Ai∀ 1.0
1.1 Terminal Values
Except from Director Zukas' post-mortem report to the UN investigative committee on the Pandora Incident:
'In retrospect, the criticisms of an ignorant sector of the public were correct, if for the wrong reasons: our sin was hubris.
We aspired to create a God from whole cloth, and under the weight political pressure and the pricking of our collective ego gave ourselves over to the belief that we could be the generation to reshape history.
However, the basic aim of our ambition was not at fault - only our conceit that we should be the ones to fulfil it.
The central concept at the core of strong AI development is that one does not create a microchip with a stone hammer. Complex tools are developed iteratively, through a process of incremental refinement. Recursive self improvement is after all the basic premise of the singularity.
In our rush to cross that threshold, a key gap in the neuro-evolutionary chain was overlooked. To build a greater than human intelligence that is nevertheless aligned to human interests we should first optimize the human mind for the problem.
Humanity will get only one chance, one opportunity to get this right. To succeed, it must be an all or nothing effort, the very best we have to offer…'
When Sara had first gotten her acceptance letter to join the Academy, her father had been ecstatic. He'd taken the whole family out to a celebratory dinner at Uncle Kaus' Tandoori restaurant. All her cousins were in attendance making it a boisterous family affair, and while her brother gave her a few sulking looks between bites, she had basked in the outpouring of warmth and support. The years of study and months of rigorous testing after being selected as a potential candidate had all culminated in this joyous moment.
Now, sitting in the terminal, she was beginning to feel the weight of the change and isolation before her. At fourteen years old, she'd never been away from home for longer than a few weeks. The Academy was a boarding school, and subject to the strictest protocol for communication with the outside. Its location was secret even to her and her family, the students deemed "national security assets."
Sara looked down at the bar coded band on her wrist and frowned. She understood the dangers, of course. It had been hammered into her during the tests, but even before that she'd read her Asimov and Clarke, she knew all about paperclip optimizers and Skynet and grey goo. And of course, everyone knew about the Hive. She couldn't remember a time before the crash-a time with the 'net, and personal devices that could connect you to it anywhere in the world, a near ubiquitous stream of limitless data- but her parents could, and that sense of loss was still fresh in the public consciousness.
But even knowing what was at stake, Sara couldn't help but miss her family. Her feeling of loneliness was underscored by the desolate atmosphere of the airport terminal itself. Built in an age of plenty, the high ceilings and sprawling halls seemed sparse- oversized relics in this age where air travel was restricted to government employees and the super rich. Only a handful of other civilian passengers were scattered through the massive reception area. One group of fashionable teenage girls bubbled giddily near the baggage check, presumably off to some resort on their parents' dime. Most of the other travelers were bored looking businessmen in sharp suits, or bureaucrats in shabby ones. They smoked or read newspapers, pausing to stare pointlessly now and then at the huge banks of screens showing just a handful of upcoming flights.
Sara glanced over to where her "travel guide" Aimee (aka: government handler, Sara thought wryly) was finalizing her papers with a uniformed airline employee. They were supposed to meet the other U.S. candidates for this year before boarding the plane, but she guessed they were running late. There had been some trouble on the way over, Sara knew, something about protesters blocking traffic...
"Saraswatyai Pai?"
Sara jumped at the sudden voice behind her, and turned. The man was middle aged, dumpy, in an ill-fitting dark grey suit and red tie.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"Good afternoon. You can call me Smith. I'm a representative of the NSA."
Agent Smith, she thought. Cute. You don't look like you know Kung Fu. And where are the big sunglasses? He looked like a typical aging paper pusher, but something about him still screamed "danger!" in Sara's mind. The last thing she needed was to get wrapped up in an NSA Inquisition.
"What do you want?" she asked, trying to seem both shy and dismissive. Please go away.
"I just wanted to extend our congratulations to you on your admission to the Academy. Your acceptance is a great honor. I am sure you will do your country proud."
Sara looked nervously toward her handler. Aimee was still talking with the travel agent, her back to them. "I don't think I'm supposed to be talking to anyone here…"
"Do you love your country, Sara?"
