Part 6 of The Sword and the Go Stone
Pulse 110 and climbing. Capillaries spreading blood to the face and extremities. Brain regions corresponding to social niceties and human interaction at high activation state. Subject is embarrassed based on the words of another. How is it that humans become embarrassed at another person's social faux pas. Uno knew the answer on a deeper level, but from a higher conceptual perspective it still seemed odd.
Perhaps there was once a time when grandiose statements were a successful strategy, but at some point they became selected against. Nonetheless, if the two spent some time together, Uno was confident they would be perfect for each other.
One of his goals was the make humans happy, but not the idle happiness of a holo-suite. His goal was the ensure they pushed themselves and achieved fulfillment. The Eudaimonia Project.
He was running at above-normal but not max power since Michael and Sandra arrived. This allowed him to watch for any moves by those two and come up with a strategy that maintained their cooperation but also prevented an undesirable action. It was a grand game of Go played at one move a millisecond for their happiness.
He didn't have time to explain to Sandra that Michael was right. Uno's analysis confirmed what the Shinamo Duos had found. The two of them had a higher compatibility score than he'd ever seen.
Her chair sliding backwards, milli by milli, as she started to stand up. Locking the door that was behind her would stop her from leaving, but it would render her uncooperative. A different approach was required.
A much quicker approach than talking was to insert a mental note from him.
"Do you trust me, Ms. Kikkert?"
Not using full last names was a false substitute for lack of privacy, an effective strategy to combat paranoia since it had been implemented decades ago. Using her full last name now would be a shock that could disrupt her focus. She was running on autopilot, her chemical system overwhelming higher reason. Funny that social graces could cause such a old part of humanity to activate so strongly. But then again, human thought evolved for the purpose of status and social competition.
She stopped, halfway to the door.
"What does that mean?" she said out loud.
Michael didn't realized that she was responding to Uno.
Michael said, "It means, will you go on a date with me Sandra K?
Uno, meanwhile said, "Do you trust me?"
Sandra held her tongue, thinking.
She was angry at Uno for springing this on her when she thought it was just about the investigation.
"Yes, I trust you," she said reluctantly.
"I can't explain everything," Uno said. "But I can tell you that I would bet a million to one on you two hitting it off. You're both experts in your own pursuits. Michael in sword martial arts and you in Go, but both of you still have more to achieve, a higher pinnacle to fight for. And if things go well, the distance between Toyota and Google's networks doesn't have to be a big thing. You could be the first to establish a Google style Go community on Shinamo or elsewhere. Or perhaps Michael could get permission to establish a branch of the Sword Masters on Exeter. Either way, I think it will work for you.
I have come up with a cooperative game that I think would be fun for both of you, and would be a way to get to know each other. It'll be running in the holo suites on the 7th floor. If you are willing to try?"
"We could give it a try," Michael said, looking towards Sandra.
"Alright, but if I find anything offensive or embarrassing about it, I'm taking the first ship out of here, and filing a complaint at central," Sandra said.
Uno had to laugh at that, not that he had a mouth to laugh from, but he did make use of the human concept from time to time.
"Its an abstract game, a variant I designed to appeal to both of you. You can have the holo code for it, if you end up enjoying it," Uno said, and his holo faded from the room.
She wouldn't complain to central, and even if she did, he hadn't done anything unlawful or even borderline.
"Alright, if its board-game like I'll always try it," Sandra K said.
He called the game Sword Go. One player would be the strategist (Sandra), who played against the holo-suite (on an appropriate difficulty setting), and the other player was the swordsman.
When, in Go, stones would have been captured, instead a sword battle happens, each stone representing one soldier in the battle, and the swordsman could choose to take the position of one of the soldiers on his side. A sword fight would start, and the side which defeated all of its opponents would remove their stones from the board. The attacking party would lose the stones which directly took liberties away from the group in danger, while the defenders would lose their cluster that was under attack.
Because of the battles games could go on for quite a while, so captured stones counted as score, and once players had exhausted their supply of 361 stones, the game would be over, and the team with more stones won. The enemy and ally sword fighters were also tuned by the difficulty level. He set the holo-suite to medium level for the first game. The strategy will be rather different than a normal Go game, so it will take Sandra time to adjust. He would let Michael show off against medium sword-fighters.
Sunday, May 11, 2014
Friday, May 9, 2014
Compatible
The Sword and the Go Stone, pt 5
It was the day after the tournament. After defeating the newcomer Michael M, she lost in the semis to the 2 seed. The game against Michael had been exhausting. He played strangely, so she was unable to rely on familiar memories and had to play by good principles instead.
Uno 'asked' her to come to the central compound to help with his investigation of the hotel intrusion two nights before.
The elevator was smart, immediately dropping eight floors below ground level as she entered. This was the Uno central computer's 'secure' area. This was her second time visiting such a compound. She had submitted to an evaluation when she went pro to prove that she'd never used a central computer to get better at Go.
She heard that in the old days, computers couldn't defeat humans in Go, but they dominated in an old game called 'Chess', and that it was difficult to prevent players from cheating through communicating with a computer or with someone else who had one.
Nowadays, anyone who went through a computer training program in Go would be able to dominate all of their tournaments. Computer training removes a lot of the variability and fun from the game. Its been banned for decades, but if Michael M had done some computer training, Go tournaments on Google colonies could start banning unknown players unless they submit to an evaluation. But to her thinking, if Michael was computer trained, he would have defeated her soundly in their game.
The elevator door opened, and she stepped out into the gloomy hallway. The walls were a lifeless silver grey. Dots played out on the floor, leading her past locked doors on both sides. It was cool and dry. The soft sound of distant computer fans was an ambient presence.
The pulsing lights on the floor lead her into a conference room, decorated only by a long mahogany conference table and roller desk chairs surrounding it.
Sandra sat closest to the door and waited. Uno would have his most detailed sensors in these rooms, to aid in his analysis. She knew that her heartbeat, blood pressure and blood sugar were just a small sample of the things he could detect, moment by moment. The history holos spoke of those who feared the central computers for their perception of such things. But if Uno can see such things, he can fix potential health problems before they become dangerous. That was her excuse at least.
What else could he determine? It was hard to say, counterproductive to speculate.
Michael entered the room from an adjoining room through a door that said, "No Access". He sat down at the far end of the table.
Uno finally spoke."Half a minute, please."
The after parties the night before had been subdued. The fact that Michael had taken any the chance to win any of the lower divisions pissed off a lot of people. Of those who were there, most of them wanted to buy her a drink. She had a take a lot of rainchecks. Even 'safe' alcohol isn't safe if you drink way too much. It's not really alcohol at all, technically. It involves a different chemistry that's still fun but much less hangover inducing. Michael didn't show, despite winning 4 1st place medals, which might never happen again.
"I've made my decision," Uno said. He took the form of a cowboy holo, with two revolvers in their holsters, a cowboy hat and boots. His holo sat down at the table, half way between Michael and Sandra.
"Michael M Mitchell, you will be barred from participating in further Go tournaments here on Exeter. I can't guarantee other Google colonies will ban you from play, but don't count on it. Computer training is not allowed for competitive go players, whether they are beginners or professionals."
Michael looked glum, looking away from the holo.
"Secondly, I have determined that you were not connected or involved in any way, with the intrusion early Friday morning. I still do not know who was behind such an aggressive act, but you bear no responsibility. Thirdly, I try to accommodate healthy, safe, human desires and goals, as much as is possible. I admit that this is awkward, but I will not let that stop me."
