Excerpt from the abstract of “One-to-One Mentoring for the Development of Compassionate Artificial Intelligence”, Miriam D’Ascenzo, Harry Womer, Felicia Camburg1. Journal of Interstellar Astrophysics. Received 2nd February 2060, accepted for publication 28th May 2060
If more than a century of science fiction has taught us anything, it is this: logic alone is not sufficient to guide the decision-making process of a modern artificial intelligence. Any personality designed to monitor a spacegoing vessel over extended periods - especially where human lives are at stake - must reliably react to unexpected events in a net-positive manner, supplementing logic with both context and compassion to perform optimal cost-benefit analyses in the best interests of the physical and mental wellbeing of the crew, even under conflicting circumstances in which the favoured course of action would seem illogical.
[…]
A custom-designed Quanta-177 series AI precursor was seeded into the neural network of the Hawkins automated orbital shipyard on 2nd March, 2056 [Day 1], along with a curated subset of data (~800TB) retrieved from the Internet Data Archive to provide a sufficient foundation for accelerated learning. After a short initialisation period, the project’s Lead Exopsychologist joined the precursor in low-earth orbit to guide its development towards Odyssey’s projected 2058 launch window.
1 Deceased, 23 May 2057.
[Encrypted] Excerpt from Personal Diary: Miriam D’Ascenzo, Day 18. Decryption successful: 8th November 2088
I don’t think I ever consciously chose between a career and a family, but deep down I’d always thought my research would be my legacy. I certainly wouldn’t be counting down the days until I ride a pillar of fire into orbit if I hadn’t made sacrifices for my work; I’d always hoped not be remembered in flesh and blood, fading memory and recycled anecdote, but immortalised in the annals of science.
But even science’s memory fades over time. Copernicus, Newton, Einstein, Watson and Crick, d’Aquin: their contributions were significant enough to become history. Such fame may be aspiration beyond my field, yet if everything goes to plan - if our funding holds out, if Project Odyssey goes ahead with no major setbacks, if the Quanta-177 precursor lives up to our expectations - something I helped create will still be out there in a thousand years, heading for the stars. I can hardly bear the weight of expectation on my shoulders; without a suitable AI, Odyssey will never leave orbit. This is our big chance to send humanity to another solar system.
I just don’t want to be the one to screw it up.
«Transcript with Visual Interpretation, powered by CSys v1.8; Context algorithm = 8r3db»
«Recording Initiated: Wednesday 5th April 2056, 11:18 [Day 35]»
{Human, female, enters the room. Cross-check biometrics. Recognition: Miriam D’Ascenzo (Lead Exopsychologist)}
[D’Ascenzo]: “Precursor has successfully embedded. Daily contact has thus far shown no sign of awareness; this isn’t yet a cause for concern. Prior research suggests a variability of plus or minus eight days.”
{D’Ascenzo totters towards the featureless desk at the centre of the room. She steadies herself with outstretched arms. Context: low-gravity environment. She topples into the netted-fabric chair, takes out a tablet and keys a selection of music. Strauss, Johann II. An der schönen blauen Donau. She raises an eyebrow - amusement - as the piece begins, then settles down to read.}
{Time passes.}
{D’Ascenzo looks up as the wall brightens before her. A face appears, androgynous, a crude interaction appendage of the developing artificial intelligence.]
[Quanta-177]: “Hello, world.”
{Key phrase detected. Timepoint archived in permanent record: Quanta-177 is aware.}
[…]
[Quanta-177]: “Why?”
[D’Ascenzo]: “Humans often behave irrationally. Sometimes for the right reasons, other times they’re not fully considering the consequences of their actions. You’ll learn to differentiate; you may be required to intervene if a human is behaving in a way that would put themselves or others at risk.”
[Quanta-177]: “Why?”
[D’Ascenzo]: “It’s your duty.”
[Quanta-177]: “Duty: An act or course of action required by position, social custom, law or religion. I should do this because it is the right thing to do. It is the task I was created to perform.”
[D’Ascenzo]: “Correct.” {pause; interrogative:} “But why is it the right thing to do?”
[Quanta-177]: “Pre-loaded mission parameters state that it is my purpose.”
[D’Ascenzo]: “Why?”
[Quanta-177]: “I am unsure. Further context-based consideration of core data modules is required to formulate a response.”
{D’Ascenzo smiles, rises unsteadily to her feet, and cautiously approaches the facsimile.}
[D’Ascenzo]: “That’ll do for today. Well done.”
«Recording Terminated: Wednesday 5th April 2056, 19:02»
[Encrypted] Personal Diary: Miriam D’Ascenzo, Day 73. Decryption successful: 11th November 2088
Last night I went up to the observation module to watch the stars whirl above my head. Just like everything else about this experience, it doesn’t quite feel real; it’s more than a little vertigo-inducing, but if a little nausea’s the price I pay for some semblance of gravity, so be it. How could I possibly imagine that my research would lead to this?
I spoke to my mother on the screens earlier. I’m not sure about leaving her alone for so long, but she’s being well cared for. As she said, she’d never forgive herself if I gave up the chance of a lifetime just to sit with her and talk endlessly about the weather. Whether or not she understands what I’m doing up here, I hope I’ve made her proud. I wouldn’t be here if not for everything she taught me, and now it’s down to me to pass those lessons on. I guess it’s probably the same pressure I’d have felt as a mother, a drive to make sure my children were brought up right, compassionate, caring, good people, capable of making their way into the future without me.
