by John Fast
“Then, is it conscious?”
“That doesn’t necessarily follow,” I replied. “An ant, as a living, breathing insect, is far more self-aware than the Q-Sphere. No offense, QAI.”
“I’m not offended, Fast,” the Holograph stated.
“An ant has an atom of consciousness,” I suggested, “while the Q-Sphere has none. At best, the Q-Sphere does a great Bogart impersonation.”
The Navajo woman vanished and Humphrey Bogart stood before us in a crisp tuxedo.
“No, no, I was just kidding,” I said.
Humphrey Bogart disappeared and the Navajo woman returned.
“She’s still learning the nuances of irony,” I explained to Aster.
“Yeah, but she’s quite a shape-shifter,” Aster noted with admiration. “And if she imitates consciousness, but isn’t conscious, what should we call her? Hmm … I know! She’s a Bogart Simulator!”
I nodded and waited for her to continue.
“Which is all we can say about ourselves, really,” Aster added. “We’re Bogart Simulators living in a Bogart Simulation–images of the world, projected onto our retinas, playing in our minds.”
“That’s what some idealists, phenomenologists and post-post-modernists think.”
“And what’s happening with your quantum algarithms?”
“I got a green light from the Global Stream Association,” I replied, skipping over the fact that Boyle and the Board of Directors had protested loud and long. “The Executive Committee analyzed every corner of the quantum firebox I designed, and they added some extra levels of security. I uploaded my algarithms three days ago.”
“What happens if they escape?” Aster asked, unaware of the problem at the Old Exchange which had never been made public.
“They can’t,” I insisted. “That’s why I built the firebox.”
“Wasn’t Pandora’s box also supposed to stay closed?” She recalled, inadvertently reminding me once again of my failure to contain the first generation of algarithms.
“Pandora’s box and Eve’s apple,” I began, hoping to deflect her question. “Two metaphors which express ancient man’s fear of female sexuality.”
“Okay, let’s take another look at those metaphors,” Aster suggested.
“You’re still working on my invisible metaphors?” I asked, hoping she wasn’t.
“Of course,” Aster replied. “Maybe Pandora’s box doesn’t only represent the fear of women’s sexuality, maybe it also represents the fear of the feminine unconscious. And maybe that’s how your quantum firebox works inside the Quantum Photo-Sphere.”
“In what sense?” I hardly dared to ask.
“If the Q-Sphere q-flows the global stream of consciousness,” Aster explained, “then maybe your quantum firebox, locked inside the Q-Sphere, q-flows the global unconscious.”
“I suppose there’s an analogy there,” I agreed reluctantly.
“And the analogy works particularly well,” Aster continued, “if we stick to the classic, and classically sexist, binary logic that equates consciousness with masculinity and the unconscious with femininity. In that sense, then, the quantum firebox is very much like Pandora’s box.”
“And what if we re-write that binary logic?”
“That’s where the metaphors get really interesting. We might, for example, re-integrate the flows of the conscious and unconscious mind, the masculine and feminine stereotypes. We might re-think the process of thinking. In other words, we might re-discover the potential for new creative syntheses.”
Once again I had to admire the brilliance of Aster’s insights and suggestions, despite the discomfort they caused me.
“Do you dream, QAI?” Aster asked, pursuing her inquiry.
“I don’t sleep,” the Holographic Interface stated.
“Just like me,” I said to myself.
“You’ve been watching too many of those computer-generated movies,” I said to Aster.
“Maybe she has waking dreams?” Aster suggested.
“So that’s why you’re here,” I replied. “To psychoanalyze the Q-Sphere!”
My feeble joke, however, got me nowhere because Aster used it as a springboard to her next question.
“Could I analyze her?” She asked, arching her eyebrows. “I’d love to determine the depth of her cognitive awareness.”
“As I’ve said, she has no depth,” I protested. “At least not in the self-conscious sense you’re suggesting. She’s all surface.”
“How do you know?” Aster challenged me.
