[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
combines them into fewer and fewer discrete signals. In the end, we get a
sense datum called an image. But we interpret that image out of an enormous
file of topological comparisons, all of them out of previously translated
experience."
Prudence: "And you think our computer has enough . . . experiences for that
kind of comparison?"
Bickel: "It will have when we're through with it."
And Flattery thought: Black box -- white box.
Page 90
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Prudence: "Aren't you likely to overload the computer, bog it down?"
Bickel: "For Chrissakes, woman! You personally receive all kinds of
information constantly. Doesn't your own system sort through all that
information, queue it up, program it, and evaluate the data?"
Prudence: "But the Tin Egg's very existence depends on the computer. If we
blunder with . . ."
Bickel: "There's no other way. You should've realized that the instant you
saw this whole ship was a set piece."
Prudence (angrily): "What do you mean? Why?"
Bickel: "Because the computer's the only place where that amount of
information can be stored. You see, woman, we don't have time to train a
completely uneducated infant."
Before she could answer, the transmission horn blared its warning. The AAT
stood on manual bypass to keep its circuits from interfering with the work in
the shop. The horn's trigger fired both Bickel and Flattery into action.
Bickel threw the action switch in the shop. Flattery slapped the AAT master
control switch on his console, realizing with a sense of detachment that the
UMB message would pour through the Ox circuits before being displayed for
them.
CHAPTER 23
I feel the duties of a creator toward this Artificial Consciousness. It seems
to me that my primary goal must be to render this creature happy, to provide
it whatever joy I can. Else this entire project seems pointless. There
already are enough unhappy creatures in this universe.
-Raja Lon Flattery, Private Communion with the Ox
IT TOOK SEVERAL minutes for the incoming message to search its way through the
AAT and the Ox-accretions which Bickel had added to the system. They were
tense minutes in Com-central. Flattery's gaze swept back and forth across the
telltales of his board. There were big unknowns about the system now and any
input might elicit strange behavior from dangerous quarters.
Behavior! Flattery thought, catching the word in his own mind.
There were anthropomorphic assumptions in that word.
Why should it play by our rules?
In the shop, Bickel felt his own waiting tensions. Was the incoming message
going to be more garbage?
Prudence, standing near him, sensed the unwashed musks of his body, all the
evidences of his concentration on their mutual problem.
Why not? He wants to live as much as I do.
Bickel swept his gaze across the repeater telltales in the shop, watched the
needles kick over and come to rest in the normal range. There came the
characteristic sharp AAT hum, felt now in the shop because the Ox was part of
the circuitry. The sound raised a tingling sensation along Bickel's sides and
arms.
The gauges registered the usual AAT pause. The multiple bursts of the message
were being sorted, compared, translated, and fed into the output net.
Bickel glanced at the screen, saw that Flattery had the system on audio.
Morgan Hempstead's voice began rolling from the vocoders:
"This is Project calling UMB ship Earthling. This is Project calling. We are
unable to give an exact determination of the force that damaged the ship. We
suggest an error in transmission or insufficient data. The possibility of an
encounter with a neutrino field of theoretical type A-G is suggested by one
analysis. Why have you failed to acknowledge our directive on return
procedure?"
Bickel watched his gauges. The message was coming in with remarkable clarity,
no garbling at all apparent now that it was routed through the Ox circuits.
There came the distinct sound of Hempstead clearing his throat.
Page 91
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
It gave Prudence a peculiar feeling to hear this ordinary sound -- a man
clearing his throat. The inconsequential thing had been transmitted millions
of miles to no effect other than to inform them Hempstead had been troubled by
a bit of phlegm.
Again, Hempstead's voice rolled from the vocoders: "UMB is being subjected to
heavy, repeat heavy political pressures as regards the abort order. You will
acknowledge this transmission immediately. The ship is to be returned to
orbit around UMB while disposition is made of yourselves and cargo."
"That's an awful word -- disposition," Prudence said. She glanced at Bickel.
He seemed to be taking it calmly.
Flattery could feel the heavy beating of his heart. He wondered if the next
few words would bring that deadly "kill ship" code signal from Hempstead.
Bickel stared at the vocoder with a puzzled frown. How clear Hempstead's
voice sounded -- even to the throat-clearing which the AAT should have
filtered from the message. He shifted his attention to the Ox's surrealistic
growth on the computer wall.
