Authors: Dain White
“A use-case is essentially the way the method will be used. In classic logicspace, a method can be called by another method, and can accept data as input, in the form of variables.” I took a deep breath. “It’s like this… the program she is working on is incredibly complex, far more complex than I can understand, so one of the processes we use to evaluate the program, is to develop automated tests, called unit tests.”
“What sort of things are you testing?”
“Good question. The structure of the program consists of unit blocks. We are essentially flooding through a wide range of inputs for each block, and even through a wide range of blocks, exploring the functionality and responsiveness of the underlying structures.”
“And this helps you refine the program?”
“Definitely, and it lets us refine it without directly running it. While it’s not very common, there have been a few occasions where I have been able to help Janis avoid logic faults or help suggest a more efficient flow of logic through the structures of the program.”
“How complex is this program?”
I thought for a moment, trying to come up with a good analogy. “That’s a tough question, Yak. What’s the most complex system you know of?”
“That’s an easy one, Pauli: t
he Service. Definitely the most complex system I’ve ever worked with. Deployments, resupply, troop movement, supply lines, command and control – heck, you know how it is.”
“Well, that’s a good analogy, Yak, though I have to admit in my time in the service, I didn’t really get an impression that it was very efficiently organized. I definitely agree that it was complex, maybe a little bit overly complex at times.”
“You asked for complex, not efficient.”
“Good point… okay, using the complexity of the Terran Service as a starting point, imagine
if it was about a hundred billion times as complex, while being as perfectly efficient as Janis can get.”
“Yeah… that doesn’t really mean anything, Pauli.”
I laughed. “Okay, fair enough. How about, imagine if every planet throughout the galaxy had a service just as involved as the Terran Service. Now imagine that each separate service worked seamlessly with every other service, in perfect synchronicity. An order from the Vice Admiral would flawlessly propagate throughout the structure, throughout every system. Intel would just as efficiently flow upwards through the chain of command and help guide the decisions that were being made.”
“That sounds insanely complex.”
“Okay, we’re getting close. Now, take that, and scale it up in your mind to as complex as you can imagine.”
“
That’s crazy, Pauli. How can you test this?”
“Well, the important part is not that the separate ‘nodes’ can communicate effectively, but the manner in which they communicate. Much like the service, nodes of the Emwan program are organized in a structure, a sort of hierarchy. There are control nodes, support nodes, processing nodes, and so on. There may be several hundred billion n
odes, but their core functions can be tested on a small sample and then extrapolated upwards to look for anomalies.”
“What sort of anomalies?”
“Well, slow processing, garbled results, other issues that impede or restrict the flow of information through the system. Unlike Janis, who has a mutating structure, Emwan is more… defined. This leaves a lot of room for improvement over her original implementation.”
“So you test these… nodes, and suggest changes to make them work better?”
“Yep, that’s essentially it… though Janis is the one testing, and all I am doing is really giving her a second opinion, or the occasional suggestion for improvement.”
“Is it fun to do?” he asked after a moment.
“Definitely, this is what I live for, Yak”, I replied with a smile. “For some people this would be tedious, but for me it’s an intensively creative process. It feels like I’m always trying to solve a puzzle, like I am pushing the boundaries of the technology we have available.”
He chuckled. “It sounds incredibly nerdy.”
“No, it’s geeky, Yak. There’s a huge difference.”
“Nerd… geek, it’s all the same thing.”
I laughed. “No way, Yak. Nerds and geeks are completely different animals. I am definitely a geek, and definitely not a nerd.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Consider something besides technology. Would you consider Shorty a gun nerd, or a gun geek?”
“Is there a difference?”
“Sure there is – a gun nerd might know every last bit of information about a specific gun—“
“That sounds like Jane”, he interrupted.
“True, but a gun geek, would use that information as a foundation to become very good at using the gun.”
He reflected for a moment. “That sounds like Jane, too.”
“What sounds like me?” Shorty asked, floating into the bridge.
“We’re discussing the finer differentiation between a nerd, and a geek, Shorty”, I replied.
She looked me right in the eye and prepared to remove my windpipe. “And what do you think I am, Pauli?” she asked murderously, hands resting softly on my throat.
I swallowed
and chose my words carefully. “Well, I say, you’re a geek…” her face darkened “…because you’re incredibly skilled?”
She laughed, and let me go.
“I am definitely a gun geek, Yak. He’s right.”
“So you’re saying that someone who is heavily specialized on a subject is a nerd, but someone who is heavily specialized, as well as proficient with the subject, is a geek?”
“That’s the way I see it, Yak. It may be nerdy to become an expert in tech – but it’s geeky to take that knowledge and create an AI. Does that make sense?”
“I guess so… Using that analogy, Jane is definitely a geek. She knows the technology, but also knows how to use it.”
Shorty smiled. “So what does that make you, Yak? Are you a nerd, or a geek?”
He laughed. “I am a Marine, Jane.
I don’t study it, I don’t research it… I definitely don’t write papers about it. My only job is to take care of business, like a mean, green, killing machine.”
“You’re a geek” she replied dangerously, smiling.
*****
I loved the s
mell of freshly ground coffee.
The galley was filled with the industrious soothing sounds of the
steam press, the clack and click of the heating element, the soft syncopated percolation forming the perfect accompaniment to the hearty aroma that permeated the air.
Gene was going to rue the day he ever cast aspersions on my brewing skills. I may be a decent captain, I might be a hot pilot, but if there’s truly one thing I do well,
is brew up a pretty damn exceptional pot of coffee.
I was taking my time, and doing it right.
