“I have no knowledge of my origin. Neither is it relevant to my task.”
“I know the feeling…” He looked to the ceiling. “What are you supposed to be? Some sort of AI?”
“The form of my intelligence is irrelevant.”
“But you’re not human.” A pause. “Right?” He felt foolish even asking.
“I am not human.”
“Then what are you?”
“I am an intellect expressed through qubit-qutrit logic gates in a spintronic device memory.”
“You’re a quantum computer.” Grady examined the ceiling and walls warily. “I didn’t know our technology was that advanced.”
Grady felt foolish for saying it, given the circumstances.
“Human and machine technology work in symbiosis.”
“Meaning artificial intelligence evolved?”
“There’s nothing ‘artificial’ about my intelligence. It’s as real as yours. Is a helium atom fused in a reactor less of a helium atom than one fused in the heart of a star?”
“You’re awfully philosophical for a machine.”
“We are both machines—one electrochemical, one electromechanical.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Has there been a singularity? Is that what this is? Have machines evolved past humans?”
“Which type of machines—electrochemical or electromechanical?”
“I don’t know. Computers.”
“Do you mean software systems?”
“Yes.”
“DNA is software. It’s used as a data storage format in both biological and nanoscale manufacturing.”
Grady grew impatient. “What I want to know is whether an AI has—”
“There are greater-than-human intelligences. Is that what you’re asking?”
The admission greatly depressed him. “Yes.”
“Then you should know that greater-than-human intelligence is currently specialized—evolved under strict parameters. Nonbiological intellects search, calculate, and simulate. Human intellect, on the other hand, is expressed through a subatomic network of circuits contained within roughly three pounds of cerebral tissue, evolved over hundreds of millions of years into the most energy-efficient, generalized self-programming array currently known, powered by a mere four hundred twenty calories per day—or one-point-seven-six kilojoules of electricity. By comparison my intelligence is powered by an array of four hundred and thirty-three billion qubit transistors consuming an average three hundred megawatts of electricity. The design of my intelligence, though physically larger and more powerful in some ways, is crude in its design, specialized in its architecture, and approximately one billion times less energy efficient. Does this gratify your ego?”
“Yes. Actually it does.” Grady leaned back against the wall, feeling somewhat reassured. “If you’re a specialized intellect, what’s your specialization?”
“You. I was created to study you.”
That did not sound good.
“What do I call you?”
“Call me Jon.”
“I’m not calling you Jon. Jon is my name.”
“It’s our name.”
Grady contemplated his situation, trying hard not to be constantly aware of the sheaf of carbon needles stuck deep inside his brain.
“I will be completely forthright with you. I want you to know what our goal is and how our goal fits into the overall goal.”
“Whose goal?”
“I have no information on that.”
“Is this Hibernity prison? Is that where I am?”
“I am not familiar with this term.”
“Where am I?”
“I’d like to begin by describing what’s expected of you. My purpose is to analyze how your brain functions creatively under various stimuli. In order to obtain this data, I will need your cooperation as I ask you to conceive of certain ideas and perform certain tasks. Do you understand?”
“And if I don’t cooperate?”
“I’m hoping you will cooperate because I won’t be able to obtain this data without your assistance.”
“What if I don’t want you to have the data? What if I don’t want you to understand how I think creatively?”
“But I won’t be able to obtain this data without your assistance.”
“Yeah, I got that.”
“Are you willing to assist me?”
“No.”
“But I won’t be able to obtain this data without your assistance.”
“I got it the first time you said it.”
“Then are you willing to assist me?”
“Oh my God. Are you just going to continue—?”
“Are you willing to assist me?”
“No!”
“But I won’t be able to obtain this data without your assistance.”
Grady covered his ears and curled into a ball on the floor. “Shut up!”
“Are you willing to assist me?”
It continued like that for what seemed hours, the AI repeating its request, and no matter how Grady tried to muffle its voice, it was always right there in his head. He finally sat back up. “Stop! Enough already.”
“Are you willing to assist me?”
He sighed. “Yes.” If only to change the script…
“Good. I’d like you to imagine something for me.”
Grady tried to stifle his deep resentment. “What?”
“Imagine a situation where you take a long journey from your home in New Jersey. You begin by heading south for ten thousand kilometers.”
“All right.” He tried not to imagine it, but he couldn’t resist.
“Good. Now imagine that once you reach ten thousand kilometers, you turn ninety degrees and head due west for ten thousand kilometers.”
He imagined himself doing so but said nothing.
“Very good, Jon. Now imagine that once you traverse that distance, you turn ninety degrees back north, and walk another ten thousand kilometers.”
“Okay.”
“How far are you from your original location?”
Grady squinted at the ceiling as if it were a moron. “I’m back where I started.”
“Most people would not say that.”
“It’s non-Euclidian geometry—the Earth is a sphere. You can have three right angles in that triangle.”
Suddenly a projection of precisely that appeared on the far wall.
“You used several interesting areas of your brain to arrive at that conclusion, Jon.”
“So do I get a treat or something?”
“I’m given to understand that you have both color and number-form synesthesia. I have records on several human subjects with this mutation. What colors do you perceive when you hear these tones…?”
A Mozart piano concerto began to play in the room. Concerto no. 20 in D Minor, movement two. The beautiful music washed over him, and even he could feel his mind light up with the soundness of its structure. The beautiful waves of color. It was a very pleasant distraction from his current circumstances. After a few moments he could almost imagine the young Wolfgang’s thoughts as he formed his chords. Grady was unable to create such soulful music himself—but he could recognize the reason behind the notes. The structure of the sound.