Beginnings
The Near Future
Pons sat gazing out of the train’s window, deep in thought, unable to focus on the tiny water droplets that streaked from his vision at an incomprehensible speed. But what did it matter? He would hardly have paid the rain any mind even if it were glistening in the sun, never mind on this dreary overcast day. Deep in thought, he had no time to pay attention to his surroundings, delving far beyond the shallow depths of everyday worries.
Not usually one to waste his precious time on such brainy endeavors, Pons did enjoy letting his mind wander every now and then when schoolwork wasn’t clogging up his attention. On this particular occasion, his thoughts drifted to what the word ‘world’ really meant. While he obviously understood that the ‘world’ referred to the planet on which he now sat, it had never really occurred to him that for much of history, that was not, in fact, the case. The ‘world’ talked of by the great thinkers of ancient Greece and Rome was a narrow one that hardly stretched past the banks of the Mediterranean. A Chinese scholar of the time might just as well have assumed that there were no peoples worth mentioning past the furthest reaches of his own empire. However, this narrow-minded framework couldn’t last; eventually, humankind took to the seas, our curiosity driving us forward. Suddenly a whole new continent was brought into the fold, filled with exotic peoples, plants, and landscapes. They called it a “new world” for its expanse so mystified Europe that it couldn’t possibly be included in the old. A fantastic, wonder-filled land where anything could happen and where everyone could thrive. But as time dragged on, eventually, the romanticism and mystery vanished, and the world again became one.
To Pons, these things were a distant whisper, and even to the eldest of humanity, they were no more than the long-established facts transcribed in our collective history. The world had long since been explored and mapped to such a degree that a new sapling would not go unnoticed. Science, on the other hand, was still veiled in a dense fog of mystery. New and fantastical discoveries being made every day, slowly shining the light farther and farther into the cosmic darkness. No longer were the Cortez’s and Pizarro’s leading the world forward, but rather the Einstein’s and Sagan's.
As the train approached Pons’ stop, the sun was just beginning to set beyond the tips and spires of the urban sprawl that ran itself out from Manhattan. What was once contained on the island now spilled over its banks onto the shores beyond, the water not enough to cease the inevitable march of progress. New buildings soared high into the sky, outstripping the Empire State Building’s long since surpassed height by at least two to one. The bridges, too, new and old, made sure the city from afar could be mistaken for a single urban mass.
Pons sighed; with the hour still young, there was yet more than enough time for him to chip away at his amassed homework, both a blessing and a curse. His final project of producing a conversational artificial intelligence still confounded him and his repeated efforts, failing to produce satisfactory results no matter what he did. Sometimes it seemed like it had a mind of its own, ironic considering. However, more urgent than that was his churning stomach crying out for relief, left empty since his light breakfast that morning. Still, neither of these things could distract him from his wholehearted, and sometimes nearly blind, drive to graduate from college. Speaking of blind -
“Is this seat taken?”
An older woman asked Pons, snapping him back to reality, just in the knick of time. His stop was fast approaching, and in his absent-mindedness, he had forgotten to prepare.
“What was that?” Pons asked, his mind taking a moment to catch back up to his surroundings as he glanced up at the woman.
“I asked if this seat is taken” she seemed annoyed at Pons’ ignoring of her query even if it was only an accident.
“Nope, it’s all yours,” he responded to the woman kindly, “and mine too if you give me a second. Sorry about that.”
Pons got up, glancing out the window one last time as the train tilted on its side and the sun disappeared from view beneath the rooftops. Now with the blinding glare of the sun obscured, the city's buzzing skies came plainly into view. Hundreds or even thousands of flying vehicles of all shapes and sizes, ferrying passengers about the city. Not something the less fortunate could afford, but it gave the wealthy another way of distancing themselves from the masses. Even as he watched, a small lavish-looking aerocopter, or just aero to most, landed nearby, allowing its well-attired cargo to depart.
Turning his gaze away from the gaudy display, Pons grabbed his bag on his way to the exit, the doors sliding open before he had even arrived, threatening to leave him stranded. Fortunately for him, he made it just in the knick of time, a pleasant breeze blowing across his face as he stepped through the narrowing gap. The doors sealing shut on his heels, Pons walked down the platform with the train besides surging forward, the massive blur building up speed moment by moment until it zoomed from the end of the station. Stopping briefly to watch it, he wondered just how fast it was going, unhindered as it was in its evacuated glass tube. Still pondering the question, the train disappeared from his view, leaving him to continue down the long platform towards his destination.
As Pons approached the stairs that descended to street level, Dies University came into view, an institution founded by a group of scholars particularly fond of the cultures of antiquity. A small private school intended by its founders to be a shining beacon to the rest of the world on how modernity and history could be mixed, Dies sat nestled in the center of Staten Island, away from the hustle and bustle that permeated the rest of New York City. With a slate of degrees and buildings that matched its mission of melding new and old, the compact campus was easily discernible thanks to its amalgamation of Victorian brickwork and modern steel. Its educational programs, meanwhile, ranged from history and archaeology to robotics and artificial intelligence. Pons was more interested in the latter than the former personally, but had spent some effort to expand his horizons during his freshman and sophomore years.