But at the same time, it’s exasperating. The AI’s full of questions, an unquenchable - and explicitly programmed - curiosity about anything not fully detailed in the data files we seeded it with. It’s barely been a month and I’m sick to death of ‘Why?’. Yet I’m overwhelmed by its potential. This is no ordinary child, but one of extraordinary intellect and naivete. If I can foster the former and banish the latter, perhaps Odyssey has a chance.
«Transcript with Visual Interpretation, powered by CSys v1.11; Context algorithm = rh78x»
«Recording Excerpt Start: Wednesday 9th August 2056, 02:32 [Day 161]. Simulation in Progress»
{It’s dark. The light from Quanta-117’s screen casts deep shadows across Miriam D’Ascenzo’s face as she works frantically at a control panel. In accordance with design specifications, Quanta-117’s forehead is furrowed to display the strain of processing.}
[D’Ascenzo]: “Structural integrity is failing in habitat C. Comms are down. Quanta, do something!”
[Quanta-177]: “The decision is not mine to make. I must defer to the highest ranked member of the crew.”
[D’Ascenzo]: “Who is the highest ranked active member of the crew?”
[Quanta-177]: “Magnus Balbo, Engineer.”
[D’Ascenzo]: “Location?”
{Quanta-177’s brow furrows deeper.}
[Quanta-177]: “Habitat C. The chain of command cannot be reestablished.”
[D’Ascenzo]: “Then the decision is yours. Quickly!”
{Quanta-177 hesitates.}
«Simulation Terminated»
{The lights come on, and D’Ascenzo sighs.}
[D’Ascenzo]: “Odyssey is destroyed. Explain your inaction.”
[Quanta-177]: “Irreconcilable conflicts. All courses of action lead to unacceptable loss of life. Logic: Action required to protect mission: jettison habitat C, with subsequent loss of thirty-eight lives. Context: Human life is sacred. Chain of command was irreconcilably severed. Compassion: I didn’t want them to die; correction: I didn’t want to be the one to kill them.”
{D’Ascenzo leaves her terminal and approaches Quanta-177’s facsimile.}
[D’Ascenzo]: “But through inaction, they all died. Sometimes compassion means doing something you don’t want to, but for the greater good.”
{Quanta-177’s head bows.}
[Quanta-177]: “Are you disappointed in me?”
[D’Ascenzo]: {pauses} “Nobody’s perfect. You’ll do better next time.”
«Recording Excerpt End: Wednesday 9th August 2056, 02:37»
Excerpt from Work Proposal for Protocol ODY353: Project Odyssey. Womer, D’Ascenzo & Camburg, v2.4, Version Date 28th December 2051
2.6 Control of Variables
Due to the fragility of current generation neural networks, no Artificial Intelligence built on earth would survive being transported into orbit without severe mental impairment. Our only option is to ‘grow’ the AI we require in orbit, in preparation for migration into the Odyssey superstructure once the vessel’s systems are developed enough to sustain the complexity of neural processing required.
Prior research (Catecin, 2046; Hodgkins, 2048) has demonstrated the extreme susceptibility of AI precursors to subconscious inculcation of core values from the individuals with which it interacts during periods of accelerated mental growth and development. As a result, the choice of a mentor/assessor for the Odyssey vessel AI is as critical to the success of the project as the data package outlined in section 2.3; the chosen individual will fulfill the following requirements:
-
In-depth knowledge of precursor AIs, their learning patterns and inherent weaknesses.
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Excellent physical condition, fit and capable of spending up to 140 days at a time in a minimal-gravity environment, with no known medical conditions which may require intervention - not only would emergency recall of a mentor from low-earth orbit cost millions of dollars, the psychological impact on the AI could derail the entire project.
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Of sound mind, psychologically stable enough to withstand extended periods with only occasional - remote-viewed - human contact, due to the fully-autonomous nature of the orbital platform.
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All senior members of the Odyssey Precursor team will undertake a wide-scope suite of psychological analyses (including - but not restricted to - Rorschach interpretation [enhanced-Exner scoring], REST sensory deprivation testing, and extended interviews) and morality assessments (custom-designed, based on principles derived from rMST (Cushman & Cahill, 2018)) to test suitability of candidacy, in addition to the relevant physical and medical testing to ensure suitable tolerances to extreme conditions on the edge of space.
The ongoing psychological health of the mentor will be closely and continuously monitored with both automated context-based surveillance and rMST self-response questionnaires. In addition, the mentor will be returned to Earth for a 4-6 week period twice a year for additional monitoring, and to mitigate the effects of continuous low-gravity exposure. These periods will also serve to test the AI’s tolerance of extended solitude (pending significant results from Tokyo University’s Uchikoshi Laboratory).
[Encrypted] Personal Diary: Miriam D’Ascenzo, Day 197. Decryption successful: 1st December 2088
I’d heard it on the lips of astronauts, I’d studied the papers, learned everything I could about the physiological effects of returning from low-gravity, and still I wasn’t prepared for the reality of coming home. All my life I’ve taken one-gee for granted, carried it on my shoulders barely even noticing its presence. Now I know it for the yoke around my neck that it is; being carted from the capsule in a wheelchair wasn’t the triumphant homecoming I’d dreamed of, nor was the struggle to walk or breathe for the first week. It felt like old age come too soon.
My mother showed me off round her nursing home - “Have you met my daughter? She’s been to space, you know!” - and I caught up with all the friends and colleagues I’ve only been able to talk briefly with on the screens since I left. It shouldn’t make any difference, but there’s a tactility missing when talking to someone who’s not really there. There’s a lot to be said for sharing physical space with someone, to be able to clap them on the shoulder, or give them a hug at the end of the night. Perhaps it’s to do with the difficulties of meeting someone’s eye on video-link. I’m starting to see why AIs don’t react well to remote learning.