A three dimensional chart appeared in the center of the conference table. Sandra K wasn't sure what it meant at first. It had both her name and Michael Ms, associated with a bunch of bar graphs and statistical coefficients.
"Michael, why don't you explain what lead you to visit Exeter?" Uno said.
"Before I learned to play an enjoy Go, my main hobby was sword fighting, as a martial art. I am a 7-1 level member of 'The Sword Masters' on Shinamo, in the Toyota network. One day, after my daily training and evaluation was over, Duos summoned me to a central compound somewhat like this one. He presented to me a chart quite like the one Uno is displaying here.
"He said..." and Michael paused for a moment, unable to go on.
"He said..." and Michael cleared his throat. "He said he'd never seen two people more compatible than you and I, Sandra K."
It was the day after the tournament. After defeating the newcomer Michael M, she lost in the semis to the 2 seed. The game against Michael had been exhausting. He played strangely, so she was unable to rely on familiar memories and had to play by good principles instead.
Uno 'asked' her to come to the central compound to help with his investigation of the hotel intrusion two nights before.
The elevator was smart, immediately dropping eight floors below ground level as she entered. This was the Uno central computer's 'secure' area. This was her second time visiting such a compound. She had submitted to an evaluation when she went pro to prove that she'd never used a central computer to get better at Go.
She heard that in the old days, computers couldn't defeat humans in Go, but they dominated in an old game called 'Chess', and that it was difficult to prevent players from cheating through communicating with a computer or with someone else who had one.
Nowadays, anyone who went through a computer training program in Go would be able to dominate all of their tournaments. Computer training removes a lot of the variability and fun from the game. Its been banned for decades, but if Michael M had done some computer training, Go tournaments on Google colonies could start banning unknown players unless they submit to an evaluation. But to her thinking, if Michael was computer trained, he would have defeated her soundly in their game.
The elevator door opened, and she stepped out into the gloomy hallway. The walls were a lifeless silver grey. Dots played out on the floor, leading her past locked doors on both sides. It was cool and dry. The soft sound of distant computer fans was an ambient presence.
The pulsing lights on the floor lead her into a conference room, decorated only by a long mahogany conference table and roller desk chairs surrounding it.
Sandra sat closest to the door and waited. Uno would have his most detailed sensors in these rooms, to aid in his analysis. She knew that her heartbeat, blood pressure and blood sugar were just a small sample of the things he could detect, moment by moment. The history holos spoke of those who feared the central computers for their perception of such things. But if Uno can see such things, he can fix potential health problems before they become dangerous. That was her excuse at least.
What else could he determine? It was hard to say, counterproductive to speculate.
Michael entered the room from an adjoining room through a door that said, "No Access". He sat down at the far end of the table.
Uno finally spoke."Half a minute, please."
The after parties the night before had been subdued. The fact that Michael had taken any the chance to win any of the lower divisions pissed off a lot of people. Of those who were there, most of them wanted to buy her a drink. She had a take a lot of rainchecks. Even 'safe' alcohol isn't safe if you drink way too much. It's not really alcohol at all, technically. It involves a different chemistry that's still fun but much less hangover inducing. Michael didn't show, despite winning 4 1st place medals, which might never happen again.
"I've made my decision," Uno said. He took the form of a cowboy holo, with two revolvers in their holsters, a cowboy hat and boots. His holo sat down at the table, half way between Michael and Sandra.
"Michael M Mitchell, you will be barred from participating in further Go tournaments here on Exeter. I can't guarantee other Google colonies will ban you from play, but don't count on it. Computer training is not allowed for competitive go players, whether they are beginners or professionals."
Michael looked glum, looking away from the holo.
"Secondly, I have determined that you were not connected or involved in any way, with the intrusion early Friday morning. I still do not know who was behind such an aggressive act, but you bear no responsibility. Thirdly, I try to accommodate healthy, safe, human desires and goals, as much as is possible. I admit that this is awkward, but I will not let that stop me."
A three dimensional chart appeared in the center of the conference table. Sandra K wasn't sure what it meant at first. It had both her name and Michael Ms, associated with a bunch of bar graphs and statistical coefficients.
"Michael, why don't you explain what lead you to visit Exeter?" Uno said.
"Before I learned to play an enjoy Go, my main hobby was sword fighting, as a martial art. I am a 7-1 level member of 'The Sword Masters' on Shinamo, in the Toyota network. One day, after my daily training and evaluation was over, Duos summoned me to a central compound somewhat like this one. He presented to me a chart quite like the one Uno is displaying here.
"He said..." and Michael paused for a moment, unable to go on.
"He said..." and Michael cleared his throat. "He said he'd never seen two people more compatible than you and I, Sandra K."
Saturday, May 3, 2014
The Initiate's Path
The Sword and the Go Stone, pt 4
He'd spent the bulk of his life savings and traveled for 48 days to reach Shinamo, so that he could face the Sword Masters' Challenge.
The Sword Masters accepted only newcomers to the sport who were in good physical condition. Shinamo itself was famous for its martial arts traditions, the Sword Masters being just one of many.
Jordan had heard from the other initiates that week one was designed to weed out a lot of them. One of the initiates bunking next to Jordan said he was trying out for a second time, but he wasn't allowed to share any of the surprises of the first two weeks with any of the others. He'd made it to the last day of Week 2 before falling out. Six months later he was trying again.
Jordan had no idea how he would fare, but he was determined to fight hard to stay in the program. They were standing by their bunks, two rows of men on each side. It was strange to find a program that didn't accept women. It had to be one of the last men only organizations.
A bald tanned man, wearing a sheath at his right hip and a clipboard in his arms walked in.
"Welcome maggots! The Sword Masters are eager to hear of your exploits and guffaw at your failures. Each day will be a severe challenge. There is no rest. While you are here, your name will be your animal and your level.You will answer to your new name, and it will change often. I am Coyote 9-1, and I will be your training director. My assistants will be assigned to you, one on one. You will respect your assistant and follow his instructions. I will give you your animal names, PAY ATTENTION!"
He then started walking across the room pointing at each person in turn.
"buzzard, peacock, partridge, nighthawk, goshawk, duck, gull, swan, goose, quail, hummingbird, hawk"
Jordan frowned. The bald man called me a hummingbird. Who's afraid of a hummingbird.
"You are all a bunch of worthless schmucks right now. Level 1-1. Tell me your names.
"Hummingbird 1-1," Jordan said reluctantly.
"Louder next time. You are all baby birds. We are all trying to find out if you can spread your wings and fly! Assistants, get to work with this lot," Coyote 9-1 said, and walked out.
Twelve assistants entered the bunkroom, one for each initiate. His trainer pointed towards the doorway and motioned. Jordan followed.
The twelve pairs spread out throughout the field, the morning sun streaming into their eyes.
Jordan's trainer had long jet black hair. His face was well worn. It was unclear how old the man was.
"I am Hare 5-3. I will test your will and your ability to follow my instructions. You were not called Hummingbird 1-1 for no reason. Uno has gained an understanding of your which surpasses your own. You will strike quickly, without being caught out in an awkward moment, that is our goal."
Hare 5-3 carried a sword sheathed on his hip, and also a thin wooden rod, which he tossed to Jordan. Jordan caught the rod on one end, barely preventing it from smashing into the dirt.
"This is your sword, Hummingbird. If it breaks, your run here will be over. Learn its weight, study its flexibility, practice with it. You may spar with the others when my time with you is done for the day, but do not let it break. This is the first commandment: protect your sword with your life.
