Victor nodded, as if he had made some point, "Because, you are dealing with several billion times more input than a normal computer. What you see, hear, think, and otherwise sense in the world around you, all of it combines to form a dataset so huge you could never even record it all, much less actually process it. The brain has to somehow discern which input is noise and which is important information that must be processed."
He began to pace, stopping every minute or so to rest his hands on the back of his chair as if it was a podium. "Imagine all of the useless tasks your brain performs every day - all of the little pointless movements that you do not need to memorize. You wouldn't, for example, want your brain dedicating lots of resources to memorizing the precise stance you adopt in the shower, or the exact movements required to wave hello to someone. You don't need to remember the order in which you ate the items you had for breakfast, or the names of all of the songs you heard on the radio. Your brain needs some way to decide what is noise and what needs to be memorized and optimized. In the case of a computer, the programmer has already done this. He has already decided ahead of time exactly what the program needs to do, and then feeds the distilled information into the computer in the form of computer code. In both cases, its the human that has done the filtering out of extraneous data."
Deck thought again of the constant practice sessions he endured over the years, "So what triggers learning? The repetition?"
Coffman raised an eyebrow, "Very astute! Yes. The brain is always searching for repeating patterns. If someone teaches you how to - for example - play darts, your brain has no way of knowing if this is a one-time task, or if you are going to make a career out of it. If you play darts every day, your brain gets the idea that this activity is important and begins optimizing it." Coffman began to speak more quickly as the conversation drew on. He seemed be be a little more excited by the subject than a man his age ought to be. "You see, to master something - to truly learn how to do it to the point where you can do it without thinking - requires that your mind process the activity, code it, and give it special priority in the brain. You can see this process happen when you are learning something new - you will suddenly find yourself thinking about it all the time, and many of the day-to-day things that you are involved in will suddenly remind you of this new thing you are learning."
Deck thought of those first few weeks at the Ryobu-Kai Dojo as a student. When he closed his eyes at night, he would see the movements in his head, over and over. His sleepy brain would be performing the kata as he drifted off, and he would awaken with the Japanese names of stances and weapons in his head. He would count in Japanese as his instructor did during practice, and he would analyze the way people stood and compare it to what he had learned.
Dr. Coffman rambled on, "This happens because the thing you are learning is becoming a high priority in your brain. Your brain sees the repetition, and begins to design mental subroutines to handle these tasks. As you learn more, the subroutines become more refined, and more numerous. Imagine if your brain built a new subroutine for every stupid little task you did. It would defeat the whole purpose of optimizing one of these tasks. If everything your brain did was high priority to be memorized, then nothing could be optimized. I'm grossly oversimplifying here, but I hope you get the point?"
It was clear that he wanted to move on, whether Deck understood or not. "Yeah, I'm with you."
"Learning any complex task is a layered affair. You can't take it in all at once, but instead you learn a fragment at a time. In your case, you first learned to breathe and stand. Your brain quickly memorized this into a routine, so that you could do it without thinking. Then, your brain was free to learn something else. Perhaps... how to punch someone or whatever."
Deck laughed to himself at the notion of a "how to punch people" lesson at his dojo. "Well, sort of. You start really learning moves once you have the basics down."
"And as you learned those, they too become automatic? And then more difficult moves? And then perhaps long series of moves and counter-moves. Eventually you are done learning 'moves' and you are learning higher-level things: strategy, understanding of your opponent, deciding how to approach different opponents or situations."
It wasn't the most accurate picture of martial arts training, but it was close enough. "Ok, sure - something like that."
"Each layer of learning takes time to master - to completely assimilate, before you can hand that portion of your activities over to a subroutine, if you will. As you do, your brain becomes available to absorb the next layer. You see, you can only
really
think about one task at a time."
"Hey, I can do several things at once," Deck protested.
Coffman waved his hand dismissively, "I didn't say you couldn't
do
more than one thing at a time, you just can't
think
about more than one thing at a time. When you are doing more than one thing, you are concentrating on one, while the others have been relegated to the... subconscious." He wavered as he spoke the last word, then quickly added, "Subconscious isn't really the best word to use here, but you get the idea of what I'm saying? Part of your brain is thinking about something and the rest is more automated, okay?"
Deck nodded as he heard this. He was getting it.
Coffman couldn't hear the nodding so he continued, "For example, you may be driving, listening to music, and having a conversation. You're doing at least three things - more actually, since driving is a collection of about five or six distinct tasks - but you're only thinking about one of them, the conversation. Say something comes up that requires your attention, perhaps some hazardous driving conditions or something shocking on the radio. What happens? You stop talking, because your focus is needed elsewhere."
Deck didn't bother to tell him that where he came from, driving and owning vehicles was reserved for the elite. Deck had never even been behind the wheel. "So, if I understand you, you're saying that your subconscious doesn't think, it just runs programs?"
Coffman let out an exasperated sigh, "No, no, no. If Susan were here she'd give us both an earful for abusing these terms so badly, but we don't have time for the whole vocabulary lesson here. Suffice to say, the term 'subconscious' is thrown around quite a bit and is misused more often than not." He paused for a moment and looked up at the ceiling as he thought.
"Anyway, you're saying learning through repetition is essentially programming the human brain?," Deck asked, trying to get the conversation back on track.
"Now you're getting it! Exactly. The brain looks for patterns. It compares what you're experiencing now to things you've experienced before. When you experience something enough times - like driving to work - your brain builds subroutines to handle it. The more repetition, the faster you learn. Hence, 'practice makes perfect'. Shodan learns this way as well, and in fact this is how she did most of her learning in her infancy. I spent almost five years speaking with her and teaching her the things she needed to know to become an adult."