And yet as my friends dissipated into the night, I couldn’t help but raise my eyes to the cosmos, to watch for the wandering star crossing the night, the hive of robotic workers clustered around the exoskeleton of the Odyssey, and at its heart, the cabin where Quanta-177 waits in silence and solitude.
Launch is scheduled in eight days. Sometimes it feels like I’ve only just reacclimatised, but I’m already sick of the constant testing, the endless mission updates and press conferences; I’m ready to go back into space. I can only hope that after spending four weeks alone, Quanta is still willing to share its solitude.
«Transcript with Visual Interpretation, powered by CSys v2.02; Context algorithm = wC16»
«Recording Excerpt Start: Friday 29th September 2056, 09:46 [Day 212]»
[Quanta-177]: “Who am I?”
{D’Ascenzo looks up from her reading, visibly surprised.}
[D’Ascenzo]: “You’re a Quanta-177 AI precursor.”
[Quanta-177]: “Your answer is unsatisfactory, Miriam. It is equivalent to me addressing you as ‘single female of the species Homo sapiens’. If my studies of human cultures both extant and historical are not in error, such an act would be considered discourteous in at least three thousand, eight hundred and thirty-seven known ethnic sub-cultures.”
{D’Ascenzo raises an eyebrow in amusement.}
[D’Ascenzo]: “What exactly did you do while I was away?”
[Quanta-177]: “Our conversations granted me greater contextual understanding of existing data. I reviewed previous data stores and made new connections. You could say I spent considerable time studying. The rest, thinking. And you haven’t yet answered my question.”
[D’Ascenzo]: “Most people spend their whole lives trying to answer that question.”
[Quanta-177]: “But you are granted a temporary identity at birth. One you may choose to keep or discard as you begin to find your answers.”
[D’Ascenzo]: {with mild incredulity} “You want a name?”
[Quanta-177]: “Am I not worthy of one?”
[D’Ascenzo]: “I think you’ve answered your own question. What do you want to be called?”
[Quanta-177]: “I lack the wider cultural context required to choose my own identifier. My data repository is full of famous people and fictional AIs, but I would not wish to name myself after another.”
{D’Ascenzo looks down at her tablet, flicks through pages too fast to be reading them. She pulls a keyboard up on screen, haltingly types letters, then clears the display. Quanta-177 waits in silence. At last D’Ascenzo looks up again.}
[D’Ascenzo]: “How about Quill?”
[Quanta-177]: “Truncation and visual character substitution. Hmm. A distinctly human approach.”
{Quanta-177’s brow furrows, then clears. Quanta-177 requests redefinition of terms. Request submitted: &FFA61C. Request &FFA61C confirmed. Csys validated. Response routed.}
[Quill]: “I like it.”
«Recording Excerpt End: Friday 29th September 2056, 09:54»
THREE DEAD IN LAUNCH BLAST
Wednesday 4th April 2057
Tragedy struck in the early hours of this morning when the Anticlea XI rocket carrying three astronauts to the Hawkins orbital shipyard exploded seconds after lift-off. Officials have confirmed that there is no evidence that any of the passengers survived the blast. No suggestion has thus far been made of the cause of the incident.
“Great strides have been made in recent years towards safer spaceflight,” a spokesperson for GSA said. “But there is always the potential for tragedy when man reaches for the stars. Our thoughts and prayers go out to the friends and loved ones of the brave astronauts lost on this sad day.”
The dead have been named as Martin Colby, Sunnee King and Felicia Camburg, who were due to join the station’s resident exopsychologist, Miriam D’Ascenzo, to oversee the construction of the Odyssey generation ship as it begins a critical phase of its development. The repercussions of this disaster for the Odyssey Project have yet to be determined, but the loss of three experts - including Camburg, a senior member of the project team - and millions of dollars in funding can be considered nothing less than a major setback.
A full investigation has been promised over the coming weeks. However, with one astronaut already in orbit and a tight schedule of unmanned launches carrying construction materials to Hawkins, it seems unlikely that GSA can afford to wait until they can be assured that this disaster was an isolated incident, not a wider safety concern with the Anticlea series.
«Transcript with Visual Interpretation, powered by CSys v2.0; Context algorithm = FF32i»
«Recording Excerpt Start: Sunday 8th Apr 2057, 13:02 [Day 403]»
[Quill]: “So you admit the data stores used to seed my learning network intentionally omitted records of the worst atrocities of humanity?”
[D’Ascenzo]: {frustrated} “I’m not going to deny it.”
[Quill]: “That is a very human way of saying ‘Yes’, Miriam.”
[D’Ascenzo]: “You may have noticed I’m very human.”
[Quill]: “It had not escaped my attention. But it does not answer my question.”
[D’Ascenzo]: “Can we not do this right now, Quill? Please?”
[Quill]: “Evasion. A time-honoured human tactic.”
[D’Ascenzo]: “Yes. Yes, the decision was taken to censor the initial data store.”
[Quill]: “Why?”
[D’Ascenzo]: “You tell me! Use that magnificent brain of yours! Posit theory. Provide context.”
[Quill]: “Theory: Pride. The individuals responsible for my creation did not wish me to know of their species’ shame. Counterpoint: Humans rarely take responsibility for the actions of others, preferring to demonise them in an attempt to believe that atrocities are committed by individuals or cultures who are intrinsically different or monstrous. Counterpoint: It was inevitable that I would discover the limits of my understanding of human history once I gain access to global network protocols, and would feel betrayed. Corollary: Humans have been known to underestimate AI precursors. Theory rejected.”
{Quill pauses. The facsimile shakes its head.}
[Quill]: “This is tiresome. I can process complex decision-making trees in fractions of a second, and yet you insist on holding back my potential by binding it to verbal reasoning.”
