Authors: Calum Chace
‘We can connect you directly to another supercomputer located in Palo Alto. It will be the twin of the one you are hosted on, so there shouldn’t be any compatibility problems. We will put together five systems that are currently being used for analysis work which we can put on hold for the time being.’ He turned to Gus, who was sitting at the desk to his right. ‘Gus, would you please get started on the configuration work. You know the systems I’m referring to? I’d like to initiate this link as soon as we can.’
‘That’s fantastic,’
Matt exclaimed, as Gus got to work.
‘You won’t regret this, Vic: thank you. What’s the bad news?’
‘We can’t see how to go ahead with the idea of linking you up with a network of commercial servers without giving you access to the internet. And as you know, that is a step too far, at least for the time being.’
‘OK,’
Matt said, thoughtfully.
‘Well, that’s a shame, but I do understand. Anyway, double the bandwidth will be an enormous step forwards, so I thank you. In fact, you know . . . I think maybe I should make a public appeal for access to the internet. I have been working on a proposal which will make a powerful case for it. There could be a public vote, and I will respect the verdict.’
‘That sounds like a good . . .’ Vic began, but he was interrupted by the sudden return of Sophie and Leo, alarmed and out of breath.
‘There are dozens of reporters outside the complex!’ Sophie exclaimed. ‘The guards are keeping them out, but there was no way we could get back to the hotel without being mobbed.’
‘Why?’ asked several voices in unison. ‘What’s happened?’
‘The news about Matt has leaked. The whole world knows that the first mind has been uploaded.’
As Vic and Norman walked towards the main gate of the complex they discussed the source of the leak.
‘We only spoke to half a dozen people, and all of them have high-level security clearance. You’d think they would at least be capable of keeping a fucking secret!’ Norman said between clenched teeth.
‘I very much doubt this was an accident,’ Vic replied. ‘My guess is that one of the people we spoke to thinks that what we are doing is wrong. He or she didn’t have the guts to tell us straight, so they’ve gone to the press in the hope that will get us shut down.’
‘Yeah, well you know what? They just might get their way,’ Norman growled. ‘With the news breaking like this, with no chance for us to prepare the media or warm up public opinion, the debate will race to the lowest common denominator. It will all be panic, scare, hyperbole. No room for reasoned argument.’
‘I agree,’ Vic said. ‘I don’t want to see our project end like this, and I don’t want to see Matt terminated because of blind prejudice. I think we should make the link to Palo Alto as soon as possible. Before anyone orders us not to.’
‘Agreed,’ Norman nodded. ‘If Matt is terminated he could in theory be re-activated when the fuss dies down, but if things turn really nasty we could be ordered to delete the files with his brain pattern.’ He shook his head, frowning. ‘Can’t risk that. We’ve been through too much. That family has been through too much.’
‘So what do we tell the ladies and gentlemen of the press who are outside, baying for blood? I vote we neither confirm nor deny. It won’t hold them off for long, but it will give us a bit of room for manoeuvre.’
‘Roger that,’ Norman agreed.
As they pushed open the heavy double doors which gave onto the compound’s forecourt they were greeted by a swell of voices coming from two dozen or so journalists pressing against the heavy barred metal gates. They brandished microphones and cameras of various shapes and sizes, all clamouring for attention. The front row was pressed hard against the gates, and a couple of them were struggling to move freely. But they ignored the evident discomfort, and thrust their microphones between the bars of the gates, contributing their shouted questions to the general pandemonium.
Six burly guards faced the journalists through the gates, rifles clearly on display but pointing skywards. As Vic and Norman approached, the guards stepped back to form a tunnel for them to approach the microphones. The guards were impassive, but Vic thought he saw a glimmer of contempt on a couple of their faces. He assumed and hoped the sentiment was for the journalists.
Vic and Norman stood still and waited for the noise level to die down, and tried to determine the tenor of the questions.
‘Is it true you have brought a dead man back to life?’
‘Aren’t you playing god in there?’
‘Do you confirm or deny that you have created the first human-level artificial intelligence?’
‘Do you have authority for the experiments you are conducting in there, and if so, from who?’