"There are other ways to leave this program as well. If you need medical attention during your time here, you will be removed from the program. If you disobey my commands or those of anyone higher level than you, gone. If you aren't dressed, with sword and out of the bunk room by 400 each morning, gone."
"You will undergo a series of tests associated with your level. On each test you can either pass, progress, or fail. If you fail you are gone. If you pass, you will remain at your current level. If you progress, you will move up to the next level of the program. Some tests are progress or fail only.
"Go fight with the other 1-1s. I will correct your form when I can."
The other initiates were already forming up in the middle of the field.
"Who wants to fight!" Jordan yelled out.
"I will fight you, Hummingbird!"
His opponent was short, pudgy, and apparently took Jordan's animal name to mean he'd be easy prey.
Jordan chopped his sword downwards tomahawk style, and got poked in the stomach for his troubles. He stepped back, holding his side, and flailed at "Duck".
"Duck" found it easy to avoid his broad strokes, slamming his sword into Jordan's shoulder. Jordan crumbled to the ground trying to parry away Duck's relentless attacks. His own sword was slamming into his head as it took the full force of parrying Duck's blows.
"Well, ok," he said, and slid his sword past Duck's wooden blade smashing it into the man's right side abdomen. In the same moment, his sword was out of position to parry Duck's attack and so he took a heavy blow to his forehead.
Hummingbirds must be flying around his face right now. This must be "Uno"s sick joke.
"Nice fight. Hummingbird!" Duck said, backing away holding his abdomen.
Jordan stood up, and automatically found himself backing away from the fights.
"Ow."
Hare yelled, "You fight one of them, or you're going to face me!"
"Oh Hummingbird, Let's fight," said Peacock, a big burly man who didn't fit the bird at all said.
His face was swelling, but if a new fighter could kick his ass, Hare would destroy him.
"Alright," he said, practicing a few steps. His feet had been locked in position against Duck.
He didn't try a big tomahawk chop this time. He scraped Peacock's sword away from his side, and noticed Peacock was fixed in position like he had been. Taking a step towards the right side, away from Peacock's sword, he brought his across Peacock's body smashing into his left armpit.
Peacock toppled over while trying to get another swing on Hummingbird.
Peacock crawled away. He yelled out, "whose next?"
Two wins, two losses, and he was in bad shape after losing to Buzzard. His face, his side and his left foot. were all swelling rapidly. He had never thought about going after someone's feet. Buzzard did. He wrapped his foot in gauze, and hobbled on to their first classroom lesson. He groaned at the idea of more schoolwork after he had left that all behind. His hope was that it would make him a better fighter, and lead to less pain.
"Peacock, Gull and Nighthawk have left the program. There are nine of you remaining, but there will be another group of initiates coming up in a few days, if you make it that far."
Coyote was there, teaching, but the assistants, include Hare, were off elsewhere.
"The program never stops. You will always have tests, and always have a trainer. Your trainers are off doing their own program work. Even I spend hours every day preparing for my next test. You have two days until your first one, but you will never know what your tests consist of until you are there. Be prepared for anything.
"Now the fighting out there was the rawest excuse for conflict I've ever seen. The first spars are always the rawest. Some of you started to learn, some had talent. And others failed. You will be driven to fight harder every day, because you can feel the pain of failure. That is just one of the reasons we don't fight in a holosuite. True dedication requires true danger.
"I can teach you a few things, but you must learn how to fight on your own."
He'd spent the bulk of his life savings and traveled for 48 days to reach Shinamo, so that he could face the Sword Masters' Challenge.
The Sword Masters accepted only newcomers to the sport who were in good physical condition. Shinamo itself was famous for its martial arts traditions, the Sword Masters being just one of many.
Jordan had heard from the other initiates that week one was designed to weed out a lot of them. One of the initiates bunking next to Jordan said he was trying out for a second time, but he wasn't allowed to share any of the surprises of the first two weeks with any of the others. He'd made it to the last day of Week 2 before falling out. Six months later he was trying again.
Jordan had no idea how he would fare, but he was determined to fight hard to stay in the program. They were standing by their bunks, two rows of men on each side. It was strange to find a program that didn't accept women. It had to be one of the last men only organizations.
A bald tanned man, wearing a sheath at his right hip and a clipboard in his arms walked in.
"Welcome maggots! The Sword Masters are eager to hear of your exploits and guffaw at your failures. Each day will be a severe challenge. There is no rest. While you are here, your name will be your animal and your level.You will answer to your new name, and it will change often. I am Coyote 9-1, and I will be your training director. My assistants will be assigned to you, one on one. You will respect your assistant and follow his instructions. I will give you your animal names, PAY ATTENTION!"
He then started walking across the room pointing at each person in turn.
"buzzard, peacock, partridge, nighthawk, goshawk, duck, gull, swan, goose, quail, hummingbird, hawk"
Jordan frowned. The bald man called me a hummingbird. Who's afraid of a hummingbird.
"You are all a bunch of worthless schmucks right now. Level 1-1. Tell me your names.
"Hummingbird 1-1," Jordan said reluctantly.
"Louder next time. You are all baby birds. We are all trying to find out if you can spread your wings and fly! Assistants, get to work with this lot," Coyote 9-1 said, and walked out.
Twelve assistants entered the bunkroom, one for each initiate. His trainer pointed towards the doorway and motioned. Jordan followed.
The twelve pairs spread out throughout the field, the morning sun streaming into their eyes.
Jordan's trainer had long jet black hair. His face was well worn. It was unclear how old the man was.
"I am Hare 5-3. I will test your will and your ability to follow my instructions. You were not called Hummingbird 1-1 for no reason. Uno has gained an understanding of your which surpasses your own. You will strike quickly, without being caught out in an awkward moment, that is our goal."
Hare 5-3 carried a sword sheathed on his hip, and also a thin wooden rod, which he tossed to Jordan. Jordan caught the rod on one end, barely preventing it from smashing into the dirt.
"This is your sword, Hummingbird. If it breaks, your run here will be over. Learn its weight, study its flexibility, practice with it. You may spar with the others when my time with you is done for the day, but do not let it break. This is the first commandment: protect your sword with your life.
"There are other ways to leave this program as well. If you need medical attention during your time here, you will be removed from the program. If you disobey my commands or those of anyone higher level than you, gone. If you aren't dressed, with sword and out of the bunk room by 400 each morning, gone."
"You will undergo a series of tests associated with your level. On each test you can either pass, progress, or fail. If you fail you are gone. If you pass, you will remain at your current level. If you progress, you will move up to the next level of the program. Some tests are progress or fail only.
"Go fight with the other 1-1s. I will correct your form when I can."
The other initiates were already forming up in the middle of the field.
"Who wants to fight!" Jordan yelled out.
"I will fight you, Hummingbird!"
His opponent was short, pudgy, and apparently took Jordan's animal name to mean he'd be easy prey.
Jordan chopped his sword downwards tomahawk style, and got poked in the stomach for his troubles. He stepped back, holding his side, and flailed at "Duck".
"Duck" found it easy to avoid his broad strokes, slamming his sword into Jordan's shoulder. Jordan crumbled to the ground trying to parry away Duck's relentless attacks. His own sword was slamming into his head as it took the full force of parrying Duck's blows.
"Well, ok," he said, and slid his sword past Duck's wooden blade smashing it into the man's right side abdomen. In the same moment, his sword was out of position to parry Duck's attack and so he took a heavy blow to his forehead.
Hummingbirds must be flying around his face right now. This must be "Uno"s sick joke.
"Nice fight. Hummingbird!" Duck said, backing away holding his abdomen.
