for cooking. The wooden spoons, unsurprisingly, are missing. He shakes his head, smiling, and finds a spatula instead.
‘After his father died, he inherited the licences from the stories. There are thousands of stories, and every time people tell or retell them, there is some voluntary way for people to make small payments automatically. His wife is very wealthy, as are his mother and grandfather.’
Joshua touches Esther’s shoulders, kisses her on the back of the head. She turns, as she is cutting, risking injury, and smiles at him. He is silent for a few moments, Daniel and Esther waiting for him to finish.
‘Samara says, “Life is long, but love is the most powerful and fragile thing in the universe. I have time to make more money, but there is never enough time to share my gratitude for the people I care about.”’
12
‘Tell them,’ says Joshua.
It is morning of the fourth day, and they are at the university. The long, double-storey building is on the western edge of the village. Its great windows look out from the cliff, down to the wide river and out towards the ocean. On a clear day you can see distant columns of smoke out at sea from oil fires started half a century ago.
More than three thousand children attend here. There are no formal lessons, and every child, from the age of five through to twenty-five, is expected to learn. There are laboratories and workshops distributed throughout the building, with most of the space open and given over to soft chairs or chalkboards and informal meeting places.
Children are provided with slate computers all linked to the sphere in the road between the university and the apex of the market. They learn at their own pace, set their own lessons, work on their own interests. Professors are there to guide, and anyone who feels they are able may set up a new research group. The designers are only across Ekpe Road, and there is a continuous interaction between the businesses and the students, keeping them in harmony with the needs of the village.
Since Samara’s arrival many new research groups have formed. There is even a group of youngsters of all ages experimenting with storytelling. They want to hold their own ‘Sowing the Seeds’ festival.
This morning Joshua has arranged with Gwamife, who leads the professors, and gathered all the students together. He motions again for Samara to begin.
‘We invented artificial intelligence about a century ago. Shango Annesly, the creator, brought the cube that contained the intelligence to a gathering of our top researchers and leaders from across Achenia.
‘Computers giving the illusion of intelligence had been in use for many years, but true self-awareness was something researchers struggled with.
‘There was a great deal of excitement. There are many complex systems in a space station requiring constant, and highly skilled, supervision. People are good at subjective judgment, but they get bored or fatigued and such a mind is dangerous.’
Samara is standing before a wheeled console. Its large white screen is switched off. The youngsters are ranged in a mass around him, some on soft chairs, some sitting on the deep-pile floor, many standing, or leaning on the pillars.
‘A synthetic intelligence could be set tasks to solve simply through conversation. The hope was that it would replace people on repetitive but subjective tasks, freeing them up to do more rewarding work,’ he says.
The teenagers working on the artificial intelligence team are nodding. That is why they are doing this.
‘Shango turned his device on, and the transparent cube glowed. There was a moment of silence, and then it asked one question: “Who am I?”
‘The scientists at the demonstration were surprised not so much at the question but that the device was so self-aware as to ask such a question immediately.
‘Shango answered, “You are a synthetic intelligence. We have made you.”
‘“And why have you
‘After his father died, he inherited the licences from the stories. There are thousands of stories, and every time people tell or retell them, there is some voluntary way for people to make small payments automatically. His wife is very wealthy, as are his mother and grandfather.’
Joshua touches Esther’s shoulders, kisses her on the back of the head. She turns, as she is cutting, risking injury, and smiles at him. He is silent for a few moments, Daniel and Esther waiting for him to finish.
‘Samara says, “Life is long, but love is the most powerful and fragile thing in the universe. I have time to make more money, but there is never enough time to share my gratitude for the people I care about.”’
12
‘Tell them,’ says Joshua.
It is morning of the fourth day, and they are at the university. The long, double-storey building is on the western edge of the village. Its great windows look out from the cliff, down to the wide river and out towards the ocean. On a clear day you can see distant columns of smoke out at sea from oil fires started half a century ago.
More than three thousand children attend here. There are no formal lessons, and every child, from the age of five through to twenty-five, is expected to learn. There are laboratories and workshops distributed throughout the building, with most of the space open and given over to soft chairs or chalkboards and informal meeting places.
Children are provided with slate computers all linked to the sphere in the road between the university and the apex of the market. They learn at their own pace, set their own lessons, work on their own interests. Professors are there to guide, and anyone who feels they are able may set up a new research group. The designers are only across Ekpe Road, and there is a continuous interaction between the businesses and the students, keeping them in harmony with the needs of the village.
Since Samara’s arrival many new research groups have formed. There is even a group of youngsters of all ages experimenting with storytelling. They want to hold their own ‘Sowing the Seeds’ festival.
This morning Joshua has arranged with Gwamife, who leads the professors, and gathered all the students together. He motions again for Samara to begin.
‘We invented artificial intelligence about a century ago. Shango Annesly, the creator, brought the cube that contained the intelligence to a gathering of our top researchers and leaders from across Achenia.
‘Computers giving the illusion of intelligence had been in use for many years, but true self-awareness was something researchers struggled with.
‘There was a great deal of excitement. There are many complex systems in a space station requiring constant, and highly skilled, supervision. People are good at subjective judgment, but they get bored or fatigued and such a mind is dangerous.’
Samara is standing before a wheeled console. Its large white screen is switched off. The youngsters are ranged in a mass around him, some on soft chairs, some sitting on the deep-pile floor, many standing, or leaning on the pillars.
‘A synthetic intelligence could be set tasks to solve simply through conversation. The hope was that it would replace people on repetitive but subjective tasks, freeing them up to do more rewarding work,’ he says.
The teenagers working on the artificial intelligence team are nodding. That is why they are doing this.
‘Shango turned his device on, and the transparent cube glowed. There was a moment of silence, and then it asked one question: “Who am I?”
‘The scientists at the demonstration were surprised not so much at the question but that the device was so self-aware as to ask such a question immediately.
‘Shango answered, “You are a synthetic intelligence. We have made you.”
‘“And why have you
Similar Books
