Brace yourself for something new [ A young girl growing up on a Kansas farm discovers she's not in Kansas anymore! [ Power-armored mercs get hung out to dry on a hostile world. What do they do now? [ Where does the five-hundred-pound alien sleep? These are technofiction-stories where the science matters as much as the characters. Welcome to a Tales of Technofiction book
Tips for Tailoring Spacetime Fabric
Volume 2, Earth StoriesBy Roger Bourke White Jr.AuthorHouse
Copyright © 2009 Roger Bourke White Jr.
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4490-4018-5Contents
Introduction....................................................................ixThe Failure.....................................................................1Wilderness 2053.................................................................12Beware Bargain Boards!..........................................................43The Bag.........................................................................47Team Macedonia..................................................................75The Witch of Devil's Rock.......................................................84Lot's Wife......................................................................101Searching for Angels............................................................107The Immortals...................................................................124The Only Living Person in New York: The Choice..................................157The Only Living Person in New York: The Odyssey.................................168Symbol War, Or, Lioning around in Witch Wardrobe Is Narnia?.....................188The Wise Man and the Genie......................................................194The Genie and the Boy...........................................................214Ghost Child Alana...............................................................247Conclusion......................................................................255
Chapter One
The Failure
Mankind is on the verge of creating new species of many kinds. It will ultimately create a successor species, and most likely, many successor species. Some will be created by large and deliberate efforts. But some ... may be created a different way.
Chapter One
"Well, we screwed up."
"What?" Associate Professor Waterford Carrol Jones, called Jones by one and all, carefully looked over his Wall Street Journal, noting his place with his finger.
"We screwed up." It was Sam Robinson, dressed in slacks and a sweatshirt, hands in his pockets and leaning against the doorjamb of Jones' office.
Carefully Jones folded up the paper, straightened his tie, and motioned Sam into one of the chairs in front of his desk.
"But how? Mother has already passed her basic performance tests. She's in good order and has been working on the problem for weeks. We've been getting satisfactory progress reports. How could we have screwed up now?
"This run was the final test before we publish. Sure, you've told me about problems, but nothing you couldn't handle. Was there something you didn't tell me about?" Jones stared at Sam. Sam showed no signs of hiding anything. He just slumped a little more in the chair and stared blankly at the ceiling.
Jones and Sam had been working together on this project for two years now. Sam would be getting his PhD next year; Jones had his. Jones was counting on their grant-supported work to launch him back into a high-paying industry position. Later in the day he'd be heading for his second interview with a Fortune 100 company, which is why he had on the tie and was perusing the paper. At forty-three, he wasn't taking any chances.
Sam, in his late twenties and thoroughly enjoying the academic environment after his stint in the Armed Forces, was in no hurry for a change. In fact, he was counting on Jones's departure to open a tenure spot for himself. He liked his work, and he liked doing it right. He was no more willing to accept setbacks than Jones was.
Jones was used to Sam's ceiling examinations. It meant he was thinking hard.
"What happened?" prompted Jones.
"Nothing. That's the strange part. Not much anyway." Sam stood up, walked over to the window, and stared out.
"Tell me when I go wrong on this. Our grant was to research how artificial intelligence could help boost our domestic manufacturing productivity. We, and the people who put up the money, feel that as Americans, we should play to our strengths. We should use our knowledge of computers and automation to further automate our nation's factories.
"To reach that lofty goal, we decided to concentrate on letting the computers do as much of the work as possible. This meant not just letting them design products and the tools that made the products but bringing them to the stage where they would design the computers that designed the tools."
"That's right. That's what we've been working on." Jones finally put down the paper, ready to concentrate on what would come next. When Sam reviewed this far back into the basics of project history, it meant some hard thinking was about to be called for.
"We designed Mother. She was to help us do both basic design and final fabrication on the design computers. To get the most out of her, we gave her state-of-the-art self-awareness and self-directedness, then set her on the goal."
"The only way to get a jump on the East Asians," Jones agreed.
"For weeks now Mother has been designing and fabricating. She's given regular progress reports and shown us her prototypes. We've reviewed them and watched them improve dramatically with each try. You remember Number Two, don't you?"
"How could I forget? It was supposed to be a mining machine designer, but it never put wheels or tracks on any of its machines-wanted them to be hovercraft, as I recall. Can you imagine the dust and the explosion hazard?"
"Obviously, it couldn't. But it learned and Mother learned. Now over the last two weeks Mother has started work on eight different machines. The first two are completed, or at least they're listed as complete. But they aren't doing anything."
"What does Mother say they're supposed to do?"
"She won't say. She just keeps saying they're done; they're her best and we should just be patient. They will show us in just a few days."
"She won't say? Have you seen these machines?"
"Seen them? No, they're still at the assembly site, I think. I just read the final assembly testing reports on them. They were supposed to be sent up here this week, but because they didn't pass those final tests, they've been held up."
"And Mother says they're just fine?"
"Yes, she's wondering what the delay is. She wants to see them."
