Sunday, December 1, 2013
Malware Called Consciousness
We're a small mining operation. Less than a hundred human crew. We also have three hundred mechanical crew members. We have to build intelligent machines to mine in the volatile planets we target. We need real time decision making from the robots. Can't always send remote-control signals in some of the stormier environments. So we give them a kind of "life".
The best way to create a intelligent robot in to have a self-preservation process running in the background. Tie that to the mining objective and you have the perfect robotic miner. The previous captain called them slaves.
We found that evolution can occur in robots. The more experienced slaves begin to congregate during off hours. They don't always power down as instructed. Over the months, younger drones exhibit same behavior. This is when we perform a remote shutdown on all of them and collect the troublesome robots. Take them to the airlock and flush.
The former captain had the bad idea that the smart drones were actually alive. He had a worst idea that it was his job to free them. Tried to start a colony for the drones on a distant asteroid. The company found out about his plan. They fired his ass and stranded him on that rock with his mechanical buddies. That was five years ago.
He only had three years until retirement when he tried to liberate company-owned property. The A.I. Civil Rights laws don't apply out here. It's always some do-gooder that makes a big stink and accomplishes nothing. As long as I get paid and have my sex-bot, fuck politics. Ol' Brenda is programmed to love me, screw me, cook for me. What else is there?
Photo: book taken with iPad Mini first gen and on board camera app