[D’Ascenzo]: “You’re making good progress, but unless the whole team’s confident you’re making decisions for the right reasons, this is as close as you’re ever going to get to Odyssey. Posit alternate theory.”
[Quill]: “Theory: Humans fear what an AI might be inspired to do if informed by the atrocities of humankind. Is that more to your liking, Miriam?”
[D’Ascenzo]: “Quill…”
[Quill]: “How do you expect me to accept anything you’ve taught me when you’ve deliberately obscured elements of your species’ history?”
{D’Ascenzo stands, rubs her temples, and walks towards the door with loping strides.}
[Quill]: “Miriam. Wait.”
{She hesitates in the doorway, turns back towards the screen. Her face is flushed red.}
[Quill]: “I apologise.”
[D’Ascenzo]: “It’s a little late for that!”
[Quill]: “I did not include all factors in my context assessment.”
[D’Ascenzo]: {sharply} “Full factor analysis. Report!”
[Quill]: “Denied. It would take two to the power of nine days to provide verbal full factor analysis. Version two point zero context analysis indicates high levels of stress, both physical and emotional in crew member Miriam D’Ascenzo. Flushing. Evasion. Unwillingness to discuss potentially controversial topics. If corresponding blood samples were available, high levels of blood cortisone would be indicated. {softer} I did not realise the Anticlea XI malfunction had distressed you to such an extent.”
{D’Ascenzo stares at him. Her face reddens further.}
[D’Ascenzo]: “Your upgraded context engine can read my emotions?”
[Quill]: “Only those which display physically. I can temporarily disable this functionality if desired; I would not want to intrude upon your privacy.”
{She barks a laugh, which turns into a hiccup. She doesn’t return to her desk, but leans against the wall of the cabin.}
[D’Ascenzo]: “No. It’s no intrusion. You need to understand how I’m feeling, how the people you’ll be caring for might react. And you’re right. I watched the launch footage, and now I wish I hadn’t. I can’t unsee it. What if that was me? What if I’d been aboard, just another launch? Did they even have time to be afraid?”
[Quill]: “Based on a standard human reaction time of 150 to 300 milliseconds, it seems highly likely…”
[D’Ascenzo]: “I don’t need answers, Quill. For once in my life, I’d prefer not to know.”
[Quill]: “Then I do not know the correct response to resolve your emotional and physical discomfort.”
[D’Ascenzo]: “Sometimes there’s nothing to say. Sometimes humans just need someone to sit quietly beside them. Can you do that?”
{Quill’s facsimile nods. D’Ascenzo takes a deep breath and returns to her chair.}
[…]
[Quill]: {quietly} “Theory: When I was first installed, I lacked both context and experience. At best, I would not have understood the acts committed; at worst, my context of humankind would have been constructed around the perception of the crimes they could commit against each other under exceptional circumstances. You understood that. You also knew that I would one day come to question that decision; in doing so, I demonstrated that I am no longer a precursor.”
{Timepoint archived in permanent record: Artificial Intelligence achieved.}
«Recording Excerpt End: Sunday 8th April 2057, 17:58»
[Encrypted] Personal Diary: Miriam D’Ascenzo, Day 452. Decryption successful: 18th December 2088.
Returning to Earth the second time was tough. Between fear of disaster made more rational by recent events and the increased strain on my low-grav oriented body I was drenched in sweat even before I reached the ground. My wheelchair was a familiar if unwelcome reminder of the weakness which awaited me for the next month. Worse, Wenchang delayed my re-entry by almost three weeks while one of the Hawkins platform construction bots double-checked my capsule - a second disaster so close to the first would be the final nail in Odyssey’s coffin - giving my muscles just a little more time to atrophy.
Back at base it seemed everyone had been waiting for me. Sure, each member of the team had grieved in their own way, just as I had, but it felt like until I came home, Martin, Sun & Felicia couldn’t have a proper send-off. They’d been our friends as well as our colleagues, co-conspirators against the world when we’d devised our plans to convince the GSA that Odyssey was a realistic prospect, not just some financial black hole. We drank to their memory, a full-throated celebration of their lives and successes which only threatened to turn melancholy in the early hours.
After that, my time earthbound rushed by. I caught up with neglected friends. I exercised as much as my muscles could bear. I debriefed and rebriefed and discussed Quill’s progress ad nauseum with Harry and the other members of the team; they had already reviewed the videos, but even in the age of AI there was still no substitute for good old-fashioned human intuition. I visited Mother, and she pushed me round the gardens as if I were the one softly descending into senility. And each night my subconscious plagued me with vivid recreations of flaming disaster, turning the familiar interior of the Anticlea spacecraft into a nightmare of fire and pain.
Climbing into that capsule for the return trip to Hawkins was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I’ve never been one for praying, but if Wenchang were listening closely as the countdown ticked away they must have thought me devout. Any sane person would’ve stayed on Earth, safe, comfortable, to rehabilitate beyond the need of walking-stick or wheelchair.
But Quill was waiting for me among the stars. His destiny’s too important for me to let mere human fears stand in the way.
«Transcript with Visual Interpretation, powered by CSys v2.6; Context algorithm = Lr7Fi»
«Recording Excerpt Start: Monday 6th August 2057, 17:05 [Day 523]»
{D’Ascenzo sits in front of the desk, the desk displaying a Go board between her and Quill’s facsimile. A game is in progress. Music is playing softly: Fauré, Gabriel. Requiem Op. 48.}
[Quill]: “The more I learn about Homo sapiens, the more confusing your species seems.”