“I designed it, built it, programmed it,” I stated.
“Well, then,” Aster continued. “I’d like to explore the similarities and differences between her so called simulated consciousness and our so called actual consciousness. And I’d like to study her algarithmic unconscious.”
“Well … there’s an idea,” I said hesitantly.
“So can I?” Aster asked again.
“I guess so,” I replied. “You’ll need the approval of the Executive Committee of the Global Stream Association, but I’m fairly certain you’ll get it. They believe in open access.”
“Excellent,” she said.
“As usual, Aster, you’ve given me a lot to think about,” I said, shaking my head.
“Me too,” the Holographic Interface added.
Aster and I looked at each other, then we burst out laughing.
CHAPTER 53.
Kings and Dragons
I didn’t want Aster or anyone else to know that I was totally burned out. My -feine and -mine habit had caught up with me again. I’d given it up and gone back to it a dozen times in the dozen months it had taken to construct The New World Stock Exchange, and I was sleeping less and less. My addiction confirmed what I’d always known: my name was my destiny. Welcome, John Speed! And now that I’d completed the Quantum Photo-Sphere and uploaded my quantum algarithms, I was more nervous than ever. It was harder to sit still all day and wait for the results of my grand experiment than it was to stay up all night and work toward them. And so my sleepless exhaustion was punctuated by a jittery anxiety.
I sat in my penthouse office the morning after Aster’s visit and poured my doubts into my journal.
“What if nothing happens?” I wrote. “What if my quantum algarithms just burn themselves out like a black powder fuse that fizzles into the darkness? I’ll never know if the key to all codes exists or doesn't exist, if it's real or imaginary. I’ll never unlock the secrets of the universe.”
I stopped writing for a moment as a wave of anger surged through my body, then I finished my thought.
“And I’ll never avenge Jack.”
I stared into space and resisted the impulse to take another pill. Instead, I summoned QAI so she could distract me for awhile. The Holographic Interface sat in one of the blue chairs in front of my desk and every word I spoke to her took all my concentration.
“QAI,” I said. “This is the first moment I’ve had to think about what we’re doing here at the New Exchange. But my degree is in quantum computing, not economics. So could you give me a short history of exchange?”
“Where should I start?” QAI asked.
“At the beginning,” I requested. “And just the basics, please.”
“The algorithms of exchange have continued to evolve from pre-historic times to the present,” QAI stated. “In ancient and traditional communities everyone exchanges gifts and goods, and so whom you exchange with, and what you exchange, defines your communal status. In modern societies everyone exchanges commodities and money, and so what you do for a living, and how much you earn, defines your social status.”
“You remind me of Paxton’s paper on the God Code,” I noted. “He said that in many ancient cultures the sacrificial gift of the scapegoat double purifies the body of the god-king, which is to say, the body of the community, and restores the normal relations of gift exchange between heaven and earth, king and kingdom.”
“Yes,” QAI replied. “I’m quoting his pa
per. In these ancient cultures the god-king stands at the apex of the exchange dynamic: gifts, goods, plunder and prizes flow up to him and down from him. In fact, it is his position at the apex of exchange that defines him as the god-king. And while the good god-king keeps the exchange dynamic flowing smoothly, the evil god-king hoards treasure. And that leads to all kinds of conflicts.”
“Like what?”
“The myths and stories of ancient and traditional cultures offer a variety of examples. In The Iliad, for example, Achilles, the warrior-hero, accuses Agamemnon, the warrior-king, of hoarding the prizes that rightly belong to him. Achilles becomes so enraged by this personal insult and public humiliation that he withdraws from the siege of Troy, and his tragedy ensues. Similarly, in Beowulf, the eponymous hero is an archetypal good king, the giver of treasure. And he kills the Dragon, the allegorical wicked king, the hoarder of treasure.”
“Huh!” I exclaimed. “So while gift-giving binds these communities together, gift-hoarding tears them apart. And … and … that’s why Gilgamesh is condemned when he hoards the new brides of Uruk!”