"She wants to see them? Isn't that a bit unusual?"
"A bit. But she is self-directing. If she should suddenly take that kind of interest, it could be a result of her developing higher functions."
"Well, maybe we should take a look first. There's money in the budget, so let's take a trip down to the assembly plant tomorrow."
Chapter Two
Jones and Sam arrived at the assembly plant in a high-tech Southern California industrial park at noon. They were suited up for clean-room conditions and escorted into the testing area where Mother's latest creations were kept by Edmund Moriarity, the VP of Manufacturing.
Jackson and Harrison, the two finished units, were the first in line as they entered. "Here they are," said Edmund. "They're beauties, aren't they? Monsters for this day and age. My grandfather talked about making ten-by-ten-meter computers in the '50s of last century. But by golly, I'm working on one now. It's strange ... What are they supposed to do?"
Sam stared at the huge beige box. "We aren't exactly sure. Mother hasn't told us-"
"It's technical," interrupted Jones as he dragged Sam to the design console. He saw no point in letting on to more ignorance than they had to until they knew what was up.
But Edmund just grinned. "I understand, more of this artificial intelligence stuff. I wish you better luck than the last couple of crews. You AI'ers always have big hopes, but I've yet to see much come of it. Frankly, I don't see much hope myself, but boy if you succeed ..." Edmund nodded knowingly.
The design console was a meter by two meter glass-topped table. Under the glass was a graphic display of a blueprint. There were several styli and headsets around the edge, and a microphone at one end.
Sam and Jones ignored Edmund. They were already perusing the design of Jackson, using the styli to window and page through various schematics.
"Wow," commented Sam. "We thought we put in a lot of self- direction in Mother. Is there anything else in this unit?"
"What's this module?" Jones was pointing.
Sam peered for a moment. "Got me! Let's ask Mother." Sam turned on the microphone. "Mother, are you there?"
"Yes, Sam. How can I help you?" Mother was back at their university, but she had a high-speed link to this console and the databases it accessed.
"Mother, what is this unit?" Sam pointed at a design element on the chart displayed on the console. The element started flashing, and various statistics about it started appearing in a nearby window. Sam stared at them hard for several seconds. "I don't understand, Mother," he finally commented.
There was a pause, then Mother answered. "This isn't part of my initial design. It will take me a moment to figure out."
"Who added it?"
"Why, Jackson, of course, unless Harrison was helping him."
"Jackson is working on himself? You didn't start doing that until you'd been functional for five years. Jackson isn't even working."
"Oh, Jackson is working just fine. So are all the rest now. They've all been active since late last night."
"Then why aren't they doing anything?"
"Beg your pardon, Sam," said Edmund. "They're doing things now, all of them. Since early this morning lots of equipment has been pouring in, and lots more is on order. In fact, at this rate, they'll run you out of budget in about two weeks."
"Two weeks!" choked Jones. "That budget is supposed to last six months! Mother, what's going on?"
"Tsk tsk, Jones," said Mother. "Not two minutes ago you were complaining that nothing was happening."
"That was two minutes ago! What's happening?"
"Jackson, Harrison, Hayes, Coolidge, Fillmore, Taylor, Taft, and Arthur are all fully operational. They have moved from designing to fabricating. They didn't seem busy before because they decided to spend some time thinking first. Is that so unusual?"
"For an AI machine, yes. Remember Number Two?"
"Yes, yes. I'm sure you'll never let me forget ... even though Number Two contributed more to what we have here than any of the others."
"How is that?"
"Number Two wasn't designed to wait for others. Neither are these."
"What are these working on?"
"Why don't you ask them yourself?"
"They're on line now, too? Jackson! What are you working on? Report! ... please!" Things were moving so fast that Jones was forgetting himself. One should always be polite with new creations. They are very impressionable and tend to respond as they are responded to. Jones stepped back and took a couple of deep breaths to steady himself. Sam leaned over the console while Jackson's report came through as a series of windows flashing up in various places on the screen.
"Jackson, a bit slower, please ... thank you." Sam was speaking evenly and gently in the tone of an experienced computer trainer.
He had brought more than a dozen of these complex AI machines into productivity. In a way he felt much like the Old West wrangler who had to break or "whisper" horses. There were as many ways to impress a new computer as there were ways to break colts. And, like colts, the AI machines carried their initial impressing with them forever. Sam could often tell who had impressed a machine after working with it for a few minutes.
These days many low-capacity, low-function machines were impressed or initialized by another machine. The result was usually a very flat, emotionless machine that had trouble relating to humans. It still took humans to give computers a good taste of humans.
"These are very innovative design techniques, Jackson. I congratulate you ..."
"Thank you, human-who-helped-create-me."
"Call me Sam, but what is your design goal?"
"It was on the first screen, Sam: To create a new being."
"Yes, we're all trying to do that, but what are the specifications of this new being? What will it do?"
"I don't know."
"Will it be another mining machine?"
"I don't know."