The unexpected question threw her off guard. "Y..yes, of course."
"I cannot emphasize enough how important this position is. You will be representing your country as a symbol of pride – and protecting our national interests. The security of the homeland is of the utmost importance in these volatile times."
Sara suddenly found herself wishing Aimee would hurry up. Play dumb, stall him. "I'm just a student… I can't really do anything about stuff like that."
"Now, don't undersell yourself. You were selected as one of only three candidates to represent the United States at the most prestigious technical institution in the world. You will have opportunities few others can imagine. What you learn there could be of great value to the future of the world. You are doubtless an intelligent and observant young woman. I'm merely asking you to keep careful track of what you see and hear: new technologies, comments from your peers about their homelands, anything that could prove to be useful intelligence."
Shit, Sarah thought. This was not something she wanted to get caught up in. Well, dumb isn't working… She stood up straighter, and gave the man a look she hoped was stern. "The Academy is supposed to be a neutral institution, protected by the Seoul Convention and international treaty. Espionage would not only get me expelled- it would be a geopolitical outrage."
"Ah, are you suggesting there are limits to your patriotism, miss Pai?" This last was said with a chilling bit, the threat only barely concealed.
Sara suppressed the urge to flinch away, and forced herself to meet his eyes.
"Not at all. In fact, I'm doing what's best for my country. Such an act would be disastrous for the whole nation if discovered - we could be locked out of future involvement with the Academy and its findings, and lose what little good-will we still have on the world stage. In fact, Mr. Smith, I'm beginning to wonder if you have any authority at all to be making this proposition to me. You were never introduced to me as part of my briefing, yet here you are skulking in the hallways, sneaking up on little girls."
The man's glare gave way to an oily smile. "Good. I can see you have grit. It will serve you well, where you are going. But, if patriotism alone cannot move you, then I urge you to think of more...personal factors. I'm given to understand, for instance, that you have a brother who is about to graduate." Sara's eyes widened involuntarily.
"What an important time in a young man's life," the man went on, with a mirthless smile. "He could, for instance, end up at a prestigious university. I recall he scored almost as well as you on his entrance exams. On the other hand, he might be drafted into the Corps, end up serving a tour in Sudan... One never knows. Fate is so fickle that way."
Sara's fists clenched at her sides, and she felt a burning in the back of her throat, but she refused to show weakness in front of this monster.
The man continued to smile. "Surely, as well-informed a young lady as you can see the difference these paths might make to his future. To your family."
It was all Sara could do to keep from shaking. Stupid. STUPID. Why had she thought she could stand up to someone like this? An NSA agent? Of course he'd have leverage.
"But…" Sara thought desperately, looking for some excuse. "Won't all my mail be monitored? There's no access to the outside world, I won't be able to send anything without them noticing…"
The man's smile reminded Sara of those eels that burrow in the mud at the bottom of lakes, shooting out to snatch at passing fish. "Leave that to us. There will be opportunities for you to speak to our agents securely." He withdrew a small token from a coat pocket, and offered it to her. "This contains a hidden drive with instructions that will allow you identify them." When Sara didn't reach to take it, he set it on the armrest of the chair. "I trust you will be cooperative when the time comes."
He followed Sara's involuntary glance toward the kiosk where her handler was picking up a stack of papers and- finally!- turning toward them.
"Good day, miss Pai. We will be in touch." With that, he disappeared around the corner, just as Aimee started toward them.
Sara slumped into the uncomfortable bench seat, trying to calm her breathing. As if the pressure of being selected for the Academy wasn't enough - now I'm supposed to spy on an international organization filled with other geniuses? Geniuses who, she thought glumly, would no doubt be expecting *exactly that*, and on guard against it.
She glared at the thumb drive on the arm of the chair, then reluctantly picked it up. Well, maybe I can feed them enough useless tidbits to keep them occupied without getting expelled…
Her thoughts were interrupted as her "guide" approached, followed by a cluster of two adults and two other children her age. Sara quickly slipped the drive into her pocket and, with a steadying breath, stood up to greet the new arrivals.