For the less-than-elderly whippersnappers amongst us. Art!
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| Nasty skin infection you've got there, mate |
It's a mangled translation into English of the original Japanese, and should read "All your bases belong to us", from a game called "Zero Wing", which implies either missiles or vintage Second Unpleasantness Japanese aircraft.
ANYWAY I bring this up because I was struck by a sideline article on the BBC's News page, written by Laura Kuenssberg, about Artificial Intelligence, and the potential risk it poses to Hom. Sap.
This is something of a subset of the Robot Revolution, and we all know the poster-child for that. Art!
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| CAUTION! Not powered by hamsters |
Laura mentioned a recent paper calling for a global pause into AI research, because it carries such profound risks for the human race, signed by over 1,000 scientists. Good luck with that. You can bet the Ruffians will nod their heads and suck their teeth, and then completely ignore everyone and go their own way, because AI has the potential to generate immense amounts of money, which is another reason why politicians are reluctant to impose checks or a moratorium. Art!
One especially worrying aspect is that of 'machine learning', where an AI will use it's experience to formulate winning strategies - without any human input. At what point do you pull the plug on an AI machine developing a means to become independent of human control? Ooops, too late, it's created it's own internal power source and you can't switch it off. O, now it's built legs and is off down the garden path. You run after it with a lump hammer and discover it's got both a dart-thrower and a laser ...
Yes, that's fanciful. But an AI-enabled machine that becomes self-aware is going to take steps to protect itself. Moreover, it might well come to the conclusion that Hom. Sap. presents it with an existential threat and this needs addressing. Getting rid of Hom. Sap. solves the problem. Say hello to -
As a machine entity, Skynet doesn't need food, water, air, sleep or companionship, just a source of power.
Yesteryon I was banging on about the Krell creating millions of super-Robby robots to carry out their construction work on the Great Machine. If the Krell were at all forward-thinking, they'd make sure these robots weren't excessively clever, or networked, so there'd be no possibility of creating better and better versions of themselves nor of becoming aware of their status as expendable slave labour. Art!
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| "THE BOOT IS ON THE OTHER FOOT NOW, HUMANS!" |
Less dramatically, AI will be most definitely used to automate basic tasks that are currently done by squishy humans, because once again 'doesn't need food, water, air, sleep or companionship' and won't have union membership, either. Say hello to your Legal Algorithm, Admin Assist or Tax AIccountant. Heck, imagine a self-driving tractor that can plough, harrow or silage on it's own, choosing the right equipment for the job and doing it day in, day out, only stopping to plug into the mains and charge up. Then, after 18 months, another AI comes up with a design for a tractor battery that only requires charging once per quarter. Art!
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| The thin end of the wedge, I tell you, the thin end of the wedge! |
Inevitably, the military will get involved, and you'll have fleets of killer robots armed to the teeth, driven by AI, because, once again 'doesn't need food, water, air, sleep or companionship' nor does it have morale problems or feel pain or fear. With the proviso that there will be human supervision, able to use a Self-Destruct button to eliminate any robot going rogue. Unless, of course, the killer robots conspire to foil any such failsafe. In which case you get - Art!
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| "Hello. AGAIN." |
There's a cautionary short sci-fi story that deals with the arrival of a super-sentient AI, perhaps by Frederick Brown? The technician who solders the last circuit into place is allowed the privilege of asking the first question to said SSAI, so of course he asks: Is there a God?
"There is NOW!" replies the SSAI, blasting him to ashes with a thunderbolt when he tries to undo that last solder.
So you can see where this evening's title comes from.
What interesting times we live in!
A Short Aside
Your Humble Scribe dragged a box of DVDs out of the cupboard in order to get a few screenshots from the 1960 film "The Time Machine", and I note that "Things To Come" is also in the box. I didn't really manage to convey how utterly outdated their ideas of aircraft were, so I think a complete re-watch with a judiciously-selected bunch of screenshots is in order. Art!
Give it 13 more years and we can tell you verbatim, matey.
A Kind Of Longer Shorter
Yes, we're still riffing on "Tora! Tora! Tora!" because I took the photos, so you're going to have to sit through them whilst I explicate. Art!
This is the scene where the replica P-40 Warhawk collides with stationary fibreglass mock-ups, and you can just see it's propeller flying along the tarmac. We've already covered this event. The director, Richard Fleischer, was a canny chap and filmed the scene from three different positions, so he could cut it into the film later and give the impression of a different but just as devastating event.
"The Sea Of Sand"
The Doctor is at risk of being sliced apart and crushed simultaneously, at the Place Of Executions. Never one to do things by halves, is he?
Gingerly, he stood up, seeing
that his restraints of glass had impacted against the rim of the worn metal
scoop, and shattered under the weight of the column hitting them at speed.
The
heavily worn and pitted interior of the
scoop smelt of hot metal, odd mineral tangs and dust. As the Doctor moved inside it, the scoop
rocked slightly, making grating noises that echoed a little.
Stepping
outside, keeping to the cover of the giant Sieve, the Doctor peered carefully
round a curving shoulder of metal at the amphitheatre. Ranks of empty tiered seating, with a path of
shattered stones and slabs leading down from the edge of the basin to his very
feet. That crumpled purple smear on the
granite flooring must be Lord Excellency Url …
Escaping from the amphitheatre was an anticlimax; there were no bio-vores present, and when the Time Lord reached level ground, no living thing in sight. Presumably his erstwhile captors considered him to be definitely dead, not worth bothering about in a search.
He
never could be sure whether the bio-vores had propelled their indiscriminate
missile at Url, to kill the aristocrat, or at The Doctor, to free him.
Whatever
their intent, he faced a long hike back to the grey granite complex at the
shoreline, where the TARDIS still stood.
Down The Rabbit-Hole's Rabbit-Hole
Once again, Conrad is unsure how, exactly, he came across the Youtube channel of 'Robothut'. Probably because I was Googling for 'Robby the Robot'.
Robothut himself is one of those male hoarders who has to have a separate structure to house all his shizzle, and he has quite some shizzle. Art!
It looks like a shop, doesn't it? WRONG! This is his shed, and all those items are his. A lot are scratch-built by himself, as he is obviously pretty gifted at making stuff.
And yes, that's a full-size replica of the Jeep from "Forbidden Planet". Our hero got hold of a set of plans and seems to have 3D printed the parts before taking it for a test drive. Art!
RH said it was very difficult to drive in real life, because Robby blocked his view of the road, and he ended up hitting a mailbox. It was safer with two people sitting in it, because then they could see ahead properly. Salute you, sir!
The link, should you need it.
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