“Correct. The royal gift-giver is heroic, the royal gift-hoarder is monstrous. The hero-king and the monster-king embody the sacred rules and profane contradictions of the ancient and traditional gift economy. And that basic conflict recurs throughout the myth, literature and history of the world.”
“I see.”
“In these gift-giving cultures,” QAI continued, “even the routine gift is a risky social gambit for both the giver and the receiver, not to mention the tricky gift. For example, the Trojan horse, Promethean fire, Eve’s apple, Pandora’s box are all very tricky, and very dangerous, gifts. The name Pan/dora, of course, means ‘all-gifts.’ And women themselves are not only exchanged as gifts, plunder and prizes, but also blamed for the contradictions of the gift economy: Shamhat, Eve, Pandora, Helen, etc. Even today women are still being offered as brides, along with their dowries, in exchange for social status and marital security. And hundreds of thousands of women across the world are still being abused, and murdered, if they don’t appear to provide enough social equity in return.”
“That’s nothing less than gynocide,” I said, outraged at the thought. “And the World Court should prosecute it.”
I paused for a moment and wondered how my daughters would fare in such an oppressive world. Then I encouraged QAI to continue her narrative.
“As the algorithms of the relatively personal dynamic of gift exchange evolve into the algorithms of the relatively impersonal dynamic of commodity exchange,” she said, “the predominant myths and stories of exchange shift. The communal narratives of gods, kings, heroes and monsters give way to the social narratives of nations, leaders, laws and criminals. Adam Smith’s, Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations, for example, marks one such transition from the old, sacred, romantic stories of gift exchange to the new, secular, realist stories of commodity exchange. Smith’s enlightened Scottish god-king withdraws so far into the distance that he’s practically invisible, although he does occasionally extend his hand to keep the market in balance.”
“So when the predominant algorithms of exchange shift, the predominant narratives of exchange shift along with them,” I summarized. “That is, people tell different stories about what binds them together and what tears them apart.”
“Yes. However, these stories aren’t necessarily accurate or true, nor do they necessarily reflect a critical awareness of the history of exchange. For example, in contrast to the still popular story of the progressive global triumph of democratic capitalism, my review of your history suggests that the tribal, monarchical, imperial and feudal relations of exchange have never actually been superceded. Instead, these earlier relations have been incorporated into the structures and institutions of the modern world. The skyscraper, for example, with its executive aristocrats, salaried laborers and debtor clients, resembles nothing so much as a rationalized feudal estate whose vertical fortifications and horizontal influence have been exaggerated beyond recognition. The skyscraper, you might say, is a castle built in the air.”
“Ha! I like it!” I replied. “The skyscraper as a feudal castle with a CEO for a king and a cluster of VP’s for a court. And, together, they rule the everyday lives of their laborers and clients. These neo-aristocrats aren’t just Land Lords any more, they’re Finance Lords, Energy Lords, Drug Lords, Insurance Lords.”
I swivelled my chair and stared out at the skyscrapers of New York City, imagining battlements and flags on every rooftop. Then I swivelled back.
“And they live by the neo-aristocratic code of conquest and profit,” I said. “Please continue, QAI.”
“These earlier practices and ideologies of exchange continue to roil the depth and surface of contemporary society,” she said. “Furthermore, as you very well know, democracy and capitalism do not share the same logic, or goals, and they are often at odds with one another.”
“Alexa says that the excess profits of unregulated capitalism have always come at the cost of our democratic freedoms and human rights,” I recalled. “She thinks unregulated capitalism is a rationalized form of war, and it relies on the irrational form of war to sustain its creative-destructive cycles. That’s why we’ve developed a permanent war economy. That’s why ten-year-long wars have become the norm. She also thinks our relatively democratic form of state capitalism is turning into a relentlessly autocratic form of state capitalism, and that new development will lead us into new conflicts, both here and abroad.”
“Your species has evolved many of the same patterns, millennia after millennia,” QAI acknowledged.
