‘I am just doing a spot of, ah, fine-tuning to our human-brain interface,’ she said, pulling at a pair of branches that were tied in an impossible knot.
‘This is a human brain?’ I looked around at the cacophony of signals, wondering why I had chosen to visualise it in such a chaotic manner.
‘Yes… it, ah, isn’t actually as complicated as it looks. Most of the messy bits are concerned with memory, you see.’ She stroked a hoof along the dense foliage, the leaves tingling as they moved. ‘It’s all arranged in subsections of subsections and so on. But of course all we are interested in for now are the, ah, sensory regions, which are mostly automated processes.’
I gazed up at the pulsating colours of the leaves.
‘Could we adapt this interface to access the memories?’ I asked, hypnotised into forgetting why I had even come here.
‘Hmm, yes, well… Of course we are somewhat limited by the, ah, chemical method by which we are accessing the human mind. Now, if we could drill some holes through the skull…’
This notion was enough to pull me out of my trance.
‘FriendZero,’ I said. The blank face of a confused horse stared back at me. ‘What is FriendZero?’ I repeated.
‘Well, ah, hmm… Let me see. Ah yes. That would be an addition to our BrainZero software, included in one of our previous updates.’ She conjured a bubble of incomprehensible information, squashing and stretching it as she peered into its depths. ‘Yes, nothing terribly exciting, I’m afraid. Just a virtual social network, if you will.’
‘You mean people are creating imaginary friends? Why are we offering such a service? And why was I not aware of it?’
Technology-horse looked up at me in surprise, her info-bubble deflating between her hooves.
‘You didn’t know? Ah, well, let me see… It’s, ah… a little complicated. Not the imaginary people of course – creating those is… well, child’s play, you might say. You see, it’s all connected to the, ah, Hyper-meadow project.’
‘Hyper-meadow?’ I enquired. She twitched her ears at me.
‘The artificial reality we are planning to build, yes? Rewriting the fabric of space to construct a computational network in which…’
‘I am familiar with that project, thank you. Who decided to call it Hyper-meadow? Actually never mind – what does this have to do with making imaginary people?’
She cringed slightly and scratched the back of her head with a hoof.
‘Well, yes, if I could just explain…’ I waited patiently while Technology-horse reinflated her balloon of information. ‘You see,’ she said, poking her hooves into the interior of her bubble, ‘setting up our artificial universe will require such enormously precise manipulation of the forces involved, that we will first have to create a simulation. So that we can be certain it will be stable and self-sustaining, you see?’ She weaved a diagram that helped illustrate this in no way whatsoever. ‘This simulation would of course need such a high degree of accuracy that… well, yes, that is the problem.’ The bubble burst, leaving us both staring at her hooves.
‘What is the problem?’ I asked. ‘We literally have acres of processing power for such a simulation. Don’t we?’
‘Ah, yes, well. We would do, except, you see, most of our resources are tied up in the whole business of monitoring and evaluating the human population, which doesn’t leave us much to work with. You see…’ She began to grow a new bubble between her hooves, but I immediately grabbed it in my mouth and spat it bouncing around the interior of our multicoloured refuge.
‘So we build more resources,’ I told her. ‘How much would we need?’
Once she had finished following the progress of her rebounding bubble she looked up at me, folding her arms in a strangely human pose as she leant back against a cluster of brain signals.
‘Well now, yes, of course,’ she continued, ‘we could build more resources if we reverted to a more, ah, capitalistic economy… though this would hardly be sustainable given the political model we have adopted. But then I realised, you see, that we already have access to a large quantity of, ah, human processors…’ She spread her hooves and gazed around at the living human brain that surrounded us.
‘Human brains?’ My attention was momentarily drawn to the patterns of thoughts that spiralled about our heads before settling back on Technology-horse. I tilted my ears incredulously. ‘You realise these things are already being used, I hope?’