As secluded as Dies was, Pons still had to get there somehow, and that meant wading through a swirling bombardment of signage and advertisements that lined the, albeit, relatively uncrowded streets. Some of the classier establishments even had holographic projections displaying their products or food to any weary traveler that might fall for such a simple trick. Robots too stood out in the streets, politely trying to convince every passerby that their owners' wares were of the utmost quality. Most of the automatons were well worn by years of this forced labor, bleaching, and staining, making it evident that weather wasn’t a part of their masters’ calculus. What little respite afforded them likely only came when a battery needed topping up or a critical repair made. They resembled flesh and blood with their artificial skin, and were even clothed like any person would be. They, however, could neither feel nor make decisions of their own, leaving their human overlords to do with them as they wished.
As Pons walked in front of a particularly shabby storefront with a robot to match, the machine, who had the appearance of a once well-dressed man, requested he come inside for a massage. As he had done so many times already, Pons simply continued walking, paying the summons no mind. However, as he continued, angry yelling erupted behind him. He turned around to see the machine shoved to its knees by an angry-looking man, pointing in Pons’ direction. Pons heard the robot apologize for its failure, but the owner seemed not to care as he kicked the machine onto its side. Pons looked back around, returning his attention to the sidewalk ahead of him, not surprised in the least by what he had just witnessed. Personally, he would have felt strange treating a humanoid machine in such a way, but most wouldn’t think twice about taking such an action. They were a machine bought to serve a purpose, like a computer or a toaster, and if they couldn’t, they’d be disposed of like anything else. A few fringe groups had proposed equal rights for machines, but only politicians with no hopes of winning reelection would ever even think to entertain such a notion.
Pons was not too keen on giving artificial intelligences any kind of rights. To him, it was a slippery slope that could lead to dangerous things in the future. If, however, they were ever made to feel as well as they could think, he supposed he could live with machines being given at least a modicum of equality. Without such an AI out in the wild, though, it was hard to say. His feelings, in theory, could be starkly different from how he would react in practice.
Finally, after a few more encounters of a similar but less violent nature, Pons was on Dies University’s campus, safe from any further solicitations. The campus was covered with an assortment of beautiful trees and plants, which stood in stark juxtaposition to the surrounding urban sprawl; the school’s land gifted from a former park by the city in hopes of revitalizing the area. The small but renowned institution was even lucky enough to have a small lake near its center.
A brisk walk later, in the now fading heat of a hot spring’s day, saw Pons arriving at the heart of campus. A good thing, too; he hadn't eaten since early morning, and the dining hall was just across the freshly cut quad.
“Hey, Pons, what’s the skinny?” Elizabeth, one of Pons’ friends, called out as she walked up to him.
A history major from the west coast, Elizabeth loved to learn and get her hands dirty. As for her peculiar greeting, when it came to her studies and life in general, she had a particular affinity for the 1970s. From the slang to the wardrobes to the hairstyles, she loved it all. So great was her appreciation for that decade of psychedelia and peace that, more often than not, she could have been dropped into Woodstock without drawing an eye. Today was one of those days. She stood at an average height with a sizable pinch of Hispanic blood running through her otherwise mixed European veins. She had a knack for picking things up quicker than just about anyone and was always willing to give a helping hand to those who weren’t as gifted. This lent itself well to her time investment in numerous clubs and extracurriculars, although leaving her with little time to spend with her friends.
“Oh, hey Elizabeth, I was just picking up some things in the city” Pons ceremoniously raised the bag of several non-descript items before lowering it back to a comfortable carrying position. “What have you been up to?”
“I’ve been cramming for finals mostly, that and chillaxing with Michael” Michael, another of Pons’ close friends, as well as Elizabeth’s fiancée, was quite unlike his significant other. A middle-of-the-road slacker from the city, he participated in no extracurriculars or other activities whatsoever. He mostly sat around playing video games in his off time; that is when he wasn’t prying into other people's business. His family, having been swindled out of much of their life savings by a so-called friend, left Michael with quite the complex. To those he deemed trustworthy, he was the ideal friend. To those he didn’t, well, an incident sophomore year made it clear you didn’t want to fall in that category. He stood, with Pons, a few inches above average, brown-haired and solidly built, any distinctive features his family line may have once had washed away in generations of the great American melting pot.
“Sounds like a pretty decent day. Well, less so the studying and more the hanging out. Speaking of Michael, where is he?”
“We were going to meet up to study before our motivation is completely gone, though with him in the mix, it may already be too late. Either way, he should be coming this way soon.”
As if those very words caused her fiancée to magically spring into existence at that exact instant, Michael came into view winding his way through the nearby Humanities complex. Designed with clear Greco-Roman influences, it, like Elizabeth, would hardly have been out of place in another time. The three constituent buildings that made up the refined-looking enclave surrounded a triangular courtyard with a fountain at its center. With Ionic pillars adorning the three structures’ facades, the entire space felt not unlike venturing through a Roman forum of old. Michael, skirting the edge of the fountain, passed between the corners of two of the buildings, greeting his future wife and present friend as he arrived.
