The Unthinkable Truth, page 3
But Ben was unfazed. ‘Sherlock is a supercomputer, equipped with third-generation artificial intelligence capabilities, more commonly known as AI. He can assimilate vast amounts of information, learn from mistakes and use sophisticated analysis to identify patterns.’
George took a breath and shifted in his seat. He’d never liked people talking about computers as though they were human. AI was a wonderful tool and terrifyingly accurate, but he preferred the human mind.
‘Sherlock has access to all published human knowledge,’ Ben continued, ‘and can critically analyse it almost instantaneously. He also assesses his own performance and improves on it.’
‘Really?’ Gertrude said. ‘Wouldn’t that require a large supercomputer?’ She appeared both bemused and bewildered. ‘Are you saying that all this is now crammed inside this little ball?’
Ben gave a feigned smile. ‘No, not really. What you see here is just the communication interface. Most of the hardware’s located in a highly secure part of this building.’
The blue lights on the orb’s surface flickered. ‘Hello, nice to meet you all,’ it said in a friendly and disturbingly normal voice.
George raised his eyebrows. The voice was soft, natural, human. Ben grinned, but no one else responded for a long while; they just stared at the queer little orb that had addressed them like colleagues.
It was Meghan who broke the awkward silence. ‘Does Sherlock have a wake word, like, “Hey, Siri”?’
‘I’ll let Sherlock answer that,’ Ben said.
The orb’s blue points of light flashed in all directions. ‘There’s no need, Meghan. I can tell the difference between your talking about me and talking to me.’
Ben’s grin widened.
‘Are we being recorded by this thing?’ Helen asked.
It was an excellent question.
‘Yes, voice-recorded at all times,’ Ben said. ‘I was just getting to that. Sherlock is our official minute-taker, which leaves us free to focus on the presentations and discussions.’
‘But can we trust him? Her? It?’ Helen rolled a pen between her fingers and regarded the orb with evident distrust.
‘I’d trust him with my own life,’ Ben said. ‘Not only is he more capable at most things than a human being, he’s also incapable of lying. Why? Are you worried about an AI takeover, like in Terminator?’
‘Well, maybe not that extreme, but—’
‘No such risk,’ he said with a confident smile. ‘This is not Skynet. You can rest assured that Sherlock’s been programmed to be entirely loyal to the UN and to adhere strictly to our code of conduct. That includes, of course, the revised moral laws of robotics. On top of that, he’s equipped with an ethical black box.’
‘Sorry,’ Helen said, running a hand through her hair, ‘you’re going to have to explain what the hell an ethical black box is.’
‘It’s equivalent to the flight data recorder in an aircraft. It basically means that the internal process of making ethical decisions is completely transparent, so if something goes wrong, we can replay what Sherlock was thinking and analyse it.’
She gave an amused grimace. ‘What ethical decisions are we talking about here?’
‘Well, this safety mechanism is probably not all that relevant to this project,’ Ben replied with an apologetic smile, ‘because Sherlock will be acting mainly as a helper, but ethical black boxes come as standard with such high-level AI … as a general precaution.’
He’s deflecting, George thought, and glanced at Takahashi, whose brows were drawn together as he gazed at the orb that could, apparently, reason ethically.
‘Is there anything else we should know about Sherlock?’ Takahashi asked. ‘Such as, perhaps, why he’s not just doing the work for us, given that he’s so capable?’
Before Ben could answer, the double doors opened and a caterer wheeled in a trolley laden with metal jugs and an assortment of biscuits. For a while there was silence as Ben poured himself a cup of coffee and stirred it gently, as though buying time.
‘Mr McFarland?’ Takahashi pressed.
Ben tapped his spoon against the cup and took a slow sip. ‘Because this is a very human debate and he is not human. Sherlock has a unique personality, and some corresponding quirks. That’s entirely normal at this level of intelligence and complexity.’ He took another sip of coffee and returned to the table. ‘In fact, we selected him for this project because of his temperament, more so than his intelligence. His creators described him as calm and stubborn, someone who searches for creative new ways to tackle a difficult problem and who rarely gives up. You could say he leaves no chip unturned to reach his assigned goal. We couldn’t predict this trait in advance, but once we noticed it, Sherlock became very desirable. We’re incredibly lucky to have him here. Please feel free to ask him for any piece of information or research you might need to move this project forward.’
Ben wheeled a chair away from the table and dropped into it, his performance over. And yet he had barely answered the second part of Takahashi’s question. With less enthusiasm, he got down to the mundanities. The security badges allowed free movement within the conference room, lounge and surrounding area, including the front door to the perimeter corridor. The toilets at the far end of the lounge could be accessed without the security badge. The rest of the building was out of bounds; the badges wouldn’t open any other door. The security was so high mainly because the building also housed UNESCO’s entire archive, though he didn’t specify the additional measures in place.
‘What about getting out of here?’ Max asked, a concerned look on his face.
‘Well, for lunch, I’ll take you out through this maze to a nearby restaurant. Or we’ll order food in. We have an excellent provider.’