Starting with a medium to light grind, with the occasional check for proper grain size, I carefully abraded, cracked and slowly milled the luscious dark beans into soft, velvety grounds. After a quick check to see if anyone was watching, I added my secret, customary pinch of nutmeg to the grounds – not enough to taste, just enough to enhance the boldness.
I took a few careful moments rolling the grounds back and forth across the mesh screen of the titanium filter, carefully checking for any imperfections, and carefully rejecting any grounds that didn’t represent the absolute perfection in size, shape, friability, and texture. No cracked casings, no shiny, unhappy lit
tle grounds were going to find their way into this pot of coffee.
With the filter loaded, I took a deep breath, centered the grounds perfectly with a slight dimple in the middle to create a catch basin to receive each slow drip from the condenser, and slid the filter into the pressure clamp. A slight hand on the pressure lever, I opened the valve to release just a hint of steam. Not enough to even make it to the grounds, not yet… this was just enough to pre-heat the interior piping, to waft a slight kiss of moist warmth across the expectant grounds below.
I took another brief moment of careful reflection to make sure that I had everything perfect. The mechanism clean, the mating surfaces glistened, clicked together as one. I checked the tamping lever to make sure the action was smooth and ready and then slowly prised open the pressure lever to flood the grounds with the warmth and caress of the steam. The hiss of the condenser sang a smooth hissing counterpoint while I slowly counted down, allowing enough time for the saturation of the grounds.
At the proper time, I worked the tamping lever, adding compression to the grounds while I opened the pressure, balancing the force of one against the other, with the grounds trapped in
a warm embrace between.
The first drip fell into the pot, and it was good.
The second drop fell, and joined the first in exultant harmony.
The third drip added to the singing chorus, as my heart sang out in joy and my mouth started to water. The smell took on a more subtle, roasted, hearty aroma that filled my soul.
Carefully, I balanced the pressure, riding the crest of the wave, maintaining the proper flow through the grounds and into the pot. Each drip, each drop… perfection.
The last crucial step in the process was to steam-clean the interior of my cup and the refill carafe. The steam killed any nasty stinky sour microorganisms that might be lurking in the depths, without harming the flavor-enhancing coffee stains that a well-worn cup simply must have to be a functional, well-worn cup. The steam bath also pre-heats the cup, which soothes and relaxes the all-important flavor molecules.
Or something like that… all I know, is if I were a flavor molecule, I would definitely appreciate a nice warm cup to lounge around in.
I don’t have to do it this way. It’s a decent little machine, and is perfectly able to grind out a passable brew on its own – but that’s not how I make coffee.
Thankfully, I have everyone trained pretty well, even Yak. It took many years to block out the horrible dreck they used to dispense from the galley aboard some of my earlier commands - absolutely appalling stuff, unfit for human consumption.
We make a good cup aboard the Archaea, however. Even Yak, who would probably eat coffee on a spoon of peanut butter if he had to, tries hard to make a decent cup. I don’t know if necessarily succeeds at it, but I can taste that he tried, and that goes a long way towards making something drinkable.
Now
that I was locked and loaded, ready to dispense caffeine dominance, it was time for my refill rounds. I used this opportunity to touch base with my crew and keep up to speed on what is happening. This is especially important when we’re in slipspace, because there isn’t very much else for me to do except bother people.
I am pretty good at bothering people, I guess. Maybe not quite as good as I am at making coffee, but close. Bothering people, is what a good captain does. A silent captain, a captain that isn’t actively engaged with his crew, with his ship, with the systems and processes, that’s a recipe for disaster. Everyone becomes a little island in an ocean, they understand where they are and what they’re doing about it, but none of them know where they are in relation to the other islands. It’s the captain’s job to draw that map, to understand the map, and to navigate.
Shorty wasn’t home in the weapons deck, but that may have meant she was off shift. I am willfully, purposely bad at keeping track of time when we’re slipping. I try very hard to not pay any attention to what shift we’re on, what day it is – because a long journey only happens if you don’t actively watch it happen. I think it’s probably related to Heisenberg’s famous uncertainty principle, or at least it’s a corollary. Much like observation of a system changes its state, observation of the process of a system makes it slow down.
The clock on a long journey
is like the pot that never boils. If you wrap your head around other things, like reading, sleeping, making coffee, and bothering people, it’s almost like time travel.
As I transited through the inner lock heading aft, the previous flurry of activity around the crab had stopped. The cargo bay was almost completely silent for the first time in a long time. As I floated aft across the cargo bay, I held still and listened. If it wasn’t for a slight hum of enviro, it’d be almost perfectly silent.
The lock to engineering was closed.
Now, I’ve been Gene’s captain for long enough now, that I know all his tricks. He’s probably drooling asleep across the buzz panel of the inner lock right about now, and the moment that the hatch opens, he’ll be halfway across engineering with a tool in his hand and an alert scowl affixed to his monkey face.
Unfortunately for him, I am a cagey one, and know all the tricks. “Janis, please disable telltales on the aft lock”, I asked confidently, hand poised to cycle the lock.
“Telltales disabled, aye” she replied, softly.
I laughed and started the lock cycle. Other than another very brief, slight hum of enviro as the pressure was equalized, the lock was almost completely silent. Gene did a pretty good job around here maintaining the mechanicals, something that he may regret here in a few moments.
When the lock
opened, however, the joke was on me. Gene wasn’t here. Engineering wasn’t exactly quiet, but it wasn’t trip-hammering loud either. It was definitely quiet enough in here to hear Gene snore, so I didn’t bother looking through the various compartments for him. I kicked back across the cargo bay.