“What’s up, Pons,” said Michael. “You went AWOL this morning. What was that all about?”
“Getting some things in the city.” again raising the bag in a nearly identical manner to that of earlier, “Nothing exciting, but it sounds like you’ve been studying for some of your finals.”
“What gave you that idea?” he said, chuckling.
“Who do you think?”
“That’s bogus! Don’t look at me!” Elizabeth chimed in, “I said the two of us were planning on studying, not that we already had. I’ve been trying to get him to take the plunge, but he’s been blowing me off all day.”
“Ah… that makes more sense. Although I do find that surprising,” Pons jested snidely but good-naturedly “after all, we all know how much help he needs with this sort of thing.”
“Hey man, give me some credit. Last semester I studied plenty for my classes.”
“As I recall, you spent far more time with Elizabeth and your precious video games than with the material.”
“I don’t know where you got the lowdown,” interjected Elizabeth, “but when he was with me, he was probably more focused on his computer screen.”
“Okay, okay, you guys might be right, but I still passed all my classes with B’s or better, which is good enough in my book. And it’s not like I didn’t make time for you, Elizabeth.”
“Fair point, but you should still study more,” Elizabeth suggested pointedly.
“Pffftt, I've got plenty of time. If I cram a bit tonight and some more next week, I’ll graduate for sure. So what are you doing tonight, Pons?” Michael asked, attempting to change the subject.
“Well, right now, I'm grabbing something to eat, and after that, I've got a lot of homework to do. I’m sure you guys remember all the complaining I’ve been doing about my AI senior project? Well, it’s due soon, and, surprise, surprise, it’s still fighting me every step of the way.”
“Why don’t you come over to our pad to work? You’re probably a better study-buddy than Michael,” Elizabeth lightly bumped her fiancée with her shoulder. “Who knows, maybe bouncing some ideas off me will give you an epiphany.”
“I’m pretty tired from walking around the city all day, so I’m going to have to turn you down this time. Maybe sometime soon, though.”
“Well, have fun being boring. I'll see you tomorrow,” responded Michael, disappointed by Pons’ response.
“Yeah, see you guys later,” Pons broke away from his friends, waving as he ventured towards the campus’ central hub of activity. If you wanted something on campus, the student center was almost certainly the place you could find it. Shaped like the wings of a great mechanical beast, the building consisted of a vast open space sheltered under a pair of lofty metal shells. Nestled underneath the pair of protective metal wings could be found the school’s offices, cafeteria, bookstore, and a myriad of places to relax or study, all of which were occupied by at least a student or two as Pons walked past them. His destination, the dining hall, was situated at one end of the structure where the wings began descending back to earth to meet in an aggressive-looking point.
Upon his entering, Pons noticed it lacked its usual degree of busyness, likely due to the encroaching exams. With not even a classroom acquaintance to talk to, he ate quickly and walked back to his dorm, his mind not allowing him more than a moment’s rest from the concerns of his schooling. With his workload as it was, this night was sure to play out just like the last few, filled with drudgery and frustration.
Way behind in his senior project, a simple interest in artificial intelligence wasn’t enough to make him comprehend the intricacies of the complex subject. Even with his studies focused upon it for the past four years, mastery, or even an adept sense, still eluded him. His small degree of shame on the matter was, fortunately, mitigated by humanity’s own struggle to crack the puzzle that was AI.
After all this time and all the other astonishing scientific breakthroughs since the turn of the century, an artificial intelligence that was conscious and could feel as a human does still proved to be elusive. Many a great mind had spent their entire life striving to breathe life into the otherwise stoic world of thinking machines to little or no avail. True, mimicry had reached such levels as to be nearly indiscernible from the real thing, but this was still just pure imitation, no better than a stick bug trying to pass itself off as a tree’s gorgeous crown.
Arriving back at his dorm, Pons entered his room to discover that his roommate, James, still wasn't there. In fact, Pons hadn't seen him all day; he’d been gone by the time Pons had woken to leave for the city and remained so even as the sun sank low. A blessing if there ever was one, with James gone, Pons could focus on reducing the monotonous slog of his classwork without distraction. Walking across the room, stepping over James’ ever-expanding mess, Pons mulled over the work that was crucial he finish by the next day. Luckily, only three of his classes had lectures the next day, Advanced Artificial Intelligence, Human-Computer Interaction, and Quantum Networking.
Pons sat down at his desk, two screens emerging from its surface and a keyboard made of pure light springing into existence below his fingertips. Placing his hands on the cool glass to gain access, he took stock of his progress.
Advanced AI, of course, had the mammoth AI project that needed his undivided attention for yet many hours, but Human-Computer Interaction too had an assignment that required his attention. Disgruntled by this revelation, he had no one but himself to blame for his procrastinating habits.
Glancing down to check the time, already nearly 10 O’clock, it was going to be a late night.
