XVII
The panel discussion drew a large and noisy audience to Agnew Memorial Auditorium. Probably some came because it was sponsored by the Science Fiction Club, and they approved of science fiction; just as others were probably attracted by the panel of distinguished names. Many, perhaps, came because they had nothing better to do this evening. No few were intrigued by the advertised title, ‘Are Machines Getting Too Smart for Their Own Good?’ But the largest and noisiest part of the audience, without question, came to see DIMWIT. DIMWIT was an intelligent or pseudo-intelligent machine. DIMWIT was chairing the panel discussion.
Robbie and his brothers had good seats in the front row (he’d been saving the seats for them all day); this was even worth missing an evening at the Pitcher O’ Suds.
The four panellists took their places on the stage, two either side of a large screen. The screen showed a cartoon face, about eight feet in height, and constantly in motion. It smiled, raised brows, glanced to each side (as though looking at the panellists), it even raised the rim of a cartoon glass of water to its cartoon lips. When it finally spoke, the voice was loud and pleasant.
‘Good evening, good evening. Welcome to the annual University of Minnetonka Science Fiction Club panel discussion. The subject tonight is “Are Machines Getting Too Smart for Their Own Good?” My name is DIMWIT, I’m based on a KUR 1019 computer, guys and gals, a product of KUR Industries, where People Make Machines for People.
‘Let’s meet our distinguished panel. On the far left, Father Jack Warren. Father Jack is president of the New Luddite Society of America. He authored, well, a whole buncha scholarly books and articles, and the current bestseller,
‘Next, a real live philosopher, Professor Pete Waldo. Professor Pete authored a very heavyweight item entitled
After more applause, ‘On the right, Dr Byron Dollsly of the Parapsychology Department, to give us the psychic angle. Byron, take a bow.’
‘And finally General Jim Fleischman, banker, entrepreneur, and I understand he’s just joined the board of KUR Industries h’ray! — and he’s here to give us a hard-headed business viewpoint. Not to mention the kind of expertise that makes KUR a great company in a great America! Let’s hear it for General Jim!’
When the cheers and boos had died down, the machine said, ‘Let’s start the ball rolling by asking Professor Pete to tell us what artificial intelligence really is. Prof, give us the low-down.’
The Professor was a white-haired, scholar-shouldered man, clearly not at his best in this atmosphere of razzamatazz. He glanced at the screen-face, folded his hands, and said:
‘That’s a very difficult question, Mr, er, Chairman. The expression “artificial intelligence” presupposes a natural variety of intelligence, so we might begin by attempting a definition of intelligence
‘Thank you, Professor, you’re giving us plenty to chew on there. Now let’s have a word from our sponsor, heheh, General Jim Fleischman. General, could you tell us in your own words just what KUR is doing about artificial intelligence?’
Fleischman’s white, frothy sideburns gleamed as he leaned forward to deliver an earnest look at the audience. ‘Well, DIMWIT, as we see it, these abstract fancy notions are all right for the halls of ivory, but we at KUR have to be practical. You know, a wise old Roman named Horace said we ought to mix pleasure with practicality, and that’s good enough for us at KUR. All our machines have that one aim — to give people pleasure, in a very practical, down-to-earth way. You yourself, DIMWIT, are a good example. You’re doing a good job of chairing this panel—’
‘Gosh, thanks boss — teehee!’
‘But at the same time, you try to entertain folks. It’s the same with all our products, from juke boxes to video games, from service robots to direct broadcast TV — we aim to please. Maybe you can’t please all of the people all of the time, but you sure can try. Of course, we at KUR are
The cartoon face did a sad clown expression, complete with plenty of makeup and colour. ‘Aww.’
‘Good as you are, DIMWIT, we want to make you better and better. To us, artificial intelligence by itself is nothing. But harnessed to the cause of serving mankind, artificial intelligence can move mountains, heaven and earth!’
The general leaned further forward, his face gathering more light. ‘I see America’s destiny. I see the destiny of all men, linked to the intelligent use of artificial intelligence. Machines create new leisure for us, and now they are ready to help us use it wisely, creatively. I see man and his machine helpers marching forward with confidence, into a dazzling tomorrow!’
The applause was not as spectacular as DIMWIT called for. In the front row, one of the Digamma brothers nudged another. ‘Hey lookit Robbie. He’s shaking all over!’
‘Yeah, he really likes them flashing lights.’
Now it was Dr Dollsly’s turn. He had developed a nervous tic that kept drawing down one of his eyelids as though in a sly wink.
‘Consciousness, I notice nobody’s said anything about consciousness yet. Or free will, or anything we associate with true human intelligence. A machine is just like an animal: it can do things but it cannot decide to do things. There is no “I” inside the machine. No soul. Nothing but complex machinery.’
‘Another point of view,’ said the face, winking. ‘Now let’s hear from the Church, or is it the Luddites? Anyway, here’s Father Jack. Do you agree with Byron, Father?’
Father Warren spread his hands. ‘I’m not so sure I could be as dogmatic about this as Byron. There’s a paradox here. Man too is filled with complex machinery. Not made in a factory, but it’s machinery all the same. Buckminster Fuller defined man as a “self-balancing, 28-jointed adapter-base biped; an electrochemical reduction plant, integral with segregated stowages of special energy extract in storage batteries for subsequent actuation of thousands of hydraulic and pneumatic pumps with motors attached; 62,000 miles of capillaries…” and so on. Yes, man is a complex machine. And yet man has a soul. Could it be that the soul itself is nothing but complexity?’
Professor Waldo made a series of clicks, registering deep disapproval. ‘I hoped we wouldn’t be dragging in the poor old soul here, that worn-out ghost in the machine yet again?’
Dr Dollsly was becoming agitated. He kept grabbing handfuls of his thick grey hair as though trying to haul himself to his feet. ‘Buckminster Fuller, yes. Yes. The soul may be complexity, but complexity with a shape. A shape! As the divine Teilhard, what he was driving at when he, the complexification of the rudimentary, the the the primordial rudiment, the fundamental element of noogenesis, man is just the hominization of, of the–’
‘Thank you, Byron,’ said the cartoon face of DIMWIT. ‘I’m not sure we’re with you all the way there in these deep waters, but–’
‘But I haven’t said it yet, wait, man is just the biota hominized, I mean complexified, the man is just evolution becoming conscious of itself. Isn’t he?’
‘Thank you, Byron.’
‘But wait. Wait!’ Dollsly’s flaccid hands began beating the air as he fell back on a favourite argument: ‘If we think of evolution as a tangential force turning the bio, the gears of life, then the human mind is just a radial force expanding the whole gear system unbelievably…’
His voice trailed off, and a microphone caught General Fleischman’s loud whisper: ‘Any idea what the devil