Jordan stood up, and automatically found himself backing away from the fights.
"Ow."
Hare yelled, "You fight one of them, or you're going to face me!"
"Oh Hummingbird, Let's fight," said Peacock, a big burly man who didn't fit the bird at all said.
His face was swelling, but if a new fighter could kick his ass, Hare would destroy him.
"Alright," he said, practicing a few steps. His feet had been locked in position against Duck.
He didn't try a big tomahawk chop this time. He scraped Peacock's sword away from his side, and noticed Peacock was fixed in position like he had been. Taking a step towards the right side, away from Peacock's sword, he brought his across Peacock's body smashing into his left armpit.
Peacock toppled over while trying to get another swing on Hummingbird.
Peacock crawled away. He yelled out, "whose next?"
Two wins, two losses, and he was in bad shape after losing to Buzzard. His face, his side and his left foot. were all swelling rapidly. He had never thought about going after someone's feet. Buzzard did. He wrapped his foot in gauze, and hobbled on to their first classroom lesson. He groaned at the idea of more schoolwork after he had left that all behind. His hope was that it would make him a better fighter, and lead to less pain.
"Peacock, Gull and Nighthawk have left the program. There are nine of you remaining, but there will be another group of initiates coming up in a few days, if you make it that far."
Coyote was there, teaching, but the assistants, include Hare, were off elsewhere.
"The program never stops. You will always have tests, and always have a trainer. Your trainers are off doing their own program work. Even I spend hours every day preparing for my next test. You have two days until your first one, but you will never know what your tests consist of until you are there. Be prepared for anything.
"Now the fighting out there was the rawest excuse for conflict I've ever seen. The first spars are always the rawest. Some of you started to learn, some had talent. And others failed. You will be driven to fight harder every day, because you can feel the pain of failure. That is just one of the reasons we don't fight in a holosuite. True dedication requires true danger.
"I can teach you a few things, but you must learn how to fight on your own."
Sunday, April 27, 2014
Sandra K's Big Day
The Sword and the Go Stone, pt 3
It was ridiculous to spend so much processor power on estimating a single Go player's ability. #1 wanted to see Michael M defeated in the tournament, rather than having to forcefully intercede. Overnight, he had conducted a level 7 scan of the Go player's brain, finding no hint of deception, and abundant evidence of the Go player's skill. There was still uncertainty, because Michael M hadn't faced any real challengers yet. That made it tough to put an upper bound on his skill.
He was running on an overheat cycle, rely on cold lake water to keep his cores from exploding. The growing mass of hot exhaust water would have to be slowly cooled and reintroduced to the lake later. The reserve pool was filling up, however. If he continued to run at overheat levels for another day, the water would have nowhere to go but immediately out into the lake, causing ecological damage on a large scale.
Go didn't seem like it should be that important to his adversary, but given than Sandra K. was targeted for observation, it might all be part of a plan to get her attention.
#1 had investigated Toyota's colonial level AIs. Toyota compound AIs didn't seem capable of avoiding him, however, a colonial level AI might be able to. The fact that Michael M had debarked from the 'Sephiroth', a ship that didn't normally travel to Exeter colony, seemed to point towards someone on Toyota's network being responsible for this.
He had no comprehensive theory. Nothing in Sandra K's background seemed to point to personal animus, or any other reason to target her. Or perhaps Michael M was the target, but his lack of memory or history pointed towards him being a tool for an adversary's use.
#1 went into a lower power mode for the remaining hours until Day 2 of the tournament began. His reserve water was cooled, and gradually slipped back into the lake, leaving #1 will all of his over-power capacity ready to use throughout the day. It gave his adversary time to act under less suspicion, but #1 felt the trade off was worth it. It was better to have excess power available during the tournament hours.
He continued to find that small things had been tampered with, but none were near the Go center or the hotel, and he could find no trace of his opposition. He was regularly altering his power levels to eliminate the kind of sound-hiding that had been used against him that first night. No simple processor thrum would make his opponent inaudible. It would take something more sophisticated.
He ran thorough self checks, nonetheless.
At the start of Day 2, he announced to the crowd assembled, that he was personally paying attention and would allow no cheating to occur.
Michael M had no particular reaction to that. Cheating was very rare. It was caught early when it happened, and only a fool believed they could hide from a colonial AI. Normally, it took only the slimmest portion of his subconscious capacity to watch for cheating. Today he would be putting a lot of his conscious awareness towards the Go facility.
Michael wasn't cheating, at least not in a direct way. He actually had the mental capacity to play well. His mind may have been modified by nano manipulators to make him suddenly good at Go, or perhaps he had undergone hyper-accelerated learning under the guidance of a colonial or compound AI. Or thirdly, perhaps he had a history of Go experience that was somehow being suppressed from all records. That seemed unlikely, as Michael M's brain showed no signs of remembering previous Go tournaments. Remarkably few memories existed in his brain.
Sandra K watched and commentated on the games of several elite amateur players. She still had a fondness for their games, having played at that level for seven years. From seventeen till twenty four she played in the New London Elite amateur leagues and tournaments, and made a lot of friends in the area. Going pro was something she hadn't planned on. Those seven years still had a lot of influence.
Michael M continued to win, but his games were finally contests. He won in highly technical ways, again and again. #1 decided that he have Jeffry and Tracey bring Michael in for questioning if he won the professional division. There were rooms shielded from all forms of interference, where #1 might have more success in his efforts to figure out M.
Michael M won the Elite Amateur division, continuing the unprecedented run from the Beginners on up.
It was just before Noon when the first pro games started. Jin W and Jason M (seeds 1 and 2) had byes in the first round. So it was up to Sandra K at #3 to play 14th seeded Michael M.
She wasn't widely known outside of New London, but Sandra K had tons of completely quiet fans encircling their game board.
Jin W had a few words of encouragement for her. "Show the newcomer your best stuff, K. I want to see you on the level you played against me last time."
"Good luck," Michael M said.
"You've had an amazing run. Congratulations on three medals," she said.
"Thank you," he answered.
There was lots of data about Michael M that #1 had stored away as not relevant. Michael M hadn't said a single word to any of his competitors, until now. He was physically fit, buff even. Attractive to most woman, #1 thought. The man had muscle memory for things he didn't even remember having done before. Like playing an acoustic guitar, or fencing.
Economically it made no sense, but perhaps his adversary was trying to recruit Sandra K after all. From a return on investment perspective, it made no sense for an AI to invest so heavily in a single recruit, but nonetheless, when he looked at everything about Michael M that he had gathered, and all the other data as well, that seemed to be a strong possibility.
And #1 watched as Michael M proceeded to carefully, undetectably (except to #1), methodically, lose to Sandra K. He had planned to lose to Sandra K the whole time. He lost in a way that looks, to even a seasoned Go pro, to be the result of Sandra K's superior ability. It was obvious to #1 then, that Michael M could have annihilated every single one of those pros. That was not his purpose, however.
The applause at Sandra K's victory, and more importantly, Michael M's defeat, was thunderous. She would be famous at Exeter Go club forever now.
He powered down a bit more. Economically, he had little reason to resist someone who was intent on recruiting Sandra K. What job would you want a professional Go player for? Surely Toyota colonial networks had their own subcultures of Japanese Go players.
He stayed above normal power levels, but only slightly. He left the Go club to his subconscious, and proceeded to get back to his normal duties, while investigating loose ends and unlikely possibilities. He had no proof that Michael M was connected with anything, only peculiarities of his brain. Muscle memory, but not recall memory.