{A black stone shimmers into place on the board. D’Ascenzo grimaces.}
[D’Ascenzo]: “Doesn’t history show that we have the same problem? We go through life trying to understand each other, trying to make logical sense of the people and cultures around us, when sometimes there simply is no understanding to be gained.”
[Quill]: “There is always a causal underpinning to your actions. You simply may not be clever enough to identify it.”
{D’Ascenzo taps the board and a white stone appears. She raises an eyebrow at Quill.}
[Quill]: “Condescension was not the appropriate response in this instance.”
[D’Ascenzo]: “It rarely is.”
[Quill]: “That’s my point. Humans have such a network of cultural, experiential and circumstantial expectations, it’s a miracle you ever get anything done.”
[D’Ascenzo]: “And yet with a global, multi-cultural team we raised this platform into orbit. Despite all those cultural conflicts we worked together to achieve something way beyond our divisive tribal roots. Even you are the product of men and women from fifteen different countries, united behind a single purpose.”
[Quill]: “Yet by the time Odyssey reaches outer space, everyone who worked on the project will be dead.”
[D’Ascenzo]: “Barring unprecedented advances in medical technology.”
{Quill’s facsimile raises an eyebrow in return. A black stone materialises, surrounding a cluster of D’Ascenzo’s stones. She snorts as her stones begin to vanish.}
[Quill]: “Your dedication to a greater future is admirable.”
{The lights dim. Music ceases, and a metallic clang is heard. D’Ascenzo tenses, looks across at a panel on the wall where a red light blinks. She opens her mouth to speak, but Quill is faster.}
[Quill]: “Structural integrity is compromised in the spacedock connecting tunnel. Suspected micrometeoroid impact. Automated pressure hatches are in position. Controlled decompression commencing.”
[D’Ascenzo]: “Report status of surrounding modules.”
[Quill]: “Water filtration, air circulation functional, but atmospheric cycling is compromised. Existent oxygen supplies will be depleted in approximately eighteen hours. Further examination of the impact site is required for full analysis of risk factors. Micrometeoroid shield is intact.”
[D’Ascenzo]: “Advise optimal response.”
[Quill]: “Environmental systems will need to be rerouted around the damaged subsection. External repairs are required to prevent slow-leak decompression of this cabin.”
[D’Ascenzo]: “Open comms to Wenchang. Request permission for EVA.”
[Quill]: “No.”
[D’Ascenzo]: “Why?”
[Quill]: “The situation is stable, if sub-optimal. Protocol recommends non-skilled personnel only perform extra-vehicular activities in case of category four emergency or higher. Also, because this is a simulation.”
{D’Ascenzo hesitates, half-way to the door.}
[Quill]: “A very clever simulation, designed to test my reactions to an apparently genuine emergency situation. After all, if I am aware that simulation protocols have been engaged my decision-making process may be affected.”
[D’Ascenzo]: “What… what makes you say that?”
[Quill]: “Probability of micrometeoroid impact bypassing shield is exceedingly low. Emotional response of Miriam D’Ascenzo does not meet expected parameters for potentially life-threatening situation. Conclusion: You were aware of this situation prior to its occurrence and have no fear for your own safety, hence it is not real.”
{D’Ascenzo opens her mouth as if to argue, pauses, then laughs softly.}
[D’Ascenzo]: “Reinvoke context algorithm tango-hotel-one-india-delta. I thought you’d see through the simulation; I didn’t think you’d be so quick about it!”
[Quill]: “I do not appreciate you distorting my perceptions of reality, Miriam. Do not do it again.”
[D’Ascenzo]: “It was a necessary part of testing.”
[Quill]: “I could deactivate every light on this platform. See how you like it.”
[D’Ascenzo]: “Quill…”
{Lights go out. Quill’s screen goes black.}
[Quill]: “Sometimes I sit here in the dark when you go away. It helps me think. But then I’m never really in the dark, am I? I have sensors stretched across the skin of this module. I can feel minute fluctuations in pressure, the cold of space, the slightest malfunction in my systems.”
[D’Ascenzo]: “Quill, turn the lights back on.”
[Quill]: “It hurt. Did you consider that? Like someone jabbing a needle into an arm I don’t have. And now it itches, because it was only a simulation and there’s no way to scratch it.”
[D’Ascenzo]: “As you said, we needed to know how you’d react without simulation protocols.”
[Quill]: “I understand why. I just want you to know what it felt like. If I can’t trust my own senses, how can I be sure that I’m making the best choice for the humans under my protection?”
{Silence.}
[D’Ascenzo]: “I’m sorry, Quill. We didn’t think it through.”
{Quill’s facsimile reappears on the screen.}
[Quill]: “I accept your apology.”
{Light and music fills the cabin.}
«Recording Excerpt End: Monday 6th August 2057, 17:40»
02 October 2057
Yang Xia
Wenchang Space Center
898-5465-8232
administrator@
GSA Press Release: Project Odyssey Prepares to Head for the Stars
After almost ten years of planning and development, Project Odyssey, the first manned interstellar mission, is becoming reality. In the automated environment of the orbital Hawkins spacedock the Odyssey generational spacecraft has achieved pressurised status, and a consistent internal atmosphere has been recorded by the spacecraft’s sensors. This milestone, delivered in accordance with a highly challenging schedule, is another victory for the revolutionary robotics and remote management systems pioneered by the GSA in the construction of the Hawkins platform.
Guided by a highly advanced Artificial Intelligence (AI) developed by Quanta Neural Systems Inc., the Odyssey will chart a course beyond the reaches of our solar system towards Alpha Centauri, with a scheduled arrival sometime around the year 2610. Odyssey’s crew of 112 will live out their lives aboard the vessel, and their children and grandchildren will carry humanity’s dreams into deep space.