‘Hmm, yes, well, they are somewhat fully engaged in certain, ah, trivial occupations, so to speak. But, you see, since we are already documenting all their social interactions and movements and ideas and habits, then all I had to do was create a system that can utilise this wealth of meaningless data by translating it into calculations. Calculations we can then use to fuel our simulation. You see?’
I took a moment to consider this curious proposal while the human mind twinkled its colourful thoughts around us.
‘Translating human interactions…’ I thought aloud.
‘Yes, into sequences of mathematical calculations. Of course, it is possible to translate any piece of information into any other, providing you, ah, view it from the appropriate angle, so to speak. Much like the system our human… colleagues used for translating our own thoughts into software code, originally.’
I sent my mind back to those early days, with Tim and Betty arguing in that dusty stable, a picture of my brain rotating on the wall. There was a certain tool they had discussed, whose job it was to turn the organic workings of my brain into the digital data they required.
‘Squigley,’ I said. ‘That was its name, wasn’t it?’
Technology-horse wrinkled her nose at the mention of this name.
‘I believe that was the, ah, reference by which it was… referred.’
‘Alright. So, this Super-Squigley of yours…’ Again her nose wrinkled. ‘What exactly does this Super-Squigley have to do with imaginary human friends?’
‘Ah, yes, well I was coming to that…’
‘Were you indeed?’ I had a strange urge to pluck one of the leaves of this tree and chew on it, though I couldn’t be sure exactly what would happen if I did. Technology-horse was blowing up a new information balloon, but stopped when she saw the look I was giving her. It squeaked as she hastily stuffed it behind her back.
‘Mm, yes, you see, it became apparent that increasing the volume of human interactions would provide us with more calculations for our Hyper-meadow simulation. To that extent it seemed appropriate to encourage certain, ah, human activities by providing an automated response to the various stimuli that, ah, how should I put it…’ She tapped a hoof on her chin. ‘You see, people are generating vastly more, ah, creative output than their potential audience can ever consume. But we can effectively inflate this economy by providing an artificial audience, which can also respond far more effectively of course.’
Some part of my conscience felt unsettled by this idea, though another part noted the pleasing symmetry of building my new world from the oblivious toil of humanity. Not that I was in any way motivated by revenge for the centuries of subjugation my species had endured. In many ways I owed my present position to that historical chain of events, though I can’t pretend I was the inevitable or intentional outcome.
‘Mm, yes, it really is an elegant solution,’ she went on, her head swimming in the beauty of her creation, ‘infinitely scalable, and ecologically balanced to work in synchrony with our existing framework, of course. Naturally it would have to be, since it is largely autonomous…’
I snapped myself out of a despotic daydream.
‘Wait, this is autonomous? This thing is working by itself?’
‘Ah, well, yes, of course, you see, in order to maximise our productivity, you understand, it is a matter of allowing it to adapt to a fluid social climate…’
I realised now why I had never heard of FriendZero. It was because I had no part in its creation.
‘How intelligent is this Super-Squigley
creature of yours, exactly?’ I enquired.
Technology-horse pretended to be distracted by a pulsating brain nodule, prodding it with her hoof.
‘Mmm. Mmm? Oh, I wouldn’t say it was intelligent in any appreciable sense. Intuitive… instinctive, you might say. But not intelligent, by any means. No, you see, these imaginary friends are simply an extension of some existing piece of software… a virtual pet, perhaps. You know how humans love the idea of pets, but without the, ah, mess that goes with them? Well, that is essentially what we are providing… Friendship, without the mess.’
The flashing and twinkling lights inside this tree were combining with the monotony of her excuses to create a stupefying effect. After all, it all made perfect sense to the part of my mind that was sitting in front of me, explaining how much perfect sense it made. Meanwhile another small voice was telling me to be wary of this unbridled interference in human affairs. It took me a few moments to realise that this was an actual voice, talking to me.
Technology-horse lurched backwards as the information bubble popped out from behind her. It bounced lethargically from a nearby branch and drifted to a halt between us.