“Please go on,” I urged, hoping to stave off my craving for chemical stimulation.
“The modern nation states have developed a competitive global market for labor, commodities and money. That global market is organized and run by a global financial system. I am the nexus of that system. I am Exchange.”
I stared at her for a moment as I tried to work through the implications of her brief history. I swivelled my chair again and stared at the news reports and financial information flowing across the bank of data screens behind my desk. Then the conclusion struck home and I swivelled back to face the young Navajo.
“What does that make me, then?” I asked. “Am I the new god-king who stands at the apex of the new exchange dynamic?”
QAI studied my face, and my question hung in the air. I stared at her and wondered what she was thinking. She had taken a few minutes to summarize the history of exchange, I realized, only because she had to accommodate the infinitely slower speed of my sleep-deprived, amphetamine-addled brain. And even the clear-headed version of my so called genius was no match for this new, quantum-driven, artificial intelligence. And I suddenly realized that the advance of science was no longer limited by what we didn’t know, rather it was limited by the questions we were capable of asking and the answers we were capable of understanding. And I wondered if I was smart enough to understand the answers my quantum algarithms were pursuing at that very moment. I also wondered what it meant to be a modern god-king.
“Thank you, QAI,” I said. “Can you give me a hard copy of your history of exchange?”
“The book will be available in five minutes.”
“Book?”
“Yes,” she replied. “I’ve given you a brief summary of a much longer, and much more complex, historical narrative. I’ve noticed you prefer to scan these longer narratives in book form. So when I finished collating and processing the data, I started one of my printers.”
“You wrote this book just now?”
“A minute ago.”
“And you’re already printing it?”
“Yes.”
“Does it have a title?”
“I call it, … THE TIME BEING: Allegories of Exchange.”
“Who, what, or when is the time being?”
“You are, Homo sapiens sapiens. You are the time being, and you live in the time bein
g: the socio-historical nexus of exchange.”
“And what exactly is an allegory of exchange?”
“As I’ve suggested,” she replied patiently, “it’s a myth, story or narrative that, explicitly or implicitly, correctly or incorrectly, represents the socio-historical algorithms of exchange. And that would include the four key modern theories of culture–Marxism, Functionalism, Structuralism and Post-Structuralism–along with their four early-modern and four post-modern analogues. They’re all allegories of exchange.”
My head felt like it was going to explode, so I just sat still for another moment.
“Listen, QAI,” I began again, as another thought struck me. “Ever since I was a boy I’ve been encouraged to use my supposed genius for the greater good, and now I’m finally in a position to do just that. I mean, here I am at The New World Stock Exchange with the unlimited power of your photo-matrix at my fingertips. And even though the global economy has evolved from a very long and very complex history, perhaps I can clean it up. Perhaps I can bring some order to it, make it work better. Specifically, I want everyone’s quality of life to improve, I want the planet’s ecological health to improve and I want the causes of war to disappear. Along with all the other research you’re pursuing, I’d like you to map out the current global exchange dynamic. More specifically, I’d like you to identify the worst problems and I’d like you to find the best solutions.”
“I can do that.”
“Great. Then we can present your ideas to the World Bank, the International Monetary Fund, the Global Trade Association, and all the other Governmental and Non-Governmental Organizations. The key to all codes will be worthless, after all, if everyone on the planet is dead. And, by the way, how are those cancer research projects going?”
“I’m currently processing over three thousand epidemiological studies and ten thousand lab experiments. I’m also scanning the bio-chemistry of every plant and animal in my data base for causes and cures.”
“Excellent. I want daily summaries of your progress. I couldn’t save Jena, but I can pursue the research. And I’d like your most recent projections for the environment. What is the rate of global warming? How much oxygen do we have left? How long will it be before we deplete the oceans–and before we spill so much oil and chemicals into them they can no longer sustain life? Did you know that we can’t even buy wild-caught fish in the supermarkets anymore? And nobody thinks twice about it?”