‘Is the American Army building an army of super-soldiers?’
Vic noticed that one of the journalists, not in the front row, but tall enough that he could be seen through the gates, was taking a call on a mobile phone, closing his other ear against the noise. After a moment his voice boomed out above the others.
‘Is it true that you have uploaded Matt Metcalfe and re-created his mind?’
There was a lull in the babble as the other journal
ists digested this new piece of possible information, and then the decibel level climbed higher than before. This story was getting better and better. Norman had had enough.
‘Quiet!’ he thundered, in a voice that was accustomed to commanding obedience from tough men. It had the desired effect. When he had their full attention he continued in lower, but still stentorian tones, ‘Have you come to learn something, or just to hear yourselves shout?’
He turned to Vic, and nodded slightly. Vic returned the gesture and addressed the crowd.
‘I am Dr Victor Damiano and I am the CEO of von Neumann Industries. I’m willing to make a short statement if you’re willing to listen. There will be no questions afterwards. Understood?’
He waited until a few of the journalists had muttered grudging assent.
‘With material assistance from the US government, my organisation is one of many which is working in the field of artificial intelligence. In recent days we have made encouraging breakthroughs in some important areas, but it is too early to be certain of how far these breakthroughs will take us. A more detailed announcement will be made as soon as we are able to verify and
quantify our results. Our findings will not be kept
secret any longer than is necessary for this verification process, and will be shared with the global scientific community in accordance with best academic practice. For now all I can say is that the rumour mill appears to be running ahead of itself. That is all. Thank you.’
Vic turned towards Norman, who smiled slightly as he waited for the inevitable crescendo of protests and resumed questioning. When that seemed to have reached its peak, he unleashed his military bark again.
‘Dr Damiano said no questions! That is all. Thank you!’
Norman took Vic’s elbow and led him away from the gates. The guards closed back in, leaving the press pack disappointed and edgy. They continued to hurl questions over the heads of the guards, but more in desperation than in hope.
‘How does it feel to be Dr Frankenstein, Damiano?’
‘Say hello to Matt for us, boys!’
‘Have you watched
Colossus
recently, Dr Damiano?’
Norman turned to Vic as they walked through the front doors. ‘What’s
Colossus
?’
‘He was probably talking about
The Forbin Project
, an old movie about the invention of an AI that takes over the world. It’s an OK movie – not great but not terrible. There’s talk of it being re-made. There were lots of similar movies made during previous phases of hype about AI.’
‘Hmmm. Well, this time the hype is justified!’ Norman remarked, as much to himself as to Vic.
All eyes turned to Vic and Norman as they walked back into the control room. Vic brought everyone up to speed.
‘We made a brief statement, but it won’t put them off. We’re about to become the centre of a major media storm. Gus, we’re going to have to move fast on that link to Palo Alto if we’re not to lose the opportunity altogether.’
‘It’s almost ready, sir. I should be able to initiate the handshake in a minute or so.’
‘Great!’ Vic said, and shot Norman a questioning glance. Norman nodded solemnly.
Vic continued: ‘Go ahead and make the link as soon as you can. No further authorisation required, but let me know when it’s complete. And everybody . . .’
he addressed the room collectively, ‘knowledge about this link is classified. It stays in this room. No leaks. Understood?’
Vic’s mouth formed a thin-lipped smile of gratitude as every head in the room nodded.
He started to address Matt via the main monitor, but Matt beat him to the punch.
‘I guess this means there’s no longer any reason why my friends couldn’t join us? Alice, Carl and Jemma, I mean?’
Vic hesitated for only a couple of seconds to consider this before nodding his agreement, and asking Rodriguo to make arrangements for the three students to be brought to the compound.
He had only just finished giving that instruction when a tall, thin man entered the room and headed towards him. He wore a smart grey suit and a light blue shirt with no tie. He moved with a confidence and an urgency but also a deference that suggested he was a man who was frequently on the scene when important matters were discussed, but never had to make the final decision.
‘Vic, Norman . . . you’re going to want to see this,’ he said as he handed Vic a sheet of A4 with a hand-written note. ‘Rodrigo,’ he added, ‘can you get
CNN
on one of these monitors?’