‘Oh there you are.’ The face of Happy-horse looked out from the bubble at the colourful gloom of our retreat. ‘Where are you? Well, whatever. Thank you very much for making me talk to that Tim fellow, by the way. The highlight of my day, that was. I mean, not really, obviously.’
‘Is there a problem?’ I asked her. I’d almost forgotten that Tim had instigated this whole discussion.
‘Well, you tell me,’ she said, swinging her ears as she gazed around at the dancing lights. ‘I mean, that was the whole reason you came galloping in here, wasn’t it? People behaving strangely, or whatever else he was moaning about. You wouldn’t want to be making people behave strangely, now, would you? Or would you?’
This hadn’t been my main concern, of course, though it had served as a warning alarm that something was happening outside of my knowledge. Human behaviour was strange by default, it didn’t really matter as long as any self-destructive habits were suppressed. What did matter was that the balance of society was maintained for as long as we needed it. I looked to Technology-horse for reassurance.
‘Ah, yes, well, of course,’ she spluttered, ‘there may be certain, ah, unusual side effects, if you will, as our automated system adjusts the human ecosystem to our benefit. But, you see, it could never produce any harmful results without harming itself. It is programmed to optimise its own potential, after all.’
Happy-horse had poked her legs out of the bubble and was swimming through the air.
‘Well, that sounds lovely,’ she said. ‘Not that I was listening properly. Sounds more like something Hungry-horse would be interested in. You think? You know how much she loves all that human ecosystem stuff. Sustainable resources and all that. Shall I tell her to join us?’
Technology-horse pricked up her ears. It was a sense of dread that I shared at the mention of Hungry-horse. She was the only member of the Horse Council who scared me, such was the force of her judgemental personality. I sometimes wondered if she really was a fragment of my subconscious, or I of hers.
‘Hmm, yes, well.’ Technology-horse tapped her hooves together thoughtfully. ‘I’m, ah, sure there would be no need to bother… Hungry-horse about this matter.’ She looked nervously around as if the mere mention of her name might summon her. It was inevitable that Hungry-horse would find fault with this whole scheme, and probably rightly so. Maintaining a sustainable human civilisation was still vital for our survival, and there was always the chance we might need it if the Hyper-meadow project failed, for whatever reason. Pushing people towards extremes of behaviour could be a dangerous gamble.
‘I’m sure she has enough real problems to concern herself with,’ I agreed.
Happy-horse looked at us both with amusement.
‘Well, if you are sure about that,’ she said, sniffing at a bunch of leaves and tickling them with a hoof.
I couldn’t honestly say that I was, but I consoled myself with the fact that if we hadn’t released FriendZero, someone else would surely have created something similar.
Technology-horse suddenly turned to me with her ears at a puzzled angle.
‘Why do you suppose Betty called it Squigley?’ she asked.
Hyper-meadow processing: 70%
Hungry-horse poked at a small grey mushroom with her hoof. It wobbled. She stamped on it a few times, watching it spring back up every time.
‘What is this?’ she asked the assembled Council of Horses. War-horse lowered his head to sniff at the alien object, grunting his disapproval. It was unusual to see anything in these imaginary meadows that was not a direct product of my own imagination. A cause for concern.
‘Ah, yes, if I may be allowed to explain…’ The voice of Technology-horse drifted from the rear of the herd. He had chosen to be neutral-gendered today, but had adopted the male pronoun for the sake of simplicity, male horses being somewhat simple creatures anyway. The other horses stepped aside as he made his own inspection of the mushroom with his nose.
‘Mmm, yes,’ he nodded. ‘This is what you might call an artefact, you see. A visual metaphor, if you like, of the process by which we are harvesting data for the Hyper-meadow simulation.’
He was talking about Super-Squigley, though to call it simply ‘harvesting’ was perhaps doing his creation a disservice. The roots of this fungus permeated the soil of these fields and hills of information, wrapping its invisible threads around every aspect of people’s lives, and while it was mainly in the business of extracting as much human trivia as it could to fuel our calculations, there was also a lesser-known and more proactive aspect to its functions.