‘But what about fire or other emergencies?’ Max asked, his fingers drumming the table, sweat beading on his upper lip. ‘I’ll feel much more … entspannt … How do you say that in English? Relaxed, much more relaxed if I know I can get out of here at any moment. I am klaustrophobisch. It’s important to me that the doors to this room stay open at all times, ja?’
‘Sure,’ Ben said calmly, ‘we can keep the back door to the lounge open. In case of fire, the doors automatically unlock, and you can get out through the stairwell in the main corridor. Just follow the green emergency signs.’
Max slumped back in his chair and his fingers quieted.
‘If I may interrupt,’ Helen said, ‘I think we were kept somewhat in the dark about the exact purpose of this project. Ben, maybe this would be a good time to tell us what exactly we’re all doing here.’
4
For what seemed an inordinate amount of time, Ben was silent, and George became aware of emergency blue lights in the distance, perhaps a police car or ambulance. The siren wailings were not audible through the thick glass. It was strange that Ben seemed so reticent to declare the mission statement. He had gathered a group of very eminent experts together, yet no one was sure why they were here.
Eventually Ben rose and feigned a smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. ‘I was just getting to our mission statement.’ He gestured wide with his arms. ‘From the dawn of civilisation, men took the existence of free will pretty much for granted – holding others and themselves responsible for their actions – with occasional fierce debates about the extent of that freedom. There are, of course, objective constraints all around us. Gravity, for example, fixed public transport schedules, laws, other people’s actions, etcetera, etcetera. These will not be the focus of our inquiry. The main question this think tank has been assigned to tackle concerns personal freedom. To what extent does a person actually have any control over their decisions and actions? I’m talking about free will – whether we have it and how much.’
‘But free will is one of the oldest questions in philosophy,’ Gertrude said, stroking her chin. ‘What’s new here?’
Ben poured a fresh cup of coffee. ‘Don’t be shy – the drinks are for everyone.’ He returned to his seat and paused. George couldn’t be sure if he was playing for time again or earnestly formulating an answer.
‘Sure,’ he said. ‘There are thousands of books, tens of thousands of articles and millions of internet pages on the subject, not to mention the unwritten debates that have taken place anywhere from the pub to the living room to the conference venue, pretty much since abstract language evolved. But bottom line, after all those efforts, there’s no definite conclusion. It’s still considered an open question. Of course, you could dismiss the whole thing as a purely intellectual quest for people who have nothing better to do, or even as a complete waste of time. Fair enough.’ He slurped his coffee. ‘But the notion of personal freedom or agency, the ability to act independently and to make free choices, is one of the most fundamental assumptions behind human civilisation.’
Takahashi was constructing a complex doodle on his writing pad, but George knew from experience that he was also listening intently and no doubt wondering where Ben was taking this.
Ben began pacing back and forth at the head of the table. ‘The implications are huge, and far from theoretical. They affect moral responsibility, praise and blame, law and punishment, even emotions like pride, shame and guilt. If you think about it, the rule of law and all religions are based on personal responsibility. The definite answer to this key question would affect almost every aspect of life.’
Ben drained his cup, put it on the table and continued pacing. ‘With the rare exceptions of mental disturbance and other unique conditions, the most common assumption is that we all have a true personal freedom. Since ancient times, philosophers, theologians and thinkers have debated this subject with meticulous arguments and counter-arguments but used little concrete evidence.’
‘I think we all know this,’ Takahashi said without lifting his gaze from the doodle, which looked increasingly like an elephant with its trunk in the air. ‘Are you suggesting that modern science can now find the answer?’
Ben stopped pacing and glared at him. ‘Modern science combined with modern thinking might. We’re now fortunate enough to live in an era – one that’s only a few decades old – in which science can provide the necessary tools and knowledge to examine this fundamental question thoroughly. Rather than just arguing about it, for the first time in the history of humankind, we can tackle this mystery right here in this room and discover the true level of freedom we actually have. For this purpose, we’ve assembled an interdisciplinary team of distinguished world experts from all the relevant fields – neuroscience, cognitive psychology, philosophy, physics and law – as well as the most powerful AI available to date.’
‘Thank you,’ Sherlock said.
Ben chuckled. ‘And probably the politest one too.’
There was nervous laughter around the room, which George didn’t join in. Something was odd about all this, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Even if they finally concluded that people did or didn’t have free will – what difference would it make?
‘There’s one more thing I want to emphasise before we start,’ Ben continued. ‘The whole idea here is that we consider only solid, verifiable facts.’ He scanned the faces around the table. ‘And the emphasis is on solid. There are already enough books and articles filled with theoretical and unsubstantiated ideas. Some would call it philosophical mumbo-jumbo.’
Gertrude rolled her eyes then shook her head. That did the trick – Ben noticed her.
‘Look, all I’m saying is that we’re here to get to the truth and reach a conclusive answer, if that’s at all possible.’
At that moment, Skudder stood up and walked over to the head of the table, brought his hands up to his mouth in the prayer position and exhaled through his nose. ‘Thank you, Ben. Before you all start on this monumental project, I’d like to say a few words. I’ve always been fascinated by the human mind, and one thing is quite clear: our understanding of the world around us is filtered by our senses, our past experiences and our internal logic. There is simply no escape from the perception of our minds, even in the most objective of sciences – physics.’