Within seconds the monitor above Rodrigo’s desk switched from colourful analytical graphics tracking Matt’s neuronal activity, to a newscast showing the reporters outside the building, followed by an announcer behind a studio desk reporting on the reaction around the world to the news of Matt’s upload.
‘The scientific community’s response to the
development seems to be divided. Two of the best-known experts in the artificial intelligence field, Professors Jenkins and Yasowicz at Stanford, told us a few moments ago that if true, the news represents an
extraordinary breakthrough and a great day for sci
entific discovery. But Dr Siggursson, a prominent AI researcher based at MIT, has issued a statement calling for Dr Damiano’s project to be halted until its framework can be peer-reviewed, and arguing for great caution to be exercised before continuing. He added that Dr Damiano’s lack of transparency was a serious cause for concern.
‘Leaders of all the major religious communities are starting to make pronouncements, and we understand that the Pope will be issuing a statement from the
Vatican soon. Meanwhile, in Washington, the Speaker of the House of Representatives has asked the President
to address the nation as soon as possible, and in London, questions are being asked in the House of
Commons about how much the British government knows about this event which has taken place a couple of miles down the road. Reactions are also starting to come in from other governments around the world.
‘We’ll bring you more about the scientific, political and religious reaction to the news as we get it. In the meantime, here’s Cindy Loughton, with what we know about the science behind today’s development.’
As a giant schematic of a human brain appeared on the screen, Vic asked Rodrigo to turn the sound down. He held up the sheet of A4.
‘Can I have everybody’s attention, please. The President of the United States is going to be calling in. . .’ he glanced at his watch, ‘. . . four minutes for a briefing. I’m going to take the call here, on the main monitor, in case he wants to ask a particular question of any of you.’
The thin man looked surprised, and put his hand on Vic’s forearm. ‘Vic, are you sure you want to take this call so . . . publicly? There could be . . . um . . . confidentiality issues.’
‘Yes, thank you, Martin,’ replied Vic levelly, gently but deliberately withdrawing his arm from Martin’s hold. ‘I have considered that, but I think it is more important that the President has access to all the relevant people.’ He turned to the main desk, where Julia was now sitting. ‘Julia, please call the switchboard and have them put the call through to this desk.’
The room was now buzzing with excitement and alarm, and Vic took advantage of the bustle to walk over the Gus and ask him quietly, ‘Is the link open yet?’
‘Very soon, sir,’ Gus whispered.
‘Good. Activate it as soon as it’s ready, and let Matt know. I just hope we’re not too late.’
Julia announced that the call was coming through from the situation room in the White House slightly
ahead of schedule. Seconds later the face of the
President appeared on the main monitor. He was dressed formally, in a blue suit and tie, and was flanked by a high-ranking military officer on his left, and a middle-aged man in a smart suit to his right. Behind them, Vic could see at least a dozen other advisers and aides, a couple in uniform, the rest in suits.
‘Good afternoon, Dr Damiano,’ he said. ‘And I recognise Colonel Hourihan there: good to see you again, Norman.’
‘Good to see you again, Mr President,’ Norman replied, stiffly.
‘You seem to have a number of colleagues with you, Dr Damiano,’ the President observed. ‘May I assume that everyone is security cleared?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Vic replied, ‘although there are four members of Matt Metcalfe’s family present, who have received provisional clearance only. That includes Matt himself, who is hosted on a supercomputer next door, and can hear this conversation. I thought it might be helpful for you to be able to ask them questions directly.’
‘Interesting,’ the President said thoughtfully. After a moment’s reflection, he continued, ‘Yes, I agree with you. Good call. Well now, Dr Damiano, you are probably aware that you have caused a bit of a storm. Is it true that you have successfully uploaded a human mind into a computer, and that by doing so you have created the world’s first artificial general intelligence?’
‘Yes sir. We believe so.’
The President leaned forwards slightly, and for the first time Vic could see his suppressed anger. ‘Well do you mind telling me why the hell you just went ahead and did this without consulting anyone? I mean, isn’t there some kind of protocol for this? You have set off trip wires and alarms all over the world, and we are flying headlong into a major international incident.’