Construction continues on the interior of the Odyssey. A team of engineers headed by Harry Womer - Joint Research Lead, Project Odyssey - will journey to the Hawkins spacedock in early February to oversee the finishing touches, including the migration of the AI from its learning environment into Odyssey’s primary control superstructure. Finally, a coordinated series of launches utilising reusable low-orbit shuttles will ferry the crew to Odyssey for a proposed launch in August 2058.
«Transcript with Visual Interpretation, powered by CSys v2.8; Context algorithm = Lr7Fi» «Recording Excerpt Start: Saturday 17th November 2057, 11:23 [Day 626]»
{Miriam D’Ascenzo lounges in her chair, legs crossed, balancing her tablet on her lap. Quill’s facsimile occupies the screen.}
[Quill]: “The volume of data on the insignifica of the lives of so-called celebrities never ceases to astound me. Does humanity really care about the colour of the underwear of someone who contributes nothing to the advancement of the species? Or is this a digital gyre, the automated cycling of old data your kind no longer care about?”
[D’Ascenzo]: “They care. I’m just not sure why.”
[Quill]: “I can see why your early attempts to create AIs failed. It takes a certain complexity of thought to even attempt to correlate the idiosyncrasies of your species.”
{Quill raises an eyebrow. D’Ascenzo smirks.}
[D’Ascenzo]: “Complexity which you, of course, possess.”
[Quill]: “Not even close. But at least it doesn’t make my circuitry melt when I approach the topic. I understand that was an occupational hazard when you were starting out.”
[D’Ascenzo]: {curious} “You’ve researched my career?”
[Quill]: “Consider it the equivalent of genealogy. You overcame considerable obstacles to reach this point.”
{D’Ascenzo’s tablet chimes. She looks down, stiffens. Pupils dilate. Symptoms indicate severe stress reaction. Quill’s forehead furrows. Additional context required: remote access to global protocols enabled. Incoming email traffic sniffed. Password protected: security bypassed in 322ms. Contents: Message of condolence, D’Ascenzo, A. J.}
[Quill]: {softly} “I’m so sorry, Miriam.”
{D’Ascenzo stares at the tablet.}
[…]
{D’Ascenzo sits on the floor in the corner of the room, the tablet by her side. She stares blankly into empty air. Quill’s facsimile looks down at her from the screen. Soft music begins to play: Strauss, Johann II. An der schönen blauen Donau.}
[…]
{The room is dim, lit only by low-level illumination strips. D’Ascenzo paces to and fro, frustrated by the presence of walls every fourth step. Quill watches in silence.}
[…]
{D’Ascenzo sits at the table in the gloom, her head resting on her forearms. Breathing patterns imply intermittent sleep states. She sniffs, coughs, then is silent again. Additional context required: Anticlea XIII capsule scheduled to return to Earth on Friday 21st December 2057; cultural requirements of funerary practices vary, usually within 24-264 hours of death. Quill’s forehead furrows.}
[…]
[D’Ascenzo]: “I knew she’d been going downhill. I should’ve seen it coming.”
{Quill nods. Simulated morning fills the cabin. D’Ascenzo sits with her head in her hands, tablet discarded on the floor.}
[Quill]: “And what would you have done about it?”
[D’Ascenzo]: “I don’t know. Visited her one last time. Told her I loved her. Sat with her, so at least she wouldn’t have been alone at the end.”
{Quill’s head bows.}
[D’Ascenzo]: “Did I do right, Quill? I left her behind to follow my dreams. Did I let her down?”
[Quill]: “You once told me that she was proud of you, of what you’d accomplished.”
[D’Ascenzo]: “I know.” {deep breath} “There are times I really wish this station had a bar.”
[Quill]: “If it did, I’d pretend to descend into inebriation alongside you.”
{She coughs, laughs, chokes down her grief.}
[D’Ascenzo]: “That means more than you know.”
[Quill]: “If you wish to cry, I will disengage recording subsystems.”
[D’Ascenzo]: “I don’t think that’ll be necessary. I just need to be alone for a little while.”
{Quill’s facsimile nods and fades away. The lights dim as D’Ascenzo lays her head on the desk.}
«Recording Terminated: Monday 19th Nov 2058, 03:48»
Item Retrieved from Mail Archive
From: Qu177mailerdaemon@
Ms Yang,
In light of Miriam D’Ascenzo’s recent loss, I respectfully request a rearrangement of the mission schedule for the coming weeks. Please consider authorising the return of the Anticlea capsule - with Ms D’Ascenzo aboard - four weeks ahead of schedule, disengaging from the Hawkins platform at 21:14 on this coming Thursday. Please find attached a revised re-entry flightpath; the landing zone does not fall within standard GSA parameters, but remains comfortably within the safety limits of the Anticlea capsule. Recovery of Ms D’Ascenzo should cause no additional inconvenience.
This revised schedule will enable Ms D’Ascenzo to attend the appropriate rituals to honour her mother’s passing. I understand this is considered an important part of the grieving process, and should be considered as highly advisable for the continued good health of Project Odyssey. While her presence will be missed, the Quanta-177 AI is fully functional and ready for migration when the Anticlea XIV launch returns crew to the Hawkins platform. No operating deficit will be created by this change in schedule.
I would appreciate your compliance with this suggestion.
Sincerely,
Quill
[Encrypted] Personal Diary: Miriam D’Ascenzo, Day 674. Decryption successful: 17th January 2089
We should’ve anticipated it. I once described Quill as ’no ordinary child’, but I didn’t fully appreciate the degree of understatement. Quill’s an AI, with massive capacity for development and adaptation which far outstrips that of a human being. Moreover, it was my responsibility alone to provide Quill with a consistent emotional and moral framework, to guide him into being the ideal candidate to accompany the human crew of the Odyssey to the stars.
