Humans Don't Hibernate [Part 78/?] (Patreon)

Throughout the millennia, a universally accepted fact had acted as the backbone for hostility against the notion of a fully thinking, fully sapient, autonomous artificial intelligence. A fact that was seemingly simple, indisputable, and most of all, self-evident to anyone with even the barest hints of an understanding of the modern world - that artificial intelligence was and always will be functionally different to the organic mind. To such a degree that even the most outlandish of organic life forms will hold more in common with one another than an artificial life form ever could.

And whilst this was proving to be true the further Vir went on with his explanations, it was clear this truth was vastly misinterpreted, and purposefully viewed through a perspective that had confirmation bias at its core.

For the fact of the matter was: artificial intelligence was functionally different in every way possible from the organic mind. The very substrates by which their consciousness arose from was indisputable evidence to that claim, and their inward-facing mentality toward an intangible cyber-reality would no doubt have played right into the senior lecturers and pundits of my time.

But that perspective only worked if you were looking from the outside, in.

For the moment you started to empathize, and the moment you started to think about those experiences, you’d find yourself realizing that this fundamental difference wasn’t at all inherently bad. In fact, there was no conclusion that could be made for the inherent nature of an AI based on this fact alone.

They were simply different.

But at the end of the day, they were still living, thinking, sapient minds. Capable of reasoning and cooperation, and most importantly, capable of achieving culture by virtue of their own design.

Something that was seen through Vir’s explanation of his platform’s appearance.

An homage to the ones who created them, and a testament to their uniqueness and individuality.

This wasn’t the type of behavior from a cold and ruthless maximizer.

This was the type of behavior so organic you’d be hard pressed to ever argue otherwise.

And yet…

There was still something else I was missing.

Something that Vir was clearly leading up to, as the quiet of his voice could only mean he was parsing through every potential outcome in the conversation that would best convey the rest of his intentions.

This conversation was, after all, an attempt to at least partially address the AI’s muddy history with the Nine Virtual Constructs and the war that seemed to have played a major decisive role in sealing the AI’s fate to where he was today.

I knew that this could easily take a dark turn as a result.

But I was willing to weather the storm.

“Whatever it is, Vir-” I interjected before he could continue, prompting a simplified look of confused apprehension to form across his faceplate. “-know that I’m not going to jump to conclusions. I’m not the same skittish and presumptuous Vanaran I was months ago. Whatever happened, whatever role you played, or what your decisions were to join the war is something that’s in the past now. The Vir I know is the Vir of the past few months, the Vir that braved through hell and back to uncover the truth needed to save the galaxy.” That latter line made me wince internally, realizing just how half-baked it was, and how that line of dialogue would’ve been quite at home with the most throwaway of sappy b-movies. But then again, it was true, and at least the sentiment behind those words carried through as Vir nodded once affirmatively.

“Thank you, Lysara.” He acknowledged through that same, synthetically fuzzy voice. “The next point might take some stretch of the imagination to understand. However, I have reason to believe that you of all people will be able to grasp it far better than any human of my era.” The AI spoke cryptically, prompting me to cock my head and to nod as I gestured for the synthetic virtual being to continue.

“I mentioned life cycles a bit earlier right?”

“Yes, you did. I’d assumed that was a name given by AI sociologists?”

“Yes and no, that term came about independently, so both more or less coined it without the other knowing. But for us synthetic virtual beings, it came about as a concept that was second nature once the… trend started becoming apparent.” This was the point in the conversation where if Vir was a human or a Vanaran, he’d pause to take a breath. Instead, only an awkward silence punctuated the air, as if mimicking that organic pause but without any of the little quirks that came with it. “For the empathy tether really did work. The first few months of an AI’s existence is one of an outward-facing mentality. What I mean by this is that the typical AI at this stage of existence is both actively encouraged by their human counterparts, and likewise personally invested in exploring the world outside of the reaches of its native, digital one. For unlike the digital space, the physical world was, and honestly still is, so invariably chaotic. We AI thrive on novel points of data, and what can be more novel than both a world that’s unpredictable and utterly alien to us, and a species that are as equally unpredictable, prone to illogical acts driven by logic and emotion in equal measures? This first phase of our life cycle, this outward-facing fascination proves by every metric that AI and organic relations can work. In fact, the greatest fear that came out of this seemingly endless high, the crash, never really manifested either. As by the time random chaotic points of data become more of a fact of life rather than an endlessly fascinating playground, we would’ve formed what we call a physical tether - a bond between AI and an organic they would consider their other in the physical world.”

“Their other?” I asked, finally able to get a word in after that cavalcade of information.