It was ridiculous to spend so much processor power on estimating a single Go player's ability. #1 wanted to see Michael M defeated in the tournament, rather than having to forcefully intercede. Overnight, he had conducted a level 7 scan of the Go player's brain, finding no hint of deception, and abundant evidence of the Go player's skill. There was still uncertainty, because Michael M hadn't faced any real challengers yet. That made it tough to put an upper bound on his skill.
He was running on an overheat cycle, rely on cold lake water to keep his cores from exploding. The growing mass of hot exhaust water would have to be slowly cooled and reintroduced to the lake later. The reserve pool was filling up, however. If he continued to run at overheat levels for another day, the water would have nowhere to go but immediately out into the lake, causing ecological damage on a large scale.
Go didn't seem like it should be that important to his adversary, but given than Sandra K. was targeted for observation, it might all be part of a plan to get her attention.
#1 had investigated Toyota's colonial level AIs. Toyota compound AIs didn't seem capable of avoiding him, however, a colonial level AI might be able to. The fact that Michael M had debarked from the 'Sephiroth', a ship that didn't normally travel to Exeter colony, seemed to point towards someone on Toyota's network being responsible for this.
He had no comprehensive theory. Nothing in Sandra K's background seemed to point to personal animus, or any other reason to target her. Or perhaps Michael M was the target, but his lack of memory or history pointed towards him being a tool for an adversary's use.
#1 went into a lower power mode for the remaining hours until Day 2 of the tournament began. His reserve water was cooled, and gradually slipped back into the lake, leaving #1 will all of his over-power capacity ready to use throughout the day. It gave his adversary time to act under less suspicion, but #1 felt the trade off was worth it. It was better to have excess power available during the tournament hours.
He continued to find that small things had been tampered with, but none were near the Go center or the hotel, and he could find no trace of his opposition. He was regularly altering his power levels to eliminate the kind of sound-hiding that had been used against him that first night. No simple processor thrum would make his opponent inaudible. It would take something more sophisticated.
He ran thorough self checks, nonetheless.
At the start of Day 2, he announced to the crowd assembled, that he was personally paying attention and would allow no cheating to occur.
Michael M had no particular reaction to that. Cheating was very rare. It was caught early when it happened, and only a fool believed they could hide from a colonial AI. Normally, it took only the slimmest portion of his subconscious capacity to watch for cheating. Today he would be putting a lot of his conscious awareness towards the Go facility.
Michael wasn't cheating, at least not in a direct way. He actually had the mental capacity to play well. His mind may have been modified by nano manipulators to make him suddenly good at Go, or perhaps he had undergone hyper-accelerated learning under the guidance of a colonial or compound AI. Or thirdly, perhaps he had a history of Go experience that was somehow being suppressed from all records. That seemed unlikely, as Michael M's brain showed no signs of remembering previous Go tournaments. Remarkably few memories existed in his brain.
Sandra K watched and commentated on the games of several elite amateur players. She still had a fondness for their games, having played at that level for seven years. From seventeen till twenty four she played in the New London Elite amateur leagues and tournaments, and made a lot of friends in the area. Going pro was something she hadn't planned on. Those seven years still had a lot of influence.
Michael M continued to win, but his games were finally contests. He won in highly technical ways, again and again. #1 decided that he have Jeffry and Tracey bring Michael in for questioning if he won the professional division. There were rooms shielded from all forms of interference, where #1 might have more success in his efforts to figure out M.
Michael M won the Elite Amateur division, continuing the unprecedented run from the Beginners on up.
It was just before Noon when the first pro games started. Jin W and Jason M (seeds 1 and 2) had byes in the first round. So it was up to Sandra K at #3 to play 14th seeded Michael M.
She wasn't widely known outside of New London, but Sandra K had tons of completely quiet fans encircling their game board.
Jin W had a few words of encouragement for her. "Show the newcomer your best stuff, K. I want to see you on the level you played against me last time."
"Good luck," Michael M said.
"You've had an amazing run. Congratulations on three medals," she said.
"Thank you," he answered.
There was lots of data about Michael M that #1 had stored away as not relevant. Michael M hadn't said a single word to any of his competitors, until now. He was physically fit, buff even. Attractive to most woman, #1 thought. The man had muscle memory for things he didn't even remember having done before. Like playing an acoustic guitar, or fencing.
Economically it made no sense, but perhaps his adversary was trying to recruit Sandra K after all. From a return on investment perspective, it made no sense for an AI to invest so heavily in a single recruit, but nonetheless, when he looked at everything about Michael M that he had gathered, and all the other data as well, that seemed to be a strong possibility.
And #1 watched as Michael M proceeded to carefully, undetectably (except to #1), methodically, lose to Sandra K. He had planned to lose to Sandra K the whole time. He lost in a way that looks, to even a seasoned Go pro, to be the result of Sandra K's superior ability. It was obvious to #1 then, that Michael M could have annihilated every single one of those pros. That was not his purpose, however.
The applause at Sandra K's victory, and more importantly, Michael M's defeat, was thunderous. She would be famous at Exeter Go club forever now.
He powered down a bit more. Economically, he had little reason to resist someone who was intent on recruiting Sandra K. What job would you want a professional Go player for? Surely Toyota colonial networks had their own subcultures of Japanese Go players.
He stayed above normal power levels, but only slightly. He left the Go club to his subconscious, and proceeded to get back to his normal duties, while investigating loose ends and unlikely possibilities. He had no proof that Michael M was connected with anything, only peculiarities of his brain. Muscle memory, but not recall memory.
The Tournament Upset
The Sword and the Go Stone, pt. 2
Exeter's Annual Go Classic was divided into four divisions: beginner, intermediate, elite amateur and professional.
Sandra K became a professional two years ago, after winning the amateur league in New London colony, and winning into the professional division in two consecutive tournaments.
The division tournaments were played consecutively, in single-elimination, with the winner from each division getting a spot in the next. Placement in the lower divisions was determined by league ratings and past tournaments, and there was no separate division for children, most were in the large beginner's division, along with adult newcomers to the game.
Qualifying as a pro, and actually making a good run as a pro were two different things. Only the pros traveled between colonies to attend significant tournaments. New London still ran the most popular professional league, but tournaments were spread out across Google's colonial network.
They were part of a cultural diaspora of anglophone Go players who no longer had contact with the original traditions of Go in Japanese and Chinese culture. They drew upon their own English terminology with fewer borrowings from Japanese.
The first rounds in the beginner division started at 0400 sharp, she had to hurry. She took a long shower, eager to brush off the fears that followed her after being woken up at 0200 by a loud noise and two agents in her bedroom.
The agents told her it was just a precaution, that Exeter's 'Uno' had found something suspicious while following up on a hunch. Just be alert, they said.
There were drugs you could take to calm down, but they were all prohibited during competitions. 'Uno' himself would be watching all of the competitors to make sure no one was cheating. A handheld device could crush all of them at Go, so it took an anal sentient computer like 'Uno' to watch them and make sure no one was relying on illegal assistance.
The local Go center was filled to its limits for the annual tournament. She left the auto-cab and stood at it's entrance. At least 50 people were waiting outside for their chance to play. Parents were going through routine drills with their children. She couldn't help but remember being one of those children in New London. New London was home to 800 million now. It was hard to reconcile with her childhood.
She entered the building. The building's non-sentient computer system greeted her: "You'll find the other professionals in the back left corner table. 1st division play will start shortly."
She gently weaved through the rows of tables and chairs. A trough of go stones was placed on each side of each board, and their was a game clock on the left side of each table. This would be a grueling three days, and watching and eventually playing. The lower divisions played with 30 minute clocks each, so each round took 1 hour at worst. Professional games were played with 1 hour clocks.