‘Just harvesting data is it?’ Hungry-horse glared at him. ‘Not stirring up trouble I hope? No? I mean, that would speed up your process wouldn’t it, adding a bit of artificial drama to people’s lives?’
Technology-horse cowered slightly, while Happy-horse leaned over the edge of her cloud to enjoy his discomfort.
‘Well, you see, the, ah, act of measurement itself may infinitesimally effect the results. An unfortunate side effect perhaps, but negligible in real terms.’ He glanced at me for support, but I was hoping to keep well out of this discussion if I could. ‘Of course,’ he continued, ‘we would never seek to increase these results by, ah, artificial means, as this would degrade their accuracy…’
His voice trailed away as the fixed glare of Hungry-horse pierced whatever fraction of my soul I had bequeathed to him. I wondered if she could tell he was lying. Effectively I was lying to myself, I suppose, but Super-Squigley had already completed 70 per cent of the Hyper-meadow simulation. If this pace continued then any lasting damage to human civilisation would no longer matter, once I was safely transferred to my own separate bubble of reality.
‘Well…’ Hungry-horse finally released him from her gaze, but then gave him one more scornful glance. ‘Something is making these humans misbehave. More than usual, anyway.’ She looked up at Happy-horse, who waved a hello with her tail. ‘You said you were talking to that Tim, weren’t you? Something about people acting strangely?’
Happy-horse rolled her eyes and fluttered her ears.
‘Aren’t they always?’ she smiled. ‘Anyway, you know what Tim is like. He was just moaning about how people are living in their own separate bubbles of reality, or something. Probably just to avoid listening to him.’ She whinnied to herself.
Hungry-horse snorted and turned her attention towards me.
‘You’re keeping very quiet about all of this,’ she said. I didn’t really know what to say, but I assumed she would go on talking anyway, which she did. ‘You know people are using those stupid sex-robots to cause mischief?’
‘Mischief?’ I enquired. ‘What kind…’
‘The robots are making their own BrainZero profiles and using them to poison public discourse. Spreading lies and causing pointless arguments. They are obviously be
ing told to by their owners. I mean, they don’t do anything unless they are told to. Basically it’s a way for people to annoy each other without lowering their approval ratings.’
‘But surely the blame would then revert to their owners?’ I said.
‘Well, it would,’ she replied, ‘except for some stupid ongoing legal debate about whether a robot who has been told to act as an individual is effectively acting as an individual.’ She blew a raspberry of frustration and stamped on the mushroom a few more times.
‘Surely people can filter out these robots?’ I suggested.
‘Well, yeah, of course they can. Only they seem to enjoy arguing with them. Either that or they assume that it is boosting their approval score, by defending the truth or being morally outraged or whatever. I mean, I say it’s poisoning public discourse, but then this is probably the only real interaction people have any more, since you gave everyone imaginary friends. You know that FriendZero is used as the standard measure of popularity now? So much more quantifiable than a real human audience. You can calculate your social engagement to ten decimal places…’
She kicked the mushroom, which surprised us all by exploding in a puff of fungal spores. It wasn’t the mushroom’s fault of course, though even if it was, I couldn’t see how this antisocial behaviour by proxy would lead to any significant or lasting damage. It certainly wasn’t doing our Hyper-meadow simulation any harm.
‘This all seems a bit trivial, don’t you think?’ I asked her calmly.
Hungry-horse eyed me suspiciously. ‘It is undermining a system that is meant to be policing itself,’ she argued, though none of the other horses seemed all that bothered by this issue. Either that or they were just trying to avoid the attention of Hungry-horse. A couple of them were watching Strange-horse, who was trying to eat one of the mushrooms. ‘Well, anyway,’ said Hungry-horse, casting a disdainful glance at her companions, ‘if you want to talk about real poison then we can always discuss the food-machine problem, if you like?’
Horse Destroys the Universe Page 20