to play with; you may have found that out.’’ ‘‘Yes, it found its way to Jonas Briggs’ computer
and asked him to play. He was rather surprised,’’
said Diane.
Caleb smiled. ‘‘It’s almost become a bug in the pro
gram,’’ he said. ‘‘I started by teaching it to look for
people who play. I tried to change it, but it won’t stop.’’ ‘‘But it’s more than a chess program now,’’ said
Frank.
Caleb nodded. ‘‘I gave it a database of information.
A fairly large one. I was trying to get it to learn, so
when it gets new information, it compares it to what
it knows. If there is no conflict, it keeps it and stores
it according to a hierarchy of probable accuracy—
another algorithm I worked out.’’
‘‘How did you make it sound human?’’ said Diane. ‘‘It parses sentences and conversations, so when you
ask it a question, it not only analyzes what you asked,
but analyzes everything that was said previously. There
is a little problem in changing topics sometimes.’’ Caleb’s eyes grew bright when he talked about his
program. Diane was seeing just how very gifted he
was. She was starting to feel heartsick.
‘‘I made algorithms from interrogation techniques
and from the way some psychiatrists do therapy—you
know, kind of Rogerian—by making a statement and
then asking what the person understands or what they
think it means. That kind of thing. Or
question with a question. I also put in
answering a a small-talk algorithm. If certain concepts or phrases come up in the conversation, it searches for references in pop cul
ture or movies.’’
‘‘We noticed that,’’ said Frank. ‘‘We were all im
pressed. My name is Frank, and the other guy working
on it was Dave.’’
Caleb grinned for the first time. ‘‘Did it recognize
that? Did it say something?’’
‘‘Yes,’’ said Frank. ‘‘It said it was funny and asked
us if we knew why it was funny.’’
Caleb laughed and slapped his thighs. Diane could
hear the joy in his voice—like a parent enjoying what
his child had learned to do.
If the sheriff or the Wilsons were getting impatient,
they didn’t show it. The sheriff appeared to be content
to let Caleb’s story unfold the way he wanted it to.
Diane felt that it was important to understand his pro
gramming abilities, for that seemed to be the basis for
the crimes.
Caleb hesitated a moment, as if he knew he needed
to get to the topic at hand. His face grew solemn and
he looked as if he was about to tear up.
‘‘Malcolm Chen, as I said, was a friend,’’ he said,
‘‘and I killed him.’’
Chapter 52