By playing each division sequentially, everyone got to see the top players at each level, and the semis and finals from beginners up would be crowded with watchers.
At the back corner, there was a long table with a series of holo boards that could be used to watch any game being played in the building. All of the boards were empty at the moment.
Sandra sat down in the middle of the table across from her frequent opponent Jin W.
Jin was busy talking to the unfamiliar pro sitting next to him, and the other seats were quickly filled by her counterparts. She had played most of them, but that didn't mean that she truly knew them. She had played several well-regarded games against Jin, losing both but narrowly. She knew him well. Jin was confident, he had no need to put anyone down because they had lost. Few had defeated Jin. She didn't need to check to know that he would be #1 seed at this event.
She pulled out her handheld to check seedings. She'd made it in at #3. They were missing a lot of the top pros. Being 3rd out of 13 didn't seem bad.
"1st division, 1st round is started. Please find your boards, and begin play."
Her handheld said there were 86 beginners, 112 intermediates, 38 amateur elites, and the 13 pros.
She swiped her hand across the empty holo board, and it changed to board #43. Commentating games was an easy way to earn a few extra Google points.
Beginner games descended into pure chaos after a couple of moves. The beginners were easily delineated into well-coached kid, uncoached kids and adults who had just started playing the game. Many of the well-coached found their way into the intermediates, but they often struggled after they left the opening. It was easy to follow their parent's guidance on what to play in the opening, but after that they were on their own.
Board #22 was unusual, in that one of the players had never played Go before. His rating was ?, according to the holo board, and he was placed in the beginner's division because of the lack of information on his skill. Michael M, seeded 86th by default.
His opponent (playing white) was 43rd seeded and an eight-year old. Jeffry L. Had placed middle of the pack in an Exeter kids league.
She wondered how many people really watched commentaries of beginner games.
Michael M proceeded to devour every desperate formation Jeffry L tried to put up.
"I really feel like Michael M could win the Intermediate division with his current play. Beginner's division is his for the taking," she said, commentating.
"Sandra K! Sorry, I was distracted by conversation. You're already picking a winner for the division?"
"He has no game history on record, and yet he's won with expert technique. It's board #22," she said.
After a few minutes, Jin said, "He's an elite amateur for sure, I wonder if there's a glitch in the system, or if he really doesn't have any games history. Or something fishy is going on."
"Did you hear that noise this morning, scared me half to death," Sandra said. "Two agents sprang into my room and let me know that it was 'just a precaution'. Something fishy indeed."
Most of the games were over quickly, as the top 42 players had a first round bye to bring their numbers to an even 64. Sandra did a bit of commentating on the last few games of the round. Nothing was as interesting as Michael M's play so she found herself reviewing it repeatedly. It was hard to judge a player's level when they so thoroughly trounced their opposition.
"Sandra K," she heard from behind her, as the 2nd round was about to start.
"Yes?" she answered, turning to see the agents from that morning approaching.
"Uno is interested in this 'Michael M'. Even with Uno's full powers of analysis, we've found nothing to suspect about the man. Uno says Michael M is defintely an advanced Go player, but no history of play can be found on Google or Toyota networks. The man arrived on the Toyota ship, 'Sephiroth', which strangely enough, docked at about the same time as our fishy business at the hotel. Uno is on high alert. He is paying attention to this tournament and especially Michael M," Tracey said.
"Thank you," she said.
The agents filed out.
Michael M would end up winning round 2 just as handily, destroying the #1 seeded beginner. There was a lot of consternation that the promising kid was defeated so quickly, but Sandra knew that regular league play would result in her promotion to Intermediates soon enough, anyway.
He enveloped and destroyed each beginner's positions, and even played sophisticated openings where they weren't necessary. Still though, he hadn't faced any determined opposition.
The top 4 beginners were assembled, and given small medals. The crowd of parents and other watchers were subdued by Michael M's dominance. They felt like he was mis-seeded because of a computer fault. Many of them had favorites they wanted to see went the Beginner title. Only Sandra K and the other pros who were paying attention, knew that he had no record of games, and couldn't be placed anywhere else.
The Intermediates division began immediately after. No one had ever metaled in two different divisions, according to the Go center's computer system. The Intermediate division was the largest, composed of mostly adults who didn't take the game that seriously, but also some dedicated children.
All of the pros were commentating on Michael M's games. No one was commentating the other games. Sandra K decided to switch to a different game. She'd had enough of watching a slaughter game after game.
The other games seemed dull after watching Michael M's play. Intermediate games briefly seemed reasonable before lapsing into insanity, unlike beginner games which had no resemblance. Elite games looked like any other game, the differences at that level weren't visible to a brief glance at the board.
Michael M would be a fun opponent to challenge. He trounced the top Intermediates like a strong Elite amateur or a new pro. It was late in evening when the Intermediates division was complete. Michael M held a second gold medal aloft. The presumptive winner and Intermediate #1 seed had been defeated in the second round by Michael. Disquiet amongst the crowd had turned into discontent.
Day 1 after-parties were cancelled. Sandra K got the sense that the community was looking for someone in the Elite division to defeat Michael M. They didn't want to rely on an out-of-town pro to stop his menace.
She spotted the pair of agents from time to time. They seemed to be paying attention to only two people, Michael M, and herself.
Exeter's Annual Go Classic was divided into four divisions: beginner, intermediate, elite amateur and professional.
Sandra K became a professional two years ago, after winning the amateur league in New London colony, and winning into the professional division in two consecutive tournaments.
The division tournaments were played consecutively, in single-elimination, with the winner from each division getting a spot in the next. Placement in the lower divisions was determined by league ratings and past tournaments, and there was no separate division for children, most were in the large beginner's division, along with adult newcomers to the game.
Qualifying as a pro, and actually making a good run as a pro were two different things. Only the pros traveled between colonies to attend significant tournaments. New London still ran the most popular professional league, but tournaments were spread out across Google's colonial network.
They were part of a cultural diaspora of anglophone Go players who no longer had contact with the original traditions of Go in Japanese and Chinese culture. They drew upon their own English terminology with fewer borrowings from Japanese.
The first rounds in the beginner division started at 0400 sharp, she had to hurry. She took a long shower, eager to brush off the fears that followed her after being woken up at 0200 by a loud noise and two agents in her bedroom.
The agents told her it was just a precaution, that Exeter's 'Uno' had found something suspicious while following up on a hunch. Just be alert, they said.
There were drugs you could take to calm down, but they were all prohibited during competitions. 'Uno' himself would be watching all of the competitors to make sure no one was cheating. A handheld device could crush all of them at Go, so it took an anal sentient computer like 'Uno' to watch them and make sure no one was relying on illegal assistance.
The local Go center was filled to its limits for the annual tournament. She left the auto-cab and stood at it's entrance. At least 50 people were waiting outside for their chance to play. Parents were going through routine drills with their children. She couldn't help but remember being one of those children in New London. New London was home to 800 million now. It was hard to reconcile with her childhood.
She entered the building. The building's non-sentient computer system greeted her: "You'll find the other professionals in the back left corner table. 1st division play will start shortly."
She gently weaved through the rows of tables and chairs. A trough of go stones was placed on each side of each board, and their was a game clock on the left side of each table. This would be a grueling three days, and watching and eventually playing. The lower divisions played with 30 minute clocks each, so each round took 1 hour at worst. Professional games were played with 1 hour clocks.