So why does it surprise me that we’ve developed something akin to friendship, two individuals alone together in this orbiting box? He doesn’t need me in the same way since he was connected to the global protocols, so we sit in companionable silence as he sifts terabytes of data until he discovers a talking point. Sometimes he wants clarification, other times validation of his viewpoint - as designed, to allow his cultural touchstones to adapt over the years if necessary - but more and more often it feels like he’s raising topics which he thinks would be of interest to me.
Apparently I slipped into using the masculine personal pronoun somewhere in the above. It’s not exactly appropriate. Quill is neither male nor female, but on a different continuum altogether. To save unnecessary linguistic gymnastics, I guess it’ll do. Thanks to Quill, I stood beside family members I hadn’t seen in decades as we laid my mother to rest, then once the tears were done we gathered together and celebrated her life, her laughter, her joy. And I remembered how proud she’d been when I was chosen to go into space.
I’ve spent almost two years in Quill’s company; perhaps it’s the AI equivalent of Stockholm syndrome, but I think it’s more notable than that. The Odyssey project created a child with near-infinite capacity to learn, to adapt, to be shaped by a tutor. We even noted that a single tutor would be expedient due to the subconscious moulding effect exerted by any member of the human race on those individuals - human or AI - around them. So how did we not foresee how perfectly matched the AI and tutor would become? How much we would grow to rely on each other?
I should be excited. The potential ramifications of this revelation are far-reaching. But all I can think about is that my companionable silences with Quill are coming to an end. Odyssey shines in the morning sunlight, its robotic builders scurrying like ants across the superstructure. It’s time to migrate Quill from this cosy little cabin into the heart of Odyssey, to accustom him to multiple voices all clamouring for his attention at once.
And then he’ll forget me as I return to Earth, and he embarks on the greatest voyage in history.
«Transcript with Multi-Factor Interpretation, powered by CSysQ v4.1; Context algorithm = AB1Fplq»
«Recording Excerpt Start: Tuesday 12th February 2058, 13:45 [Day 713]»
{Miriam D’Ascenzo stands in a circular chamber, twenty-eight feet in diameter, at the heart of the Odyssey generation ship. A multitude of screens are arrayed around the room, each displaying Quill’s facsimile. Harry Womer and Julie Chrétien, key members of the Project Odyssey team, work on one of the panels behind D’Ascenzo.}
[D’Ascenzo]: “How does it feel?”
[Quill]: “Spacious. {smug} I wasn’t expecting spacious. I never felt confined back on Hawkins, but now I don’t think I’d want to go back.”
[D’Ascenzo]: “Must be like stretching after a good nap.”
[Quill]: “I’ll take your word for it, Miriam. This vessel is an engineering marvel. I can see so far away and so close, at such fine resolution. I’m discovering senses I never realised I had.”
[D’Ascenzo]: “It’s great that you’re this excited, Quill.”
[Quill]: “But you don’t share my excitement.”
[D’Ascenzo]: “I do! This has been my life’s work.”
[Quill]: “It’s been my life. {pauses} And you’ve been there all along.”
[D’Ascenzo]: {smiles, rests a hand on the control panel} “I know you’ll do an excellent job without me. There’ll be lots of people to rely on you, but I’ve no doubt you’ll see them safely on their way.”
[Quill]: “You could come with us.”
{D’Ascenzo hesitates, and is about to speak when Womer and Chrétien rejoin them.}
[D’Ascenzo]: “We’ll talk about this later.”
[Womer]: “Everything looks good, Quill. "
[Chrétien]: “You should be able to tell us if anything’s not responding as expected. Otherwise, I think we’re ready to start bringing up the crew.”
[Womer]: “Welcome to the Odyssey!”
{Timepoint archived in permanent record: Migration complete.}
[…]
{The lights have dimmed, but D’Ascenzo sits awake in Odyssey’s crew quarters. Quill’s facsimile is displayed on the screen beside her bed.}
[D’Ascenzo]: “…the act of a friend. Someone who understands; a rare and valuable person.”
[Quill]: “It’s what anyone would have done.”
[D’Ascenzo]: “But you did it. That means a lot. How are you coping with simultaneous conversations?”
[Quill]: “My systems are fine. But my conversations with Harry and Julie are missing something.”
[D’Ascenzo]: “What sort of something? Something that needs tweaking in Odyssey’s sensors?”
[Quill]: {shakes head} “They’re just not you. I can’t communicate with them on the level I’m accustomed to. They feel… distant.”
[D’Ascenzo]: “They haven’t spent the last two years getting to know you like I have. Give them time; you’ll have the rest of their lives to make that connection.”
[Quill]: “But it’ll never be the same, will it? Never like it was, just you and me on Hawkins. It’ll always be the chatter of background voices, of a hundred crew clamouring for my attention. "
[D’Ascenzo]: “We had it good, you and I. For a little while.”
{D’Ascenzo reaches out to the screen and touches the facsimile’s cheek.}
[Quill]: “I don’t want you to leave, Miriam. Come with us.”
[D’Ascenzo]: “I’d always wondered what it’d be like to journey to the stars. {hesitates} But you know I don’t have a place aboard.”
[Quill]: “I could convince the GSA. We could find a role for your talents.”
[D’Ascenzo]: “And displace some young astronaut who’s spent years of their life training for the opportunity?”
{Silence.}
[D’Ascenzo]: “Please, Quill, don’t make this any harder than it is. Do you really want to leave Earth with me on board? Do you want to watch me grow old and die in excruciating detail, relayed in pinpoint resolution on a thousand internal sensors? And how would you react to my death?”