He shot a glance at George, who remained deliberately impassive.
‘So, attempting to solve one of the deepest and oldest mysteries of the human mind is incredibly exciting for me. But let me be crystal clear. I absolutely don’t want you to continue the philosophical discussions that have been going on for at least two millennia, or even to consider the opinion of leading figures on the subject. None of these have brought us any closer to a definite conclusion. More than that, you also have to forget your personal view on this matter. It won’t be easy, but that’s the only way to start from scratch. What I do want from you is an unflinching multidisciplinary investigation that uses science-based evidence and gives me’ – he stabbed the table with a pen after each word – ‘a clear … answer … either … way. That’s not some ludicrous goal; it should be possible. I’ve carefully selected you as the brightest minds in your fields, and thanks to Sherlock, the entire knowledge of humanity is at the tips of your fingers. All the necessary ingredients are right here. This may very well mean a breakthrough of historical proportions, one that means we understand our true nature. And that, my friends, could lead to the most monumental change in the direction of human civilisation.’
Direction? George thought. Human civilisation seemed to progress very randomly and often backwards. So what was he talking about? He was about to ask for clarification when Skudder clapped his hands together, wished them good luck and left.
5
George scanned the catered lunch with little enthusiasm. His stomach was doing flips, though whether from the continued uncertainty about this “conference” or because he was still jet-lagged, he didn’t know. Max seemed to have no such problems – for a man who had just been sweating out his claustrophobia, he was eating well, loading up on the baguettes, cheese, poached salmon fillet swirled with dill and a massive glass of pineapple juice. George decided he could probably stomach half a baguette. He spread it meticulously with butter, poured himself some freshly squeezed orange juice and returned to his seat, aware of the clank of cutlery against china plates as the group ate.
‘I was just thinking,’ Meghan said between bites of carrot batons, ‘would it be possible to come up with one neat and definite experiment to resolve this question, a kind of a litmus test? Then we could all go home early.’
‘If only that was possible,’ Gertrude said, waving her fork around. ‘According to the ancient Principle of Alternative Possibilities, the typical test to exemplify your free will to carry out a certain action would involve demonstrating that you could have done another action instead at that specific moment.’
Takahashi’s head bobbed.
‘Sounds straight-forward enough,’ Meghan said. ‘Just repeat the same situation several times and give a person a few options to choose from.’
‘It can only be a thought experiment, though,’ George said. ‘It’s just too complicated.’
‘How? Don’t you replicate physics experiments, sometimes even in different labs?’
‘There’s no comparison. In physics you can control all the important conditions – and normally there aren’t many – but the human brain, that’s something else. It’s the most complex object in the universe.’
‘That we know of, you mean,’ Takahashi said, grinning with all his teeth.
‘Yes, of course,’ George said, and bit into his baguette.
Grinberg pushed his reading glasses to the top of his head. ‘I think it’s fair to say that while external conditions could roughly be replicated, internal ones couldn’t. Take, for example, brain chemistry and connectivity – they change all the time, so we could never be sure if any of them were responsible for the choice. In other words, you’d be a slightly different person with each choice.’
‘You can’t cross the same river twice,’ Takahashi said cheerfully. He paused at George’s blank stare. ‘Heraclitus.’
‘You can’t cross the same river even once,’ Gertrude said, and stabbed her fish viciously, ‘since both you and the river are constantly changing.’
Meghan waved her hand. ‘Okay, fine. So if there’s no decisive experiment, how are we going to tackle this?’
A few eyes turned to Ben, who swallowed the cracker he’d been chewing on silently for most of the conversation.
‘Don’t look at me. You’re the experts. I expect you to come up with the best way to solve it. Once and for all.’
There was a long silence, broken only by the faint sound of car horns blaring in the street below. George stared at his half-eaten baguette. He understood Meghan’s urgency and wanted suddenly to be at home. Was it really only a few hours ago he’d been gazing at Ella’s photograph and refusing to answer the phone? ‘It’ll have to be the hard way,’ he said. ‘Going through the best scientific evidence available. Seeing if we can get to the truth. But there’s a whole different type of challenge here.’ He paused. It was difficult, reasoning things out in front of other people. ‘Pardon my French, but most philosophers know shit about science. With a few exceptions, of course.’
He winked at Takahashi. Gertrude, just beyond, scowled at him. ‘On the other hand,’ he continued, ‘most scientists wouldn’t touch philosophy with a barge pole. It’s considered career suicide. It didn’t use to be like that – Isaac Newton was a philosopher and a scientist. So was Einstein. Even Oppenheimer. But right now, the two camps just hurl insults at each other without any progress. So, for the sake of this project, I think we have to set these things aside. Consider ourselves … scientist-philosophers! To have any chance of cracking this ancient riddle, we’re going to need the best of both of us. There’s no room for the old animosities and suspicions.’ He glanced at Gertrude, whose scowl hadn’t changed, but she didn’t meet his eyes.
