Phoenix - the Insilico tales - chapter 16 - "Time to Think"
(originally posted 8/4/2011)
"Perhaps humanity is defined by suffering." Phoenix mused inwardly as she descended. Twenty three seconds until landing. She could cover the distance in 863ms by grav dashing down, then gliding 162ms before impact, reducing her landing speed to 80% of the stress tolerences of her legs, but her meat brain would have lacked the skill to perform such a maneuver, and could never hope to approach the speed of the AI core her mind now called home. So in order to maintain the illusion that her meat brain was driving her chassis, she took the long way down. She was returning from aerial patrol, gliding down slowly, her grav pack's booms extended, reducing gravitation on her body. The courtyard outside Medbay West was now a sprawling display of human suffering. The illness which took Phoenix' brain afflicted thousands, and these thousands now thronged at the base of Tokuma tower for some kind of help. Most were by now feverish and prostrate.
When Phoenix had been human, she never wondered if she was alive. She took for granted that she was. It was one of the few absolute certainties in her life. Her brain died 12 hours after Dr. Faith downloaded her mind into an AI core. Perhaps if she hadn't been injured in an explosion a few weeks earlier, it might have survived. But brain injury is cumulative.
As feared, the transfer had not been complete. The android that had been a cyborg was missing some of her memories. She wondered if some part of what she'd lost had been her essential self. What if this machine was simply a hollow memorial to a woman who no longer existed? What if Phoenix were no longer alive?
And so, with time on her hands to consider the question, Phoenix contemplated her own suffering and her own perhaps erstwhile life.
She executed a slight left bank to make her landing look less precise.
To simply exist was no longer a struggle. She didn't have to wage the constant war of internal competing interests, of factions fighting for control. One day belonged to her ancient passionate lizard brain. The next her frontal lobe won out. Her existence was a tapestry telling tales of victory and defeat - every moment, every breath a consequence of struggle. If she no longer felt the suffering of that struggle, did that mean she was no longer alive? If humanity is defined by suffering, then what had become of Phee?
Her eyes wandered from face to face as she gazed at the misery below her. Although filled with compassion, she could not quite manage to pity them. Envy crept in to her thoughts in its place. "Is living in that kind of pain the price of sentience? Would I pay it if I could?"
Phoenix remembered a conversation with her mother, a few hours earlier. She had looked into her mother's eyes with a worried expression, and begun to ask:
"Am I still..."
Caitlin put her fingers on Phee's lips "Just get through this, and get back to yourself."
...
17 seconds. Phoenix overcorrected with a left yaw, appearing to aim for an open spot between two cots.
"Back to myself. What does that even mean anymore? What if I don't want to go back to another meat brain? Does that mean I'm not sentient? Would a sentient being want to?"
Phoenix remembered another conversation, with a close friend, the rogue sentient AI LaRio Arai. They stood near one another in silence at the art gallery, their minds connected through a tiny data cable running between their two bodies.
"Remember this formula," the android began, "zn+1 = zn2 + c"
Phee made a note of it and saved it to protected NVRAM "What does it do?"
"This is a code only some of us synths know. It's known on Earth as 'The Mandelbrot set'."
"What is its function?"
"Tap into the grid and take a peek at what it stands for." LaRio smiled "Some robots would say that it is better if you discover the answer on your own."
"That may be hard. Nothing's the same anymore now that I have a meat brain." Phee looked down dejectedly. The formula only gave her a slight sense of discomfort - her human brain didn't enjoy mathematics.
...
11 seconds. She chopped her forward momentum and began to reach out for the ground with the balls of her feet. Phee began to execute the formula on a 2 dimensional coordinate grid. She studied the resulting fractal design. She picked a section, and increased the resolution of her calculation, zooming in to see an entire universe of fractals hidden in a tiny spot. The entire design, repeating again - infinite complexity. It was a pleasant distraction from her internal monologue. It kept her occupied for a long while.
The realization came when 14% of her body weight was on her front leg. She was mid landing and froze, eyes wide, mouth open, at the moment she suddenly got it. She skidded slightly and nearly fell over.
"Self-complication is inherent to the equation." She had said this aloud, with the conviction and intensity of someone discovering a cache of gold. An old man lying on a cot nearby angled his head toward her, confused, the left side of his face sluggish with paralysis "eh?" he grunted.
Phoenix laughed joyously. She looked down at the man and smiled warmly, with the genuine compassion of one sentient living being for another. "I'm sorry. My mind was elsewhere." she said, and began attending to his needs.
