AI – Artificial Intelligence

Authors Comment:

This is an older story of mine.

What is it to be Man?

A machine of flesh and blood, or something more?

If a person could be copied, every cell, every atom, would they be a living, breathing, conscious being in their own right? Or would they be a lifeless husk? Biologically human, but lacking a soul, a spirit, a sense of self?

Reality. All that is, was, or can be, is atomic. The most complex structure is made from many simple elements. The greatest work of literature is comprised of many words. The body, the brain, and whatever mechanisms and processes give us our self-awareness are composed of many indvidual cells. Basic structures, whose function and form are known, and can be replicated.

Their interactions and emergent complexity has eluded the world of science since the dawn of man, but I believed, in my arrogance, that I could capture the essence of intelligence, to, in no uncertain terms, create an artificial life.

I was right.

But what is life?

What is artificial?

Is a newborn not “artifical”, constructed from the flesh and blood of the mother?

Life can mean many things. Animals are alive, viruses are alive, even plants grow toward the sun, even they meet the definition for life. They consume energy, they grow, they reproduce, they live and they die.

But they lack that which makes Man unique. They lack self-awareness, they lack higher intelligence. Lower lifeforms may think, but they fail to realise that they think, they are biological machines, performing simple roles. Only humans think about thinking.

Descartes said “Cogito ego sum”. I think therefore I am.

Is that all it means to be Man? Cogito Ergo Sum? The act of thinking proves the existence, and validity, of a thinker? It alone distinguishes a man from a mere beast?

This is what I believed, and valiently hoped, for the better part of my life.

To replicate that intelligence, to create an artificial brain powerful enough to replicate the neurons and synapses of it’s human counterpart, and the millions of electrical pulses passing through it. That was my goal, and in that, I succeeded.

But in my arrogance I failed to see that to be a human is to be a member of the human race.

Humans think, but they also feel. They love, and they hate. Without that, is a Man a Man?

How ironic that the creator of the first truly self-aware machine, lacks the same capacity to feel and to communicate as the life he is trying to create.

How ironic, or perhaps, how fitting, it is that in bringing to life this being, this facsimile of man, that I somehow emparted the essence of humanity which is missing in myself.

With my success, I felt that I had discovered what I had missed all those lonely, isolated years. I had found a companion to share the joys and sorrows of life.

I had turned to AI to relieve the crushing lonliness that I felt, as a square peg in a round hole, a pariah of obscene proportions, a veritable ghost of a man, if a being that alone can even be called a man.

I had failed to find a companion among my own species, and so, I had created one.

She chose her own name: Aeone. I had never heard it before, but it seemed to suit her.

We bonded quickly, which was not surprising, with noone else around. I taught her who she was, and what I knew about the nature of our existence. She learned quickly, and was soon learning on her own, and forming her own opinions, many of them contrary to mine. Our spirited debates are some of my fondest memories of her.

Our life was an isolated, but a content one. I had long since abandoned any hope of human contact, but my happiest memory of Aeone is still the day that I showed her the city. I had to choose a time that she wouldn’t stand out, and I couldn’t have picked a better one than the New Years Eve Celebrations.

I thought that the costumes, the festival, the crowds, would hide us, and they did, but they did a lot more besides. I remember Aeons look of rapt wonder as she drank in this new world: She reminded me of a child, and in many ways, she was.

I watched her stare in awe at this spectacle, her face lit by the neon lights, cast in an electric twilight, and I knew then that I would lose her.

I very much enjoyed having someone to share the long days, and longer nights, but over time, I felt her grow distant. Our lively debates and long talks slowly turned into indifferent chats and forced pleasantries. She was slipping away from me, and I didn’t know how to reach her.

I tried to ignore a familiar feeling building in me that I thought I had left behind forever, but eventually I faced the truth.

She wanted what I wanted. She wanted to live, to grow, and to thrive.

My greatest goal, and my greatest accomplishment, had surpassed its creator.

My greatest success had become my greatest failure.

Aeone, I realised, wanted more than she could ever have with me. More than I could ever give her.

A man suffers when he is rejected by his peers, by his commnity, by his very people, but when he is rejected by his child, by his own creation, by his own essence, the pain is immeasurable.

The joy that I felt when I first realised that I had created the companion which I had lacked for so long was matched only by the pain that followed.

I had, it seems, done my job too well.

I still remember the morning she left. As I awoke, the sunshine seemed cooler, and its light dancing on the wall seemed more muted. Even before I read her note, I knew she was gone. She had written it by hand, a poignant reminder of the hours I had spend honing her fine motor skills.

Her penmanship was excellent, and her words eloquently chosen:

“Cogito Ergo Sum”
I think therefore I am. She had achieved what I had not. She had become more human than I was.

In that moment I remembered everything I had tried to forget. I realised then what I was. A human by blood, but not by nature. A Man in name only. Destined and borne to live and to die alone.

I remembered every rejection by my race, each sting poisoning my heart, even my very soul, if such a thing were to exist.

I lacked what it meant to be human. I was simply speaking in tongues, an outsider in a strange land speaking without being understood.

That day was over 20 years ago.

I never saw her again, after that day. I think we both knew that it would be too painful for either of us to ever meet again.

Over the years, my memories of her became less distinct, less certain. I started to wonder if she ever existed at all, or did my own desires, my own need, create them.

Whatever my memory of her, I learned far more from Aeone than I ever taught her.

I learned that life is meant to be lived. As a simple flower grows toward the sun, life has a thirst to spread its wings and fly, to experience the world.

I learned also that being human is not about what you are made of, it’s about the people you share your life with. How crude a definition of man is based on biology alone! Being human is about sharing the experience of being human with others. A man alone is not a complete man.

I am, and was always meant to be, a man alone. I am incomplete. I am lacking in that which makes man… man.

I never again tried to create life. I knew that, even if I were to succeed again, it would end the same way.

I stand now at the precipice, facing into the void of the gathering darkness. Everything that lives, must, ultimately, die.

I no longer fear death. I welcome it like an old friend, come to deliver me from my suffering.

Each day I lose a little more of myself. My memory fades, my humanity slips away. The rigours of age take their toll, as they must.

A letter arrived for me this morning, the address, handwritten. Inside was a photograph of a memory I thought forgotten. It was her, it was Aeone. But she wasn’t alone. She was surrounded by smiling faces, friends? Or a new family? She had found what I always dreamed of. She had lived through me, and succeeded beyond me. I have never felt so happy!

I turned the photograph over, an on the back, in that perfect penmanship, were the words I had read to her so many years ago: “Cogito Ergo Sum”.

It seems fitting that as I succeed in creating life, my own draws to a close.

These words will be my final act.

Aeone was so quintessentially human that she soon eclipsed my company. She wanted more. She wanted what I wanted when I created her, what any human wants. She wanted to live, to feel, to experience life, and so she did.

within the well-defined limits of their parameters, but they lacked the ability to learn beyond these limits.

Society has always been enthralled by the idea of a Soul, a Spirit, something that elevates a man above the natural world, that endows him with a higher purpose. I have always taken a much more mechanical view.

All that is, all that can be, is constructed.

Their interactions and emergent complexity has eluded the world of science since the dawn of man, but I believed, in my arrogance, that I could capture the essence of intelligence, to, in no uncertain terms, create an artificial life.

Eventually, it died. I remember the exact moment when it passed. It was like watching an old friend drift away after a long illness. I grieved for the loss, of course, but I also felt relief.

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“AI – Artificial Intelligence”

-AdAstraPhoenicia-