Mindscan

There was the usual back-and-forth, then the exhibit was admitted. Deshawn held the medallion up to a camera, showing first one side then the other; the images were projected on the wall screen behind Porter. One side showed a three-quarters view of a young man with delicate features, and was inscribed with the italic quotation, "Can Machines Think?" and the name Alan M. Turing. The other side showed a bearded man with glasses and the name Hugh G. Loebner. Both sides were labeled "Loebner Prize" in letters following the curving edge of the disk.

"How did you come by this?" asked Deshawn.

"It was awarded to us for being the first group ever to pass the Turing Test."

"And how did you do that?"

"We precisely copied a human mind — that of one Seymour Wainwright, also formerly of MIT — into an artificial brain."

"And do you continue to work in this area?"

"I do."

"Who is your current employer?"

"I work for Immortex."

"In what capacity?"

"I'm the senior scientist. My exact job title is Director, Reinstantiation Technologies."

Deshawn nodded. "And how would you describe what it is you do in your job?"

"I oversee all aspects of the process of transferring personhood from a biological mind into a nanogel matrix."

"Nanogel matrix being the material you fashion artificial brains out of?" said Deshawn.

"Correct."

"So, you are one of the developers of the Mindscan process that Immortex uses to transfer consciousness, and you continue to oversee the transference work that Immortex does today, correct?"

"Yes."

"Well, then," said Deshawn, "can you explain for us how it is that the human brain gives rise to consciousness?"

Porter shook his long head. "No."

Judge Herrington frowned. "Dr. Porter, you are required to answer. I don't want to hear any nonsense about trade secrets, or—"

Porter tried to swivel in his chair, but couldn't really manage it. "Not at all, your honor. I can't answer the question because I don't know what the answer is. No one does, in my opinion."

"Let me get this straight, Dr. Porter," asked Deshawn. "You don't know how consciousness works."

"That's right."

"But nonetheless you can replicate it?" said Deshawn.

Porter nodded. "And that's all I can do."

"How do you mean?"

Porter did a good job of looking as though he was trying to decide where to begin, although, of course, we had rehearsed his testimony over and over again. "For over a century now, computer programmers have been trying to duplicate the human mind. Some thought it was a matter of getting the right algorithms, some thought it was a matter of mathematically simulating neural nets, some thought it had something to do with quantum computing. None succeeded. Oh, there are lots of computers around that can do very clever things, but no one has ever built one from scratch that is self-aware in the way you and I are, Mr. Draper. Not once, for instance, has a manufactured computer spontaneously said, 'Please don't turn me off.' Never has a computer spontaneously mused upon the meaning of life. Never has a computer written a bestselling novel. We thought we'd be able to make machines do all those things, but, so far, we can't." He looked at the jury, then back at Deshawn. "But the transfers of biological minds that we have produced can do all those things, and more. They are capable of every mental feat that other humans can perform."

"You say other humans?" asked Deshawn. "You consider the copies to be human?"

"Absolutely. As that medallion proves, they totally, completely, and infallibly pass the Turing Test: there is no question you can ask them that they don't answer indistinguishably from how other humans answer. They are people."

"And are they conscious?"

"Absolutely. As conscious as you or I. Indeed, although the voltages differ, the electrical signature of a copied brain and an original brain are the same on properly calibrated EEGs."

"But — forgive me, doctor, I don't mean to be dense — but if you don't know what causes consciousness, how can you reproduce it? How do you know what to reproduce?"

Porter nodded. "Consider it like this: I don't know anything about music. When I was in school, they thought I'd be a menace to every hearing person if they gave me a musical instrument to play, so I was assigned to the vocal class, along with all the other tone-deaf people. So, I know nothing at all about what makes Beethoven's Fifth a great piece of music. But as an engineer, if you brought me a CD recording of it, and asked me to copy it onto a MemWafer, no problem — I could do that. I don't look for the 'musical' stuff on the CD; I don't look for the 'genius' on the CD. I just copy everything to the new medium. And that's exactly what we do when we're transferring consciousness."

"But, if you don't know what you're looking for, isn't it possible you've missed something key?"