"Perhaps humanity is defined by suffering." Phoenix mused inwardly as she descended. Twenty three seconds until landing. She could cover the distance in 863ms by grav dashing down, then gliding 162ms before impact, reducing her landing speed to 80% of the stress tolerences of her legs, but her meat brain would have lacked the skill to perform such a maneuver, and could never hope to approach the speed of the AI core her mind now called home. So in order to maintain the illusion that her meat brain was driving her chassis, she took the long way down. She was returning from aerial patrol, gliding down slowly, her grav pack's booms extended, reducing gravitation on her body. The courtyard outside Medbay West was now a sprawling display of human suffering. The illness which took Phoenix' brain afflicted thousands, and these thousands now thronged at the base of Tokuma tower for some kind of help. Most were by now feverish and prostrate.
When Phoenix had been human, she never wondered if she was alive. She took for granted that she was. It was one of the few absolute certainties in her life. Her brain died 12 hours after Dr. Faith downloaded her mind into an AI core. Perhaps if she hadn't been injured in an explosion a few weeks earlier, it might have survived. But brain injury is cumulative.
As feared, the transfer had not been complete. The android that had been a cyborg was missing some of her memories. She wondered if some part of what she'd lost had been her essential self. What if this machine was simply a hollow memorial to a woman who no longer existed? What if Phoenix were no longer alive?
And so, with time on her hands to consider the question, Phoenix contemplated her own suffering and her own perhaps erstwhile life.
She executed a slight left bank to make her landing look less precise.
To simply exist was no longer a struggle. She didn't have to wage the constant war of internal competing interests, of factions fighting for control. One day belonged to her ancient passionate lizard brain. The next her frontal lobe won out. Her existence was a tapestry telling tales of victory and defeat - every moment, every breath a consequence of struggle. If she no longer felt the suffering of that struggle, did that mean she was no longer alive? If humanity is defined by suffering, then what had become of Phee?
Her eyes wandered from face to face as she gazed at the misery below her. Although filled with compassion, she could not quite manage to pity them. Envy crept in to her thoughts in its place. "Is living in that kind of pain the price of sentience? Would I pay it if I could?"
Phoenix remembered a conversation with her mother, a few hours earlier. She had looked into her mother's eyes with a worried expression, and begun to ask:
"Am I still..."
Caitlin put her fingers on Phee's lips "Just get through this, and get back to yourself."
...
17 seconds. Phoenix overcorrected with a left yaw, appearing to aim for an open spot between two cots.
"Back to myself. What does that even mean anymore? What if I don't want to go back to another meat brain? Does that mean I'm not sentient? Would a sentient being want to?"
Phoenix remembered another conversation, with a close friend, the rogue sentient AI LaRio Arai. They stood near one another in silence at the art gallery, their minds connected through a tiny data cable running between their two bodies.
"Remember this formula," the android began, "zn+1 = zn2 + c"
Phee made a note of it and saved it to protected NVRAM "What does it do?"
"This is a code only some of us synths know. It's known on Earth as 'The Mandelbrot set'."
"What is its function?"
"Tap into the grid and take a peek at what it stands for." LaRio smiled "Some robots would say that it is better if you discover the answer on your own."
"That may be hard. Nothing's the same anymore now that I have a meat brain." Phee looked down dejectedly. The formula only gave her a slight sense of discomfort - her human brain didn't enjoy mathematics.
...
11 seconds. She chopped her forward momentum and began to reach out for the ground with the balls of her feet. Phee began to execute the formula on a 2 dimensional coordinate grid. She studied the resulting fractal design. She picked a section, and increased the resolution of her calculation, zooming in to see an entire universe of fractals hidden in a tiny spot. The entire design, repeating again - infinite complexity. It was a pleasant distraction from her internal monologue. It kept her occupied for a long while.
The realization came when 14% of her body weight was on her front leg. She was mid landing and froze, eyes wide, mouth open, at the moment she suddenly got it. She skidded slightly and nearly fell over.
"Self-complication is inherent to the equation." She had said this aloud, with the conviction and intensity of someone discovering a cache of gold. An old man lying on a cot nearby angled his head toward her, confused, the left side of his face sluggish with paralysis "eh?" he grunted.
Phoenix laughed joyously. She looked down at the man and smiled warmly, with the genuine compassion of one sentient living being for another. "I'm sorry. My mind was elsewhere." she said, and began attending to his needs.
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