Robert Sawyer - Calculating God

“Eyes have evolved dozens of times in Earth’s history,” I said. “Insects and cephalopods and oysters and vertebrates and many others all developed eyes independently of each other. But I’ve never heard of an arrangement like that.”

“Nor had we until we met the Wreeds,” said Hollus. “But the structure of their eye also has an impact on the way they think. To stick with mathematics a moment longer, consider the basic model for all digital computers, whether made by humans or Forhilnors; it is the model, according to a documentary I saw on PBS, that you call the Turing machine.”

The Turing machine is simply an infinitely long strip of paper tape divided into squares, coupled with a print/erase head that can move left, right, or remain motionless and can either print a symbol in a square or erase the symbol already there. By programming movements and actions for the print/erase head, any computable problem can be solved. I nodded for Hollus to go on.

“The Wreed eye sees a complete, all-around panorama, and it requires no focusing — all objects are perceived with equal clarity at all times. You humans and we Forhilnors use the words concentrate and focus to describe both setting one’s attention and the act of thinking; you concentrate on an issue, you focus on a problem. Wreeds do neither; they perceive the world holistically, for they are physiologically incapable of focusing on one thing. Oh, they can prioritize in an intuitive sense: the predator up close is more important than the blade of grass far away. But the Turing machine is based on a kind of thought that is foreign to them: the print head is where all attention is concentrated; it is the focus of the operation. Wreeds never developed digital computers. They do, however, have analog computers and are adept at empirically modeling phenomenons, as well as understanding what factors go into producing them — but they cannot put forward a mathematical model. To put it another way, they can predict without explaining — their logic is intuitive, not deductive.”

“Amazing,” I said. “I’d have been inclined to think that mathematics would be the one thing we’d share with any other intelligent lifeform.”

“That was our assumption, too. And, of course, the Wreeds have been disadvantaged in some ways by their lack of math. Radio eluded them — which is why despite all the listening your SETI projects have done to Delta Pavonis, they were never detected. My race was monumentally surprised to find a technological civilization when our first starship arrived there.”

“Well, maybe Wreeds aren’t really intelligent,” I said.

“They are. They build the most beautiful cities out of the clay that covers most of their world. Urban planning is an art form for them; they see the whole metropolis as one cohesive entity. In fact, in many ways, they are more intelligent than we are. Well, perhaps that is an overstatement; let us say they are differently intelligent. The closest we come to having a common ground is in our use of aesthetics to evaluate scientific theories. You and I agree that the most beautiful theory is probably the correct one; we look for elegance in the way nature works. Wreeds share that, but understanding what constitutes beauty is much more innate in them; it lets them discern which of several theories is correct without testing them mathematically. Their sense of beauty also seems to have something to do with why they are so good at matters that perplex us.

“Such as?”

“Such as ethics and morality. There is no crime in Wreed society, and they seem able to solve the most vexing moral quandaries with ease.”

“For example? What insights do they have on moral issues?”

“Well,” said Hollus, “one of the simplest is that honor does not have to be defended.”

“A lot of humans would disagree with that.”

“None that are at peace with themselves, I suspect.”

I thought about that, then shrugged. Maybe he was right. “What else?”

“You tell me. Present an example of a moral quandary, and I will try to tell you how a Wreed would resolve it.”

I scratched my head. “Well, okay — okay, how about this? My brother Bill got married recently for the second time. Now, his new wife Marilyn is quite lovely, I think—”

“The Wreeds would say you should not attempt to mate with your brother’s spouse.”

I laughed. “Oh, I know that. But that’s not the question. I think Marilyn is lovely, but, well, she’s quite curvy — zaftig, even. And she doesn’t exercise. Now, Bill keeps bugging Marilyn to go to the gym. Meanwhile, Marilyn wants him to stop picking on her, saying he should accept her the way she is. And Bill says, ‘Well, you know, if I should accept your not exercising, then you should accept my wanting to change you — since wanting to change people is a fundamental part of my character.’ Get it? And, of course, Bill says his comments are selfless, motivated by genuine concern for Marilyn’s health.” I paused. The whole thing gives me a headache whenever I think about it; I always end up wanting to say, “Norman, coordinate!” I looked at Hollus. “So who is right?”

“Neither,” said Hollus, at once.

“Neither?” I repeated.

“Exactly. That is an easy one, from a Wreed point of view; because they do not do math, they never treat moral questions as a zero-sum game in which someone must win and someone else must lose. God, the Wreeds would say, wants us to love others as they are and also to struggle to help them fulfill their potential — both should happen simultaneously. Indeed, a core Wreed belief is that our individual purpose in life is to help others become great. Your brother should not vocalize his displeasure at his wife’s weight, but, until he attains that ideal of silence, his wife should ignore the comments; learning to ignore things is one of the great paths to inner peace, say the Wreeds. Meanwhile, though, if you are in a loving relationship, and your partner has grown dependent on you, you have an obligation to protect your own health by wearing safety belts in vehicles, by eating well, by exercising, and so on — that is Marilyn’s moral obligation to Bill.”

I frowned, digesting this. “Well, I guess that does make sense.” Not that I could think of any way to communicate it to either Bill or Marilyn. “Still, what about something controversial. You saw that newspaper article about the bombed abortion clinic.”

“The Wreeds would say that violence is not a solution.”

“I agree. But there are lots of nonviolent people on both sides of the abortion issue.”

“What are the two sides?” asked Hollus.

“They call themselves ‘pro-life’ and ‘pro-choice.’ The prolifers believe every conception has a right to fulfillment. The pro-choicers believe that women should have the right to control their reproductive processes. So who is correct?”

Hollus’s eyestalks weaved with unusual speed. “Again, it is neither.” He paused. “I hope I am not giving offense — it has never been my desire to be critical of your race. But it does astound me that you have both tattoo parlors and abortion clinics. The former — businesses devoted to permanently altering one’s appearance — imply that humans can predict what they will want decades in the future. The latter — facilities to terminate pregnancies — imply that humans often change their minds over timeframes as short as a few months.”

“Well, many pregnancies are unintentional. People have sex because it’s fun; they do it even when they don’t wish to procreate.”

“Do you not have methods of contraception? If you do not, I am sure Lablok could devise some for you.”