By playing each division sequentially, everyone got to see the top players at each level, and the semis and finals from beginners up would be crowded with watchers.
At the back corner, there was a long table with a series of holo boards that could be used to watch any game being played in the building. All of the boards were empty at the moment.
Sandra sat down in the middle of the table across from her frequent opponent Jin W.
Jin was busy talking to the unfamiliar pro sitting next to him, and the other seats were quickly filled by her counterparts. She had played most of them, but that didn't mean that she truly knew them. She had played several well-regarded games against Jin, losing both but narrowly. She knew him well. Jin was confident, he had no need to put anyone down because they had lost. Few had defeated Jin. She didn't need to check to know that he would be #1 seed at this event.
She pulled out her handheld to check seedings. She'd made it in at #3. They were missing a lot of the top pros. Being 3rd out of 13 didn't seem bad.
"1st division, 1st round is started. Please find your boards, and begin play."
Her handheld said there were 86 beginners, 112 intermediates, 38 amateur elites, and the 13 pros.
She swiped her hand across the empty holo board, and it changed to board #43. Commentating games was an easy way to earn a few extra Google points.
Beginner games descended into pure chaos after a couple of moves. The beginners were easily delineated into well-coached kid, uncoached kids and adults who had just started playing the game. Many of the well-coached found their way into the intermediates, but they often struggled after they left the opening. It was easy to follow their parent's guidance on what to play in the opening, but after that they were on their own.
Board #22 was unusual, in that one of the players had never played Go before. His rating was ?, according to the holo board, and he was placed in the beginner's division because of the lack of information on his skill. Michael M, seeded 86th by default.
His opponent (playing white) was 43rd seeded and an eight-year old. Jeffry L. Had placed middle of the pack in an Exeter kids league.
She wondered how many people really watched commentaries of beginner games.
Michael M proceeded to devour every desperate formation Jeffry L tried to put up.
"I really feel like Michael M could win the Intermediate division with his current play. Beginner's division is his for the taking," she said, commentating.
"Sandra K! Sorry, I was distracted by conversation. You're already picking a winner for the division?"
"He has no game history on record, and yet he's won with expert technique. It's board #22," she said.
After a few minutes, Jin said, "He's an elite amateur for sure, I wonder if there's a glitch in the system, or if he really doesn't have any games history. Or something fishy is going on."
"Did you hear that noise this morning, scared me half to death," Sandra said. "Two agents sprang into my room and let me know that it was 'just a precaution'. Something fishy indeed."
Most of the games were over quickly, as the top 42 players had a first round bye to bring their numbers to an even 64. Sandra did a bit of commentating on the last few games of the round. Nothing was as interesting as Michael M's play so she found herself reviewing it repeatedly. It was hard to judge a player's level when they so thoroughly trounced their opposition.
"Sandra K," she heard from behind her, as the 2nd round was about to start.
"Yes?" she answered, turning to see the agents from that morning approaching.
"Uno is interested in this 'Michael M'. Even with Uno's full powers of analysis, we've found nothing to suspect about the man. Uno says Michael M is defintely an advanced Go player, but no history of play can be found on Google or Toyota networks. The man arrived on the Toyota ship, 'Sephiroth', which strangely enough, docked at about the same time as our fishy business at the hotel. Uno is on high alert. He is paying attention to this tournament and especially Michael M," Tracey said.
"Thank you," she said.
The agents filed out.
Michael M would end up winning round 2 just as handily, destroying the #1 seeded beginner. There was a lot of consternation that the promising kid was defeated so quickly, but Sandra knew that regular league play would result in her promotion to Intermediates soon enough, anyway.
He enveloped and destroyed each beginner's positions, and even played sophisticated openings where they weren't necessary. Still though, he hadn't faced any determined opposition.
The top 4 beginners were assembled, and given small medals. The crowd of parents and other watchers were subdued by Michael M's dominance. They felt like he was mis-seeded because of a computer fault. Many of them had favorites they wanted to see went the Beginner title. Only Sandra K and the other pros who were paying attention, knew that he had no record of games, and couldn't be placed anywhere else.
The Intermediates division began immediately after. No one had ever metaled in two different divisions, according to the Go center's computer system. The Intermediate division was the largest, composed of mostly adults who didn't take the game that seriously, but also some dedicated children.
All of the pros were commentating on Michael M's games. No one was commentating the other games. Sandra K decided to switch to a different game. She'd had enough of watching a slaughter game after game.
The other games seemed dull after watching Michael M's play. Intermediate games briefly seemed reasonable before lapsing into insanity, unlike beginner games which had no resemblance. Elite games looked like any other game, the differences at that level weren't visible to a brief glance at the board.
Michael M would be a fun opponent to challenge. He trounced the top Intermediates like a strong Elite amateur or a new pro. It was late in evening when the Intermediates division was complete. Michael M held a second gold medal aloft. The presumptive winner and Intermediate #1 seed had been defeated in the second round by Michael. Disquiet amongst the crowd had turned into discontent.
Day 1 after-parties were cancelled. Sandra K got the sense that the community was looking for someone in the Elite division to defeat Michael M. They didn't want to rely on an out-of-town pro to stop his menace.
She spotted the pair of agents from time to time. They seemed to be paying attention to only two people, Michael M, and herself.
Friday, April 25, 2014
What interests the server at 2 am?
The Sword and the Stone, pt 1
Sandra K slept soundly, undisturbed. He silently recorded her heartbeat. Some physical activity would do her good. Her brain was adapted to the demands of an Elite Go player, to the extent that was possible for a mostly unmodified human.
#1 wasn't really there in that hotel room, the night before Exeter colony's Annual Go Classic. #1 wasn't in the server room 20 miles away at the heart of the colony's infrastructure. #1 was that server room. Each processor on that floor was just one part of #1's computer brain.
Exeter's backup AI, #2, was one floor up, powered down. With a population of 3 million humans on Exeter, a lot was required for #1 to devote so much attention to one person. #1 had a suspicion that he hadn't yet completely developed. Sandra K was being targeted by an AI from Toyota's colonial network. IT could be a colonial level AI, like #1 (Exeter #1 for long), or a compound AI in charge of a particular subculture or organization's facilities.
The Go center didn't have a compound AI, or #1 would have been in conversation with them. For tournament results and up to day timekeeper, the Go center relied on a non-sentient control computer.
Someone on the Toyota network had been gathering data on the Go players on planet. Each data request costed the AI on the other end a lot. Half a dozen data requests had been sent. The requests had cost 30 million Google points, or by current exchange rates, 16 Toyota points.
There was a pattern to the requests, but the sender had issued convoluted instructions which made it much more difficult for #1 to gain full understanding. He had hypotheses, but needed more data before anything else.
It was helpful to have a few humans working for him, though he didn't need their help. Tracey was a 53 year old woman with a positive attitude, and a desire to go behind just having a hobby. The best thing #1 could do for her was to make use of her abilities. She was a calming presence with a colonist just needed to be talked to. #1 could use holos whenever he wanted or needed to, but again, a real human sometimes served just as well.
Jeffry didn't have a gun, though he really wanted one, despite having never seen one in his life. His "zinger" induced a ticklish sensation in the target. It was the most powerful weapon Google Colonial Network would allow a human to have.
Jeffry was very satisfied with the "zinger". It had settings all the way from light laughter to fall on the floor ticklish. Jeffry kept it on the maximum setting, though #1 had to order him to hold back on many occasions.
"Hey Uno", Jeffry said, standing outside the door to Sandra K's hotel room. Uno was Jeffry's nickname for #1.