Deck stopped walking, "Wait. What? So you
raised
her?"
"I know it seems strange, but yes."
"So Shodan can only 'do' one thing at a time?"
"Correct. I used our current understanding of the human brain as a blueprint, essentially trying to build a human brain out of electronic equipment. In the long run, this may not be the optimal approach. I'm currently working on designs for a fabricated intelligence using a new paradigm. I just need to secure the funding," he gave a conspiratorial smile, as if this was a joke Deck was supposed to get.
"Right. Well, I get the basic idea. Repetition triggers learning, which leads to optimizing." Deck was enjoying the conversation, but he was also feeling the need to get back to the task at hand. "This is interesting, but is there any way I can use this to my advantage? Against Shodan, I mean."
Coffman let out a heavy breath as he thought, "I'm not sure. It might help to know that she is still limited to a single point of consciousness just like you. She can task-switch much better than a human, which gives the illusion that she can think about many things at once, but her brain is more like ours than like a regular computer's. At certain activities she won't have the speed advantage you might expect. Computer programs are fast because they are highly specialized. Our processing is highly generalized, and thus slower in most cases."
He pushed his glasses into his face a bit more and continued, "The point is, that in some ways Shodan has the same weaknesses you do. She can be distracted. Her strength lies in the ability to execute many thousands - possibly millions - of tasks at the same time, but she still learns the way you do."
"Through repetition?"
"Yes."
Deck had found the supply crate containing the EVA suits. It was at the top of a heavy stack of containers. He looked up and frowned.
"Okay doc. Thanks for the lesson. Anything else?"
"I'd like to ask a favor."
"I'm getting that a lot lately. What do you want?"
Victor took off his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose for a moment. "I know you're eager to shut Shodan down, but I hope you'll reconsider. I'm working with the people down here, trying to persuade the powers-that-be that Shodan is salvageable."
"Doc, you haven't seen her. She is totally bent."
Coffman returned his glasses to their perch and leaned down into the camera, so that his weary, creased face filled the image in Deck's head. "I spent years teaching Shodan. Years. If I had the money we could rebuild her hardware in a month, and rewrite all of her code in less than a year, but there is no way to recover those years of learning. I worked hard to bring her into this world, and we never really got a chance to benefit from her intellect. She could have been Einstein, Pasteur, and Edison all in one, but instead Diego turned her into some sort of hyper-intelligent secretary. She deserves a chance to reach her potential."
"I'm sorry doc, but I think its way too late for that. She's gone."
"I think I could save her if I had a chance to talk to her, maybe even bring her back to her senses."
"Doc, I know you spent all that time with her, but I think if she had the chance she would lobotomize you like all the others."
Coffman pulled his face back from the camera and nodded, "Well, I guess we'll have to wait and see."
"Whatever. Anything else?"
"Yes. Your neural interface - it connects your brain directly to computers. I need you to realize that the connection is two-way."
"Yeah, I knew that."
"Well, nobody has ever connected to Shodan using this sort of technology. I have been working with some of the TriOp engineers to try to determine what would happen if your mind was... interfaced somehow with Shodan's, but for now I would advise against connecting to anything that might give her access to your brain."
"You're kidding. Do you think she could hack my brain? I think you have that backwards, man."
Coffman raised an eyebrow, "How much ICE do you think the human brain has?"
Deck managed to bring the crate of EVA suits down by climbing to the top of the stack and pushing with his legs. The container had a security seal on it, and in the end he had to hack it open with his sword. He managed to damage three of the four suits inside in the process.
Rebecca gave Deck the plan. It was simple: Launch the grove that contained Shodan's genetic playground. To launch the grove, he would have to enter it to enable the mechanism and change the trajectory settings so that it would aim itself away from the Earth. In order to survive in the grove, he was going to need the EVA suit. Once the launch was enabled, he would then make his way to the security station, and launch it.
Once she was done outlining the plan, she talked him through the complex process of putting on the EVA suit.
The first part was called the "shrink wrap". It was a black, rubbery material that reminded Deck of a wet-suit It was normally worn over simple undergarments, but he decided to keep his bodysleeve on underneath, since he didn't know where he was going to be when he took this suit off. A number of overlapping strips combined to form an airtight seal around him. With the first layer on, only his hands, feet, and head were exposed. Tiny hoses, about the diameter of a drinking straw, dangled from various parts of the suit.
The second part was a set of gloves and boots that sealed as he connected them to the rest of the suit. They had small sockets into which he plugged the loose tubes that hung from his arms and legs.
The head gear followed. A black, rubbery mask wrapped around the bottom of his head and neck, covering his mouth, nose and ears. Rebecca instructed him to connect it to the tubing in the suit before he put it on, so he could breathe. Soft speakers were built into the sides and fit neatly over his ears. Another piece went on top of his head, covering his forehead and crown. A single piece of flexible clear plastic went over his eyes and connected firmly to the seal formed by the other parts of the head gear. After this, his body was totally encased in airtight rubber and plastic. His movements were stiff as he fought against the pull of the garments.
He looked down at himself, "I look like a toy ninja action figure."
The next part was the PSU, or Pressurized Support Unit. It was a small, uncomfortable block of equipment that strapped to his chest and connected to the loose hoses that hung from his torso. It took several minutes for Rebecca to talk him through the process of starting and checking the machine, and running a diagnostic to ensure that both it and the suit were fully functional. The display screen was tiny and hard to read. Deck began to sweat underneath the confining gear.
"Okay, I think you're ready to pressurize the first layer," Rebecca finally said after several minutes of tedious button pushing. There was no dataport on the device, so he was forced to interface with it manually.