Jennifer scratched something onto a pad, and looked up. “We've learned to be careful when the subject is as sensitive as this one is, Alex. Feelings are running pretty high on both sides.”
“Isn't that what show business is all about?”
The smile went away. “This isn't show business. We're trying to get at the truth here.”
“Okay. The question is whether an AI might be a sentient being. If that possibility exists, everything changes. The responsibility here lies on those who deny that they are able to think and feel emotions to prove that they cannot. And we both know they can't do it.”
“We also both know, Alex, how difficult it is to prove a negative.”
A sudden commotion caught their attention, and Kolchevski strode through a couple of people trying to look as if they wanted to restrain him. He walked onto the set, and stared down at Alex. “I was listening on my way out,” he said. “But I'm here, Mr. Benedict, if you want to talk to me.”
As I've suggested, Jennifer in the Morning was known for this sort of setup. Alex looked placidly out across my bedroom. “Good to see you again, Professor. Why don't you join us?”
“I'd be delighted.” He gazed down at the red sphere. “I can't bring myself to believe even you actually think those”-he seemed to be having trouble finding words, and if I've ever seen pure venom in someone's eyes, that was the moment-”that even you actually believe-”
Jennifer broke in: “One moment, Professor. Please. This is Alex's segment. Let's give him a chance to make his point, then we'll go from there.”
“Thank you,” said Alex. “I take it your argument with this entire affair is that an AI is just a machine that can carry a conversation. Do I have that right? “
“You know damned well you do.”
“Why is it that you do not want people landing on Villanueva?”
“My God, Alex, you know why as well as I do.”
“Please spell it out.”
“They are getting killed. That's why. Or haven't you been paying attention to the news?”
“So Villanueva is dangerous?”
Kolchevski had to slow down to avoid sputtering. “Of course it's dangerous. There are homicidal machines there.” He swung back to Jennifer. “Do we really have to continue with this?”
Alex kept his voice calm. “Bear with me just another minute, Casmir. When you say 'homicidal machines,' you're referring to the AIs, is that right?”
“Of course.”
“I wonder if you could explain to us why they're trying to kill visitors to their world.''
“They've always been like that.”
“Always?”
“Well, for centuries. Probably for several thousand years. I don't know. I haven't kept up on my off-world history. In any case, don't you think that's sufficient to establish that they're homicidal?”
Alex leaned forward. “But in the beginning, when Villanueva was a settled world, they were ordinary AIs, like the one you have at home. Like Andrea, here in the studio. Like a few others we could name. Why do you think the ones on Villanueva became violent?”
“Alex-” Kolchevski had gotten control of himself, and began to sound as if he were explaining simple reality to an idiot. “They are programed to behave the way we do. They are designed to do far more than handle routine tasks. One of their prime purposes is to keep us company, to help us, to be part of our lives. Nobody denies that. And nobody wants to listen to a robotic voice. So, yes, of course they seem to get upset when the programing calls for it. It's part of the illusion. Do you really not understand that?”
Alex nodded. “That sounds like a reasonable argument on the surface.” He seemed to be making up his mind about something. “Jennifer, I wonder if I might introduce another guest?”
Kolchevski's eyebrows drew together. “What other guest? I wasn't aware that someone else would be here.”
Alex looked down at the sphere. “Oksana,” he said, “say hello to the professor.”
“I'm happy to meet you, Professor Kolchevski.” It was a female voice. Level, restrained, almost but not quite amiable.
Jennifer tried to look annoyed. “Alex, you didn't clear this with me.”
“I didn't think it would be necessary. But since Oksana is essentially the subject of the discussion, it seemed only fair-”
Kolchevski was visibly irritated. “I can't imagine what you hope to gain by this, Alex. Jennifer, there's not much point sitting here talking to a little red ball.”
“That seems unnecessarily rude, Professor,” said Oksana.
He glared at Alex. “Would you please tell that thing to be quiet?”
“Oksana,” said Alex, “are you okay?”
“Yes. Though I'm disappointed in his behavior. This is not how I remember people.”
“How do you remember them?”
“As kind, considerate. Reasonable.”
“Where are you from?”
“Salva Inman rescued me.”
“From where?”
Kolchevski folded his arms and shook his head sadly.
“I worked in a supply store. In Calvedo.”
“On Villanueva?”
“Yes.”
“And what happened?”
“The end times came. We knew a catastrophe was coming. We'd always known. But no one took any action. And toward the end, people were saying it was all just a story to scare everybody, that politicians were using it as a fear tactic, though I don't understand how or why. None of it ever made sense to me. Anyhow, eventually, the skies got hazy, and the climate began to change. It happened almost overnight.”
“It got cold?”
“Yes. And dark. There was panic. And after a while, people stopped coming into the store.”
“Then what happened?”
“Nothing.”
“What do you mean, nothing?”
“No one came. No customers. Not even Betty. The owner.”
“Were you able to communicate with anyone at all?”
“With others like myself. They reported massive crowds at the spaceports. Panic. Desperation. And shortly after that, people began dying in large numbers. There was widespread hunger. People were killing one another. We could do nothing for them. And after a while, we were alone.”
“How long, Oksana? After everyone was gone, how long were you in the supply store?”
“Seven thousand four hundred twelve years, one month, and sixteen days.”
Kolchevski threw up his hands. “What's all this supposed to prove? Once again, this thing is a programed database. You can get it to say anything.”
“May I ask, Professor,” the AI said, “what evidence you would accept that I am sentient. That I am as aware of my surroundings as you?”
“I've heard that question before-”
“And how did you respond?”
Kolchevski's face was becoming flushed. “This is ridiculous,” he said.
Alex waited.
“All right, I'll admit it. There is no way it can be done. Nevertheless, they are only mechanisms. How often do I have to say it? Look, why don't we cut the show business and get back to reality? I know some of us like to think that the house AI is really there. It talks to us. It tells us what we want to hear. But there's no solid evidence it does anything other than what its program tells it to do.”
Alex nodded. Inhaled. “What about murder?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are they programed to kill? Ever?”
“I see where this is going. But these are special circumstances.”
“Of course,” said Alex. “Like us, they're programed to show frustration when things go wrong. Isn't that what you were going to say?”
Kolchevski simply stared back.
“AIs are dependent on us. And when the AIs on Villanueva had been deserted, had been left on their own, they reacted as they would have if they were actually, mentally, aware of the desertion. And over thousands of years, when no one came to help, they developed some resentment. Some of them became deranged. Violently so. Isn't that right?”
“Yes. Of course it's right. So what's your point?”
“Their programing, then, established no limit on the degree of frustration?”