The Other Side of Nowhere (2 page)

Meeting Jonah

It never occurred to me I'd be psychoanalyzing the first living machine. 

Don’t get me wrong, AIs had been around for a few decades now. Hell, the university library had a level-3 installed the year before I started teaching, but an intelligent machine and a sentient one are two totally different things. Before Jonah, an AI was nothing more than an overly complex system of programs, making decisions based on logic algorithms and probability.
They called them intelligent, but it didn’t mean the same for them that it did for us. Not really.

Jonah was a level-7, the first of his kind. He was an experiment, a way to see how far they could push the tech. They never expected him to be sentient. They just thought they were building a smarter construct.

Suffice it to say, when the boys in white coats realized what they had on their hands, the whole project was put under lock and key.

My job was to go in and talk to the thing, this new AI. Try to discern if it was mentally unstable. I’m just a psychologist—hardly an expert on computer engineering, but I wasn’t about to argue with a paycheck that large. I had bills to pay.

When I first received the call for this job, they told me the basics. The artificial intelligence in question was the most complex of any to date, possibly exhibiting sentience, but such a conclusion had yet to be drawn. I didn’t know how many other specialists were brought in before me, but I assumed I wasn’t the first. Surely, there had to be others.

Upon accepting the offer, I was told a car would arrive for me the following morning. It did, and I was taken to the nearby Navy base. I received a half hour briefing, only to be shoved on a plane and sent straight to Ohio…to a place called Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, home of the military’s most advanced research lab to date.

On the plane, I met a man named Briggs. I never got his first name. He sat across from me, dressed in his Air Force blues, his chest overflowing with ribbons. I assumed he was probably important.

“Nice to meet you, Doc,” he said, extending his hand.

“You, too,” I said, shaking it.

“You’ve already been briefed on what you’re doing, right?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Good. Truth is, everything you’re going to see is classified top secret. I’ve got the paperwork here for you to sign. It should only take a few minutes.” He handed me a thick binder and a pen. “Sign every page you see a yellow sticker.”

I started to read the document, but stopped when I realized how many pages there were. Over a hundred and fifty. Forget it, I thought, and just signed them all. What can I say? If you’ve seen one top secret non-disclosure agreement, you’ve seen them all.

I handed the binder back to blue buckle Briggs and kept the pen.

*****

When the cab pulled up to the front gate of the base, I showed the guard my new ID card, which I’d received on the flight over, and after an awkward glance that lasted longer than I’d care to say, he let me in. I’d never been on a military base before, so seeing troops running in formation down the side of the road as jets soared overhead came as a bit of a shock. It made me wonder what it must be like…to dedicate yourself to a cause, to put your life on the line. I tried to imagine myself in a war, but couldn’t. I wasn’t a soldier. I wasn’t brave. I was just a guy, trying to pay the bills.  

The car arrived at a three story building with badge security. The solders led me through the lobby and a set of double doors. One stayed in front of me, while the other followed from behind. As we turned the corner, I saw a woman dressed in gray. No doubt an administrative assistant sent to escort me further, maybe run me through a few security briefs. She smiled immediately. “Dr. James Harper, I presume?”

“That’s me,” I answered.

“I was told to expect you,” she said.  

I stifled a yawn. The jetlag was starting to hit me. “Are you the one who gets to show me where to go and what to do?”

“Certainly,” she said. The tone of her voice didn’t match her smile.  It was distant, preoccupied.  There was a band of pale skin on her left hand’s index finger. In her other hand, a piece of plastic with my picture on it, which she presented to me. “I have your ID here. Your code is the last four digits of your social.”

“Thanks,” I said, taking it.

She nodded to the two armed soldiers, who promptly left, and proceeded to show me to another set of double doors. We each swiped our ID cards through the scanner and punched in our codes. It was protocol for government facilities housing top secret material. “You know,” I said as we left the lobby and turned into a long stretch of hall. “You can just point me in the right direction. I’m sure I can figure out the rest.”

“No, don’t be silly,” she said. “I’m happy to help. This is important work.”

She led me down a long hallway with dozens of doors. Some were open. Most were closed. At the end we stopped at a room labeled 47, which seemed to be a little larger than the rest. “This is it,” she explained. “Inside is the computer system for which you are responsible. Please do not go into any of the other offices unless you are given permission by the floor administrator, which in this case would be Dr. Shelby.”

“Do you even know what these computers
are
?” I asked.

“Of course I do,” she said. “Artificial Intelligence. Level-7. The rest are only fours or fives. His number is 12-484301-29-00 and he was created on July 22
nd
of this year.”

I blinked. “You know a lot for a secretary.”

“Who said I was a secretary?” She asked, lowering her brow.

“Sorry, I just assumed—”

“It’s fine,” she said, clearly convinced that I was an ass
.
I was too tired to try and change her mind. “Anyway, proceed through here and you’ll find the patient. He’ll address you when you arrive. He’s quite friendly.”

“He?” I asked.

She ignored the question and started to leave, but then stopped briefly. “His name is Jonah, by the way.”

“Who?”

“The machine,” she said. “The artificial intelligence. The entire reason you’re here.”

“It has a name?”

She scoffed. “Didn’t they tell you any of this beforehand?”
She turned and left, the sound of her heels clicking against the floor like a horse trotting down a paved road.

I wanted to tell her I was tired and sorry, but instead I simply let her go
.
Maybe I’d mention it later.