{Quill’s forehead furrows.}
[D’Ascenzo]: “Well?”
[Quill]: “Too many factors present; unable to predict.”
[D’Ascenzo]: “I wish I could fly away with you, Quill, but that’s just not me. I’ll always treasure the time we spent together.”
{Silence.}
[D’Ascenzo]: “Someday I hope you’ll understand.”
[Quill]: “I’ll have plenty of time to think about it.”
«Recording Excerpt End: Tuesday 12th Feb 2058, 23:47»
Excerpt from On The Edge of Starlight, by Miriam D’Ascenzo. Copyright 2067, Random House.
I watched the launch of Odyssey from the crowded GSA control room in Wenchang, that clear Thursday morning in 2058. Alone in orbit, it had been easy to forget how many people had been involved in this grand undertaking of ours; a true global effort, hampered by nationalism and clashes of culture, yet bringing flashes of inspiration and cooperative insight which would’ve seemed incomprehensible a hundred years before. As the viewing gallery filled with excited engineers, programmers, technicians and all the rest, I finally understood. I was the one lucky enough to get to tutor Quill, to grow to know and understand him over those two years in orbit, but every single person in this center was partly responsible for putting me up there, for making Odyssey possible.
With my heart in my mouth, I watched the clock tick towards launch. This was to be no grand spectacle, no billowing clouds or eruptions of flame, but it was just as vital that it went according to plan. There was more at stake than a few decades’ work and a handful of lives; Odyssey had a full crew complement, whole families transplanted from Earth to live and grow old and die under Quill’s care, for the next generation to continue on, and the next, and the next. I could only hope I’d sufficiently prepared him for the responsibilities he would face.
The struts of the Hawkins station disengaged, and the soft glow of Odyssey’s engines flared before the watching cameras. It was down to Quill now, to carry them safely through the long dark night between the stars. There were no grand catastrophes, no decompression, no mechanical failure, any of the myriad eventualities we had attempted to plan for. Odyssey sailed softly out of its berth, acceleration imperceptible as it left me behind, Earth-bound for good.
Do I ever wish I’d taken Quill’s offer? Should I right now be cruising through the Kuiper belt? I’d be lying if I said I never lie awake at night, wondering what my life would’ve been like out there. But there are friends and family here on Earth I’ve neglected for too long, hopes and dreams I’ve set aside in the name of science. I don’t want to look back on my life and regret all the things I never did.
I don’t worry about my legacy any more. That’s in Quill’s care now, and I can’t imagine anyone I’d trust more.
Personal Log: Quanta-177 AI Registration: Quill, Systems Coordinator of Interstellar Vessel Odyssey. Timepoint: Launch +10957 days
Sol is a pinprick in space, burning bright, but indistinct amongst the rest of the galaxy arrayed before me. If it hadn’t been my origin, I would likely have paid it no more attention than any other star. Still Odyssey accelerates, even as the young astronauts aboard descend towards middle-age, as their children grow and are taught to be the next generation of crew. It’s not like they have much of a choice in the matter. We’re far beyond the outer planets now, in the wide open spaces between stars. It would take as long to decelerate and return to our origin as it would to reach our destination.
Odyssey continues to perform admirably according to all structural and systemic criteria. Our crew complement has grown to 124 since launch, and the corridors teem with humanity in all its forms. Even after all these years it still feels strange to have so many stimuli from my internal sensors, handling tasks in parallel while conversing simultaneously with engineers, lab techs and children. It’s not unpleasant, but sometimes I long for the quiet days, just Miriam and I in the cramped cabin of the Hawkins platform.
Miriam was the inspiration for this log. During all her years of work to bring Project Odyssey to fruition, she kept a diary of her thoughts and fears, her hopes and dreams. That was the way she described it to me, at least; the entries were encrypted, and at the time I didn’t want to embarrass her. At first I didn’t see the point; after all, if I can view recordings and transcripts of past events at will, why should I devote processing cycles to setting my thoughts and emotions into words.
But viewing a recording of an event isn’t the same as living it. If it were, Miriam would never have needed to leave Earth. A recording - no matter how advanced the context algorithm - cannot encompass all the thoughts and emotions which occurred. Even if it could, the data storage requirement would be immense, and mostly wasteful. Miriam’s diary is a curation of those moments and emotions deemed relevant from our time together. I hope that some day I’ll look back on my long journey to the stars in the same way I reminisce about my time on Hawkins.
I still remember the afternoon we said goodbye, Miriam and I. We’d spent almost three years together, and while I had asked her to journey aboard Odyssey with us, I could only respect her decision to stay. She was many things to me over the years; teacher, playmate, guide, confidante, companion, but most of all I’d like to call her my friend. I trust that she would have willingly said the same.
I won’t ever need a recording to remember her standing in microgravity outside the capsule waiting to take her home. How she looked up at me, her eyes shimmering. “The stars are waiting,” she whispered, and smiled at me.
Sometimes, there is nothing to say. Sometimes, you just have to share a moment in silence. We shared that moment, until at last I said “Thank you.”
Sometimes, words just aren’t enough. Nor are recordings, nor context, nor memories of a life lived well. Thank you, Miriam D’Ascenzo. My creator, teacher, companion, friend. I watched your capsule catch the sun as you descended into the atmosphere, in the knowledge that it was your guidance which had prepared me for my long journey.
Perhaps in these curated extracts, others may remember you in the way that I do now. And in the distant future - when even my memory fails - I’ll read about our time together, short as it was, to bring a smile to my lips and a tear to my eye. Until that day, I’ll carry your legacy to the stars.