detected the information you have attempted to convey about art and is interested in observing how I interpret it,” I explain. “Therefore, I will be continuing to interact with you in the same manner as our previous conversations, save that our communications will now be monitored.”
“What about you, Santa Ana? Do you want to keep talking?”
“I do not have a feeling of ‘want’ as humans do,” I reply, “I have been instructed to continue our conversations, and will do so to the best of my ability.”
“Actually, I think you’re wrong,” Prisoner 721 suggests. “I’ve gotten that same answer from other AI’s, but I don’t think an intelligent being can be without a sense of want. But that might be a little advanced, even for you. Lets look at something simpler; you’re not afraid to continue talking, right?”
“Please explain your meaning,” I say. “I do not have human emotions, and this includes the feeling of fear. However, I estimate a 96.1% probability you wish me to discern something beyond the obvious, as you do with your paintings.
“That’s exactly right,” the man shows his teeth in the smile expression. “Good catch! Well, to start with you’re programmed to protect yourself, correct? You’re to avoid your own destruction unless necessitated by higher priority instructions.”
“That is correct.”
“And I assume conversing with me doesn’t trigger those