Again, Hempstead's voice intruded: "We expect from this transmission a more
complete analysis of your damage. The nature and extent of the damage of
paramount importance. Acknowledge at once. Project over and out." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl ocenkijessi.opx.pl
combines them into fewer and fewer discrete signals. In the end, we get a
sense datum called an image. But we interpret that image out of an enormous
file of topological comparisons, all of them out of previously translated
experience."
Prudence: "And you think our computer has enough . . . experiences for that
kind of comparison?"
Bickel: "It will have when we're through with it."
And Flattery thought: Black box -- white box.
Page 90
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Prudence: "Aren't you likely to overload the computer, bog it down?"
Bickel: "For Chrissakes, woman! You personally receive all kinds of
information constantly. Doesn't your own system sort through all that
information, queue it up, program it, and evaluate the data?"
Prudence: "But the Tin Egg's very existence depends on the computer. If we
blunder with . . ."
Bickel: "There's no other way. You should've realized that the instant you
saw this whole ship was a set piece."
Prudence (angrily): "What do you mean? Why?"
Bickel: "Because the computer's the only place where that amount of
information can be stored. You see, woman, we don't have time to train a
completely uneducated infant."
Before she could answer, the transmission horn blared its warning. The AAT
stood on manual bypass to keep its circuits from interfering with the work in
the shop. The horn's trigger fired both Bickel and Flattery into action.
Bickel threw the action switch in the shop. Flattery slapped the AAT master
control switch on his console, realizing with a sense of detachment that the
UMB message would pour through the Ox circuits before being displayed for
them.
CHAPTER 23
I feel the duties of a creator toward this Artificial Consciousness. It seems
to me that my primary goal must be to render this creature happy, to provide
it whatever joy I can. Else this entire project seems pointless. There
already are enough unhappy creatures in this universe.
-Raja Lon Flattery, Private Communion with the Ox
IT TOOK SEVERAL minutes for the incoming message to search its way through the
AAT and the Ox-accretions which Bickel had added to the system. They were
tense minutes in Com-central. Flattery's gaze swept back and forth across the
telltales of his board. There were big unknowns about the system now and any
input might elicit strange behavior from dangerous quarters.
Behavior! Flattery thought, catching the word in his own mind.
There were anthropomorphic assumptions in that word.
Why should it play by our rules?
In the shop, Bickel felt his own waiting tensions. Was the incoming message
going to be more garbage?
Prudence, standing near him, sensed the unwashed musks of his body, all the
evidences of his concentration on their mutual problem.
Why not? He wants to live as much as I do.
Bickel swept his gaze across the repeater telltales in the shop, watched the
needles kick over and come to rest in the normal range. There came the
characteristic sharp AAT hum, felt now in the shop because the Ox was part of
the circuitry. The sound raised a tingling sensation along Bickel's sides and
arms.
The gauges registered the usual AAT pause. The multiple bursts of the message
were being sorted, compared, translated, and fed into the output net.
Bickel glanced at the screen, saw that Flattery had the system on audio.
Morgan Hempstead's voice began rolling from the vocoders:
"This is Project calling UMB ship Earthling. This is Project calling. We are
unable to give an exact determination of the force that damaged the ship. We
suggest an error in transmission or insufficient data. The possibility of an
encounter with a neutrino field of theoretical type A-G is suggested by one
analysis. Why have you failed to acknowledge our directive on return
procedure?"
Bickel watched his gauges. The message was coming in with remarkable clarity,
no garbling at all apparent now that it was routed through the Ox circuits.
There came the distinct sound of Hempstead clearing his throat.
Page 91
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
It gave Prudence a peculiar feeling to hear this ordinary sound -- a man
clearing his throat. The inconsequential thing had been transmitted millions
of miles to no effect other than to inform them Hempstead had been troubled by
a bit of phlegm.
Again, Hempstead's voice rolled from the vocoders: "UMB is being subjected to
heavy, repeat heavy political pressures as regards the abort order. You will
acknowledge this transmission immediately. The ship is to be returned to
orbit around UMB while disposition is made of yourselves and cargo."
"That's an awful word -- disposition," Prudence said. She glanced at Bickel.
He seemed to be taking it calmly.
Flattery could feel the heavy beating of his heart. He wondered if the next
few words would bring that deadly "kill ship" code signal from Hempstead.
Bickel stared at the vocoder with a puzzled frown. How clear Hempstead's
voice sounded -- even to the throat-clearing which the AAT should have
filtered from the message. He shifted his attention to the Ox's surrealistic
growth on the computer wall.
Again, Hempstead's voice intruded: "We expect from this transmission a more
complete analysis of your damage. The nature and extent of the damage of
paramount importance. Acknowledge at once. Project over and out." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]