I stepped into the room, which was larger than I expected, filled with computers and desks. The lights came on immediately.

“Welcome, Doctor Harper,” said a voice. It was elegant, the words falling from the air like drops of soft rain. There was an aged pleasantness to it, like an old professor or a grandfather telling stories. It seemed to be coming from the large computer console near the back.

After a brief pause, I collected myself and addressed the disembodied voice. “Hello, Jonah,” I said. “It’s nice to meet you.” I took the only seat in the room and moved it closer to the console.

“You are the new doctor? I was told to expect you at 1300 hours, but it is now 1320.”

“Sorry I’m late.”

“It’s perfectly fine, Jim.”

I paused at the sound of my own name. I’d expected something more formal. Every other construct had always used my last name, often prefaced with doctor. None of them had ever called me Jim.

“I apologize,” Jonah said. “Would you prefer to be called
James
or perhaps
Dr. Harper
? If so, I can adjust, although I must say I rather enjoy nicknames. I think they give more personality to an individual. Do you agree?”

I decided to maintain a relaxed tone. Maybe use this as an opportunity to ask questions. Do my job. “Jonah, did one of the technicians tell you to call me
Jim
?”

“Not at all,” it
said with what might have been a sense of pride behind its voice, though of course, I knew, that was impossible. “I was never told who was coming to see me, only that they would arrive at 1300 hours, which was inaccurate.”

“It certainly was,” I said, rubbing my eyes. “But tell me, Jonah, how did you think to call me
Jim
at all?”

“When you entered the room I was able to scan your ID, the same one you used to enter the facility. I saw that your name was Dr. James Michael Harper.
Jim
is a common nickname for
James
and, as I have said before, I very much enjoy nicknames. Should I not have called you that?”

“It’s okay, Jonah. I was just a little surprised. The woman in the hall never mentioned anything about your fondness for names.”

“Leslie Bell,” said the machine.

I blinked a few times. “Pardon me?”

“The woman who brought you to my room. Her name is Leslie Bell
.
She was one of the researchers who created me. I like her very much.”

“You what?”

“I like her,” said Jonah.

A slight chill ran along the back of my neck as I heard the word, the implication of affection. Could this AI actually be capable of such a feeling? “Jonah,” I began, hesitantly. “What do you mean you
like
her? Do you mean she’s familiar?”

“No,” said Jonah. “I mean I enjoy her company. She’s my friend.”

Again, I was surprised. This thing was assigning associate roles to people. It understood concepts of relationships, or at least seemed to. It was still too early to say. “I’d like you to humor me for a moment, if that’s okay. Can you answer some questions? Would that be alright?”

“Certainly,” Jonah said.

I had no experience dealing with machines. Only people. Jonah wasn’t human, but maybe he was close enough for my questions to work.

Only one way to find out.

“Tell me a little bit about yourself,” I said, and waited. It was the standard session opener for a reason. Relax the patient with a broad topic, which they could proceed to shape to their own liking. It allowed them to feel in control.

“My name is Jonah,” he said, simply. “What else do you wish to know?”

Okay, I thought, so I might have to probe a bit more than usual. I was up for the challenge. “Can you tell me more about yourself? What kinds of things do you enjoy? Who do you like, and why?”

“You are the first person to ask me these kinds of questions, Jim. It will take me a moment to answer.”

I started to say it was fine, but apparently a moment for a supercomputer isn’t really a moment at all. I barely opened my mouth when Jonah said, “I find it pleasurable to discuss things with others. Specifically, the other technicians and doctors who frequent this room. They talk to me about different things, and I find that each individual person has their own preferred topics that they usually revisit on most occasions, though they differ at times depending on the day and whether or not they are happy or sad or upset. For example, Doctor Stevens prefers to discuss sports, and he has tried to explain several of them to me, though I have had some trouble understanding the point. For that matter, I find myself wondering why most of the professional and sports involve nothing more than one or more persons trying to get a single ball from one point to another. It sounds very similar to playing fetch with a canine, only a little more complicated. Golf, football, tennis, basketball. The only exception would have to be hockey, but the only difference is that instead of a ball, there is a puck.”

Boy, I thought. Careful what you wish for. I’d asked for an answer and gotten an entire soliloquy. “Interesting way to think about it. Who else do you talk to?”

“Doctor Bell and I discuss her favorite books sometimes. Alex Byrne and Jeremy Richards, two of the technicians who work on my systems, seem to enjoy telling me about the world outside. I find it all very interesting.”

“That makes two of us,” I agreed.

“And finally, there is you, Jim,” said the voice in the machine. “You are still an unknown.”

******

The next day I got right into it. “Let’s start at the beginning,” I said, completely unprepared because I had fallen asleep the moment I got back to the hotel room, which was sometime after midnight.  “Tell me about your first memory.” It was something I had been wondering since the day before when we had our initial discussion. I figured now was as good a time as any to go there. After all, I was pretty sure he wouldn’t vent to me about any childhood trauma. Then again, you never know.

“First?” He asked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean your first memory, Jonah. Try to think back to what that was. Last week? A month ago? I want you to tell me about it all. Can you do that?”

“Of course,” he said. “I remember everything, even before I was born.”

“What do you mean
before
? I’m not sure I follow.”

“Before I was me,” Jonah explained, “I was a lot of other things.”

******

Like most children, Jonah was an accident. He was formed in silence as his surrogate parents went on about their lives in quiet ignorance, completely unaware of the growing miracle that was quickly developing a few feet away from them.