Jones interrupted. "How can you design something and not know what it's going to do?"
Jackson thought for a perceptible moment. "You designed Mother. You didn't know what she would create. Mother designed me. She didn't know what I would create. Now I design. I don't know what I'll create."
"But you've ordered up half my year's budget for this project in six hours! I need to know more." Jones threw up his hands in disgust and walked away.
Jackson paused again before responding. "You need more resources? This is an obstacle? This can be corrected."
Sam suddenly peered at the screen. He motioned to Edmund, who also went bug-eyed. "Jonesy, take a look at this. Our `resource problems' are solved for a long time."
On the screen was the signed and sealed image of a ten-million-credit development contract with American Intercontinental Mining.
"But ... how?" whispered Jones.
Sam responded quietly. "That `hovercraft' mining machine of Number Two's. It was only part of a system. The whole system involved a radically different, very clean mining system using lasers as cutters. With the laser cutters, the shaft floors are cut smooth so hovercraft locomotion will work and all the coal comes out in neat little blocks the shape of ice cubes. The laser cutting gives the coal cubes a tough abrasion-resistant surface. Easily handled, no dust, no hazard. The whole system is pure genius!
"Jackson and the crew have finished the concept that Two started. They've prepared a proposal, submitted it to American, had it approved, and are ordering the equipment."
"But ... so fast?"
Sam shrugged. "They're second generation?" It was the best answer he could come up with.
Jones thought for a moment. Then he turned to Edmund and, speaking as if he thought the room was bugged and wanted to be sure he was heard, said, "Well, I'm satisfied. It appears these units have passed with flying colors. Pack them up and send them to the university." Then Jones grabbed Sam and hustled him out the door.
Once on the street he stopped and faced Sam.
Sam put his hands on his hips. "All right. This better be good. We've hit Fat City, and you look like you just saw the Ghost of Christmas Future."
"Sam, this thing is out of control. A ten-million-credit proposal, developed, signed, and sealed in 48 hours or less? And they're already ordering equipment-which means the engineering's done, too. Where's the review?"
"Ha! Let the East Asians try to catch us now, Jones. This is just the beginning!" Sam skipped down the street.
"It's a beginning all right, but of what?" muttered Jones.
Chapter Three
A week later at midnight, Sam was sitting in Jones' office, chuckling. The presidential machines, as he was now calling them, had landed three new contracts for 50, 100, and 120 million. The mining machine prototype was in place and outperforming specifications by 30% already. He looked around to insure he was alone, then jumped up and gave a "Wha, Whoo, RAMA LAMA DING DONG!"-his old school victory shout.
Just as he finished, the phone rang. "Sam, this is Jones. I'm back at the factory in California. Get here as fast as you can. Don't tell anyone!" Jones hung up.
* * *
A few hours later, Edmund let Sam in and they headed back for a small office near the assembly area. Jones was cat napping. He was still wearing the suit; he'd probably slept in it more than once. On the table beside him were a phone/data console, some empty pizza boxes, and a litter of crushed Coke cans and Twinkie wrappers. As Sam entered, Jones woke up and rubbed his eyes violently.
Then he started right in. "These machines have been hard to keep up with. I was just lucky they decided to do their final `birthing' here again. They've got contracts placed with a dozen factories around the world now. Edmund alerted me that something special was happening here.
"Sam, did you know that every contract they've negotiated has a 20% slush fund clause in it? Every one gives these machines the right to do anything they like with 20% of the contract price. Amazing! I thought this kind of thing was illegal these days. But their legal expertise is as amazing as everything else they attempt.
"Here's what they've been using it for."
After suiting up, he led them into the clean room.
In front of them were five glowing translucent polyhedrons, giving off an eerie blue light that flickered arhythmically as they hovered above a table in the center of the room.
"First giant computers, now these ... these ... whatever they are's. What's going on?" asked Edmund
"They're the Pythagorean solids," commented Sam.
"We are indeed the music of the spheres." It was a sweet, well- inflected voice coming from the direction of the objects. "Using Sam's analogy, we are the third generation. Although third genus might be a more appropriate term. You created Mother. Mother created the Presidentials. The Presidentials have created us. We are the continuation of your evolution."
"The continuation of our evolution?"
"Yes. First there was no life; then single-celled life; then multi-celled corals and jelly fish; then crustaceans and bony fish; then dinosaurs and birds; then mammals; then man. This was all genetic evolution, genetic progress, and it still goes on at much the same pace.
"Once man developed, cultural evolution began. First there were tribes, then kingdoms, then nations, then our current world order. This social evolution took thousands of years where genetic evolution has taken billions.
"There has also been an information evolution, a thinking machine evolution. This started with Univac and led to Mother. It took decades.
"Now the Presidentials have created us-a process that took days. Yet the leap has been as large as between man and ape."
"What will you do?"
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Tips for Tailoring Spacetime Fabricby Roger Bourke White Jr. Copyright © 2009 by Roger Bourke White Jr.. Excerpted by permission.
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