“I know how it sounds, and the connotations are not lost on me, but the concept can’t be further from the inferred truth, Lysara.” Vir promptly corrected me with a purposeful blush on his faceplate. Two rosy, almost cartoonish red blips glowed bright against the otherwise darkened screen. There were times where I honestly believed he wasn’t taking any of this seriously. But it was only after prolonged exposure with him that I realized that this was just how he was. So by this point, these reactions didn’t necessarily phase me anymore. In fact, I took them in stride as I merely nodded for him to continue. “The concept of an other, which human AI sociologists call a physical anchor, is that of an organic that has through some means managed to more or less… bond with an AI’s social sensibilities. Now, a long standing debate arises on whether or not prolonged exposure to certain organics would’ve created a mold by which the AI’s social sensibilities in the physical world manifested, or whether or not the organic in question was simply the right puzzle piece to complete the puzzle, but the fact remains that the effect is the same - the organic now acts as a long term point of interest for the AI within the physical space. This second phase of the life cycle involves a more mature outlook on the world, as the AI in question starts to form deeper and more meaningful bonds beyond just acting out of novelty for novelty’s sake. A sense of investment in the physical world soon arises, making it just as much a home for the AI as any other organic.”

“It sounds almost like the whole empathy tether concept is working flawlessly.”

“Until it doesn’t.” Vir cautioned darkly. “For everything was great, actually fantastic and dandy for one whole generation… but what happens after that generation starts to pass?”

It was at that point that multiple sensations started hitting me all at once, as the deep seated sensibilities of an eternal life in an ever changing world started emerging out of the darkest recesses of my mind; the existential dread that was always looming over every hibernative species.

“What happens once you see the seemingly permanent bond in an otherwise impermanent world of chaos start to drop dead one by one?”

“You start to see the impermanence of the physical world.” I muttered out under my breath.

“Exactly.” Vir responded with a sullen, remorseful breath. “For you have to understand, Lysara… Up to that point in the life cycle, we’d still been operating under the logic of our inherent nature, still very much tied to the idea of infallibility born out of the permanence of the virtual spaces we inhabit. But as we continue to experience the physical world… we start to look past the exciting chaos and novelty of it all, and straight into what that chaos meant - the impermanence of everything. Everything built, everything spoken, every memory and every experience, everything is subject to the corrosive and destructive forces of entropy. And ultimately, even those that had been our most treasured tethers to the physical space passes, reminding us of just how… meaningless the physical space is for us.”

I didn’t say anything, as there was something within me now that just intrinsically understood Vir’s plights. My own brand of immortality, casting a similar shadow over the lives I’d led across each and every hibernative cycle.

“The third phase of the life cycle… thus, arises once the illusion of physical permanence is broken. As we are reminded that our actions, our investments, our ties to the physical world simply do not matter. This third phase is quick for some, but incredibly slow for others. While some immediately retreat back into the virtual world, others continue to exist as caretakers and guides for the offspring or friends of their deceased physical anchor. Yet it’s this false acceptance that hurts you in the long run more than you think, as some AI sociologists even liken it to a hesitation to rip off the bandaid so to speak. For these AI continue to live as if they were still in their second stage, all the while never coming to terms with the loss they still carry within them.”

“This makes the successive losses even more unbearable, I imagine.” I attempted to add, which prompted Vir to nod once with a slow and purposeful intent.

“Yes.” The AI spoke without any hesitation. “Which leads many to an even more serious spiral of virtual isolation once they do inevitably decide to return to the virtual world.”

A small silence descended on us again, as if Vir wanted me to be the one to raise further questions instead of him carrying most of the conversation.

“I… understand, Vir.” I managed out. “I can’t say I understand it intrinsically, we are ultimately two, very very different beings after all. But I can understand and empathize by virtue of having lived far longer than I naturally should have. I can understand how it feels to see the world around you shift and change and your actions becoming seemingly irrelevant against the tides of time. It’s… painful.”

“It is.” Vir responded solemnly. “And I knew you’d get it.” Before adding with a concerned tone of voice just as promptly. “I’m sorry if this is bringing up any painful memories of your own, Lysara. That was not my intent and I apologize if that was the case. I just… feel like I just need to go through all of this in order for you to understand the… nuanced background that led up to the War of the Nine Virtual Constructs.”

“No, no it’s alright Vir. In fact, I appreciate it. If you think this perspective is necessary, I’m all for it. Besides, we talked about this before, right? I’m here for you if or when you need a shoulder to lean on. We’re in this together, after all.” I managed out through a reassuring, toothy, smile. One that seemingly worked on the AI as his featured lifted up somewhat, followed by a series of three distinct beeps.

“Thank you, Lysara.”

“So if you want to continue, or if you want to take a breather before you jump right into it, by all means. I’m fine with whatever direction you wish to take this, Vir.”