The Turing Option

“Okay. Then I better get started working on my old AI ideas. I mean not my ideas, the ideas the old Brian was working on.” Many of the sketches were bits of code in a language he did not recognize. It must have been written in some computer language that his earlier self, the old Brian, had designed for the purpose.

Brian walked over to the computer, took the GRAM from his pocket and plugged it in. The screen came to life and the computer spoke with a clear contralto voice.

“Good morning. Will you be operating this machine?”

“Yes. My name is Brian. Speak in a deeper voice.”

“Is this satisfactory?” it said, now a deep baritone.

“Yes. Keep it at that.” He turned to Evgeni. “Looks good.”

“Is good. Latest model. Costs millions in Russia except not available there. Boy will I have stories for the hackers in Tomsk when I get home. I got other work to do if you don’t need me.”

“No, I’m fine. I’ll give a shout if I have any questions.”

“The same goes for me,” Ben said, looking at his watch. “I make it over four hours since we started this trip — which is deadline time.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your orders from Dr. Snaresbrook. This is when you stop working for the day and lie down. No excuses accepted, she said — but there is no reason you can’t lie down with your portable computer.”

Brian knew better than to protest. He gave one last long, lingering look at the laboratory — then led the way to the door and locked them all out. Major Wood was waiting outside.

“Just coming to get you,” he said. “I had a call from Dr. Snaresbrook that if you were not yet in your quarters that you were to be taken there immediately.”

“We’re on the way,” Brian said, putting up his hands in surrender. “The long arm of the doctor reaches everywhere.”

“You better believe it,” Ben agreed. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Brian was not surprised to discover that he was quartered in the barracks with the troops. “Right in the middle of the building,” Woody said. “You’ve got dogfaces on all sides, not to mention the guard stations. Here we are.”

The apartment was small but comfortable; sitting room, bedroom, kitchen and bath. His computer was on the worktable and his bag had been unpacked.

“Just pick up the phone when you want dinner — it will be brought up to you. Tonight’s meat loaf,” the Major added as he closed the door.

21 February 16, 2024

Brian could not fall asleep. It was the excitement of the move, the new bed perhaps, all of the things that had happened that day conspired to keep him awake. At midnight he decided to stop twisting and turning and do something about it. He threw back the covers and got out of bed. The room circuitry detected this, checked the time, then turned on the dimmed lights that were just enough to enable him to walk without stumbling. The medicine chest was not as kind to him. It had been programmed not to let anyone take medicine in the dark — and he blinked in the sudden glare when he opened the door. If you can’t sleep take two with a glass of water, the doctor had printed on the label. He did as instructed and made his way back to bed.

The dreams began as soon as he fell asleep. Confused happenings, bits of school, Paddy appeared in one of them, Texas sunshine, the glare of the sun on the Gulf. Blinking into its glare. Rising in the morning, setting in the evening. How beautiful, how wrong. Just an illusion. The sun stays where it is. The earth goes around the sun, around and around.

Darkness and stars. And the moon. Moving moon, spinning around the earth. Rising and setting like the sun. But not like the sun. Moon, sun, earth. Sometimes all three lined up and there was an eclipse. Moon in front of sun.

Brian had never seen a total eclipse. His father had, told him about it. Eclipse: La Paz, Mexico, in 1991. On July 11 the day became dark, moon in front of sun.

Brian stirred in his sleep, frowning into the darkness. He had never seen an eclipse. Would he ever? Would there ever be an eclipse here in the Anza-Borrego desert?

The equation to answer this should be a simple one. Just a basic application of Newton’s laws. The acceleration is inverse to the square of the distance.

Each object pulled by the other two.

Sun, earth, moon. A simple differential equation.

With just eighteen variables.

Set up the coordinates.

Distances.

The earth was how far from the sun?

The Handbook of Astronautics, figures swimming before him, glowing in the dark.

The distance from the earth to the sun at its nearest point.

The axes and degrees of inclinations of the earth and the moon’s orbits…

The precise elements of these orbits — their perihelions, velocities and eccentricities.

Figures and numbers clicked into place — and then it happened.

The differential equation began working itself out before him. Within him? Was he watching, living, experiencing? He murmured and twisted but it would not go away or stop.

Streaming by, number by number.

“November 14, 2031,” he shouted hoarsely.