Тед Чан - Exhalation - Stories

Ana looks thoughtful. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“When an adult chooses to use an InstantRapport patch, we have no grounds to object. What would it take for us to respect Jax’s or Marco’s decisions the same way?”

“They’d have to be adults.”

“But we could file articles of incorporation tomorrow, if we wanted to,” he says. “What makes us so sure we shouldn’t? Suppose one day Jax says to you he understands what he’d be getting into by accepting Binary Desire’s offer, just like you with the job at Polytope. What would it take for you to accept his decision?”

She thinks for a moment. “I guess it would depend on whether or not I thought he was basing his decision on experience. Jax has never had a romantic relationship or held a job, and accepting Binary Desire’s offer would mean doing both, potentially forever. I’d want him to have had some experience with those matters before making a decision where the consequences are so permanent. Once he’s had that experience, I suppose I couldn’t really object.”

“Ah,” says Derek, nodding. “I wish I’d thought of that when I was talking to Marco.” It would mean modifying the digients into sexual beings, but without the intention of selling them; another expense for the users’ group, even after they got Neuroblast ported. “That’s going to take a long time, though.”

“Sure, but there’s no hurry to make the digients sexual. Better to wait until we can do it properly.”

Better to set an older age of majority than risk setting it too young. “And until then, it’s up to us to look after them.”

“Right! We have to put their needs first.” Ana looks grateful for the agreement, and he’s glad he can provide it. Then frustration returns to her face. “I just wish Kyle understood that.”

He searches for a diplomatic response. “I’m not sure anyone can, if they haven’t spent the time we have,” he says. It’s not intended as a criticism of Kyle; it’s what he sincerely believes.

A month has passed since Binary Desire’s presentation, and Ana is in the private Data Earth with a few of the Neuroblast digients, awaiting the arrival of visitors. Marco tells Lolly about the latest episode of his favorite game drama, while Jax practices a dance he’s choreographed.

“Look,” he says.

Ana watches him rapidly cycle through a sequence of poses. “Remember, when they get here, you have to talk about what you built.”

“I know, you said and said already. I stop dancing soon they here. Just having fun.”

“Sorry, Jax. I’m just nervous.”

“Watch me dancing. Feel better.”

She smiles. “Thanks, I’ll try that.” She takes a deep breath and tells herself to relax.

A portal opens and two avatars walk through. Jax promptly stops dancing, and Ana walks her avatar over to greet the visitors. The on-screen annotations identify them as Jeremy Brauer and Frank Pearson.

“I hope you didn’t have any trouble getting in,” says Ana.

“No,” says Pearson, “the logins you gave us worked fine.”

Brauer is looking around. “Good old Data Earth.” His avatar pulls on the branch of a shrub and then lets go, watching the way it sways. “I remember how exciting it was when Daesan first released it. It was state of the art.”

Brauer and Pearson work for Exponential Appliances, maker of household robots. The robots are examples of old-fashioned AI; their skills are programmed rather than learned, and while they offer some real convenience, they aren’t conscious in any meaningful sense. Exponential regularly releases new versions, advertising each one as being a step closer to the consumer’s dream of AI: a butler that is utterly loyal and attentive from the moment it’s switched on. To Ana this upgrade sequence seems like a walk to the horizon, providing the illusion of progress while never actually getting any closer to the goal. But consumers buy the robots, and they’ve given Exponential a healthy balance sheet, which is what Ana’s looking for.

Ana isn’t trying to get the Neuroblast digients jobs as butlers; it’s obvious that Jax and the others are too willful for that type of work. Brauer and Pearson don’t even work for the commercial division of the company; instead, they’re part of the research division, the reason that Exponential was founded. The household robots are Exponential’s way of funding its efforts to conjure up the technologist’s dream of AI: an entity of pure cognition, a genius unencumbered by emotions or a body of any kind, an intellect vast and cool yet sympathetic. They’re waiting for a software Athena to spring forth fully grown, and while it’d be impolite for Ana to say she thinks they’ll be waiting forever, she hopes to convince Brauer and Pearson that the Neuroblast digients offer a viable alternative.

“Well, thank you for coming out to meet me,” says Ana.

“We’ve been looking forward to it,” says Brauer. “A digient whose cumulative running time is longer than the life span of most operating systems? You don’t see that very often.”

“No, you don’t.” Ana realizes that they came more for nostalgia’s sake than to seriously entertain a business proposal. Well, so be it, as long as they’re here.

Ana introduces them to the digients, who then give little demonstrations of projects they’ve been working on. Jax shows a virtual contraption he’s built, a kind of music synthesizer that he plays by dancing. Marco gives an explanation of a puzzle game he’s designed, one that can be played cooperatively or competitively. Brauer is particularly interested in Lolly, who shows them a program she’s been writing; unlike Jax and Marco, who built their projects using toolkits, Lolly is writing actual code. Brauer’s disappointment is evident when it becomes clear that Lolly is just like any other novice programmer; it’s clear he was hoping her digient nature had given her a special aptitude for the subject.

After they’ve talked with the digients for a while, Ana and the visitors from Exponential log out of Data Earth and switch to videoconferencing.

“They’re terrific,” says Brauer. “I used to have one, but he never got much beyond baby talk.”

“You used to have a Neuroblast digient?”

“Sure, I bought one as soon as they came out. He was an instance of the Jax mascot, like yours. I named him Fitz, kept him going for a year.”

This man had a baby Jax once, she thinks. Somewhere in storage is a baby version of Jax that knows this man as his owner. Aloud, she says, “Did you get bored with him?”

“Not so much bored as aware of his limitations. I could see that the Neuroblast genome was the wrong approach. Sure Fitz was smart, but it would take forever before he could do any useful work. I’ve got to hand it to you for sticking with Jax for so long. What you’ve achieved is impressive.” He makes it sound like she’s built the world’s largest toothpick sculpture.

“Do you still think Neuroblast was the wrong approach? You’ve seen for yourself what Jax is capable of. Do you have anything comparable at Exponential?” It comes out more sharply than she intended.

Brauer’s reaction is mild. “We’re not looking for human-level AI; we’re looking for superhuman AI.”

“And you don’t think that human-level AI is a step in that direction?”

“Not if it’s the sort that your digients demonstrate,” says Brauer. “You can’t be sure that Jax will ever be employable, let alone become a genius at programming. For all you know, he’s reached his maximum.”

“I don’t think he has—”

“But you don’t know for certain.”

“I know that if the Neuroblast genome can produce a digient like him, it can produce one as smart as you’re looking for. The Alan Turing of Neuroblast digients is just waiting to be born.”