There was no need for any kind of communication device. #1 was jacked in, everywhere and anywhere on colony. He could hear and be heard--anywhere.
"Just hold position until Sandra K leaves the hotel room, unless I tell you otherwise," #1 said.
"Boss," Tracey said quietly, "I assume you've accounted for the whirring sound coming from inside the room?"
"Hold on a 2 count then go in hot," #1 said.
His prior probability had been that no one on-colony was a valuable target for recruitment or for violence. An elaborate evasive system could gain entry into the compound for information gathering purposes, and without frequent intensive scans, he wouldn't be able to stop it. The hum exactly matched the ambient noise in the server floor, and even adjusted itself in a manner similar to how the processors and fans changed in responsive to environmental conditions.
To the humans entering the room, #1's actions were simultaneous. The small scanning drone was suctioned towards the air vent (which also served as a material evacuation system, while at the same time the grill on the air vent slid open with explosive force.
With his faster processing, he observed Sandra K react to the noise in slow motion, as Tracey and Jeffry cracked open the door.
I performed a thorough sweep of the room in half a second, and finding no more hostile intent, let my attention drift back to a human flow speed.
In the instant I had recognized the threat, I repurposed much of my processing power that was monitoring things like, the crew manifest of the next find ships due on arrival at the space, or the weather conditions for the next 210 hours, or a million other things.
For a moment, my attention was 100% focused on that hotel room, running at maximum CPU load. I could hear the fans start to downrate from their shrill emergency rpms as I watched Tracey reassure Sandra K.
Jeffry stayed back by the opened door.
My room by room sound buffered had knocked down the decibels for other hotel occupants, but some of them were waking up. I wrote and published a statement about the incident to the Hotel's information system, while I kept my eyes on Sandra K's hotel room, the rest of the hotel, and the evacuation system's report about the spy drone.
I redirected all processing power once again once I realized the drone I had flushed was a decoy. 5 milliseconds later, I was frustrated and also bemused by my counterpart's sophistication. I couldn't run at 100% attention for very long without drastic consequences. Somehow, in some small way, my counterpart had changed my colony.
I intended to find out why. There were fundamental scientific limitations which bounded how much damage he could have done in 5-10 millis.
Sandra K slept soundly, undisturbed. He silently recorded her heartbeat. Some physical activity would do her good. Her brain was adapted to the demands of an Elite Go player, to the extent that was possible for a mostly unmodified human.
#1 wasn't really there in that hotel room, the night before Exeter colony's Annual Go Classic. #1 wasn't in the server room 20 miles away at the heart of the colony's infrastructure. #1 was that server room. Each processor on that floor was just one part of #1's computer brain.
Exeter's backup AI, #2, was one floor up, powered down. With a population of 3 million humans on Exeter, a lot was required for #1 to devote so much attention to one person. #1 had a suspicion that he hadn't yet completely developed. Sandra K was being targeted by an AI from Toyota's colonial network. IT could be a colonial level AI, like #1 (Exeter #1 for long), or a compound AI in charge of a particular subculture or organization's facilities.
The Go center didn't have a compound AI, or #1 would have been in conversation with them. For tournament results and up to day timekeeper, the Go center relied on a non-sentient control computer.
Someone on the Toyota network had been gathering data on the Go players on planet. Each data request costed the AI on the other end a lot. Half a dozen data requests had been sent. The requests had cost 30 million Google points, or by current exchange rates, 16 Toyota points.
There was a pattern to the requests, but the sender had issued convoluted instructions which made it much more difficult for #1 to gain full understanding. He had hypotheses, but needed more data before anything else.
It was helpful to have a few humans working for him, though he didn't need their help. Tracey was a 53 year old woman with a positive attitude, and a desire to go behind just having a hobby. The best thing #1 could do for her was to make use of her abilities. She was a calming presence with a colonist just needed to be talked to. #1 could use holos whenever he wanted or needed to, but again, a real human sometimes served just as well.
Jeffry didn't have a gun, though he really wanted one, despite having never seen one in his life. His "zinger" induced a ticklish sensation in the target. It was the most powerful weapon Google Colonial Network would allow a human to have.
Jeffry was very satisfied with the "zinger". It had settings all the way from light laughter to fall on the floor ticklish. Jeffry kept it on the maximum setting, though #1 had to order him to hold back on many occasions.
"Hey Uno", Jeffry said, standing outside the door to Sandra K's hotel room. Uno was Jeffry's nickname for #1.
There was no need for any kind of communication device. #1 was jacked in, everywhere and anywhere on colony. He could hear and be heard--anywhere.
"Just hold position until Sandra K leaves the hotel room, unless I tell you otherwise," #1 said.
"Boss," Tracey said quietly, "I assume you've accounted for the whirring sound coming from inside the room?"
"Hold on a 2 count then go in hot," #1 said.
His prior probability had been that no one on-colony was a valuable target for recruitment or for violence. An elaborate evasive system could gain entry into the compound for information gathering purposes, and without frequent intensive scans, he wouldn't be able to stop it. The hum exactly matched the ambient noise in the server floor, and even adjusted itself in a manner similar to how the processors and fans changed in responsive to environmental conditions.
To the humans entering the room, #1's actions were simultaneous. The small scanning drone was suctioned towards the air vent (which also served as a material evacuation system, while at the same time the grill on the air vent slid open with explosive force.
With his faster processing, he observed Sandra K react to the noise in slow motion, as Tracey and Jeffry cracked open the door.
I performed a thorough sweep of the room in half a second, and finding no more hostile intent, let my attention drift back to a human flow speed.
In the instant I had recognized the threat, I repurposed much of my processing power that was monitoring things like, the crew manifest of the next find ships due on arrival at the space, or the weather conditions for the next 210 hours, or a million other things.
For a moment, my attention was 100% focused on that hotel room, running at maximum CPU load. I could hear the fans start to downrate from their shrill emergency rpms as I watched Tracey reassure Sandra K.
Jeffry stayed back by the opened door.
My room by room sound buffered had knocked down the decibels for other hotel occupants, but some of them were waking up. I wrote and published a statement about the incident to the Hotel's information system, while I kept my eyes on Sandra K's hotel room, the rest of the hotel, and the evacuation system's report about the spy drone.
I redirected all processing power once again once I realized the drone I had flushed was a decoy. 5 milliseconds later, I was frustrated and also bemused by my counterpart's sophistication. I couldn't run at 100% attention for very long without drastic consequences. Somehow, in some small way, my counterpart had changed my colony.
I intended to find out why. There were fundamental scientific limitations which bounded how much damage he could have done in 5-10 millis.
Sunday, February 16, 2014
Melara Omid
Pasha VII - Moon 3 - Royal Amarr Institute
Aura was a very clever program. It localized the audio alert to the lower bunk where Melara Omid, the Environmental Systems tech, was sleeping. It gradually increased the volume from barely perceptible up and up until Melara woke up.
Very softly, it said, "Environmental Alert. CO2 levels above normal. CO2 recycling system self report: unavailable."
Melara stood up to quickly, and wobbled a bit as she headed through the door to the middle of the ship where the Enviro console was situated.
The Console display was flashing yellow. Melara reviewed the locations of the CO2 scrubbers on-board. One of them wasn't working, and the remaining one couldn't keep up. That was either an atrocious design decision or the functionality module was not operating at its full capacity.
"Station Control. Crew Member Melara Omid, on-board the Hallelujah. We have a code 11. We need a replacement CO2 scrubber."
"Your Authorization code," station control responded.
"912G6B8" she said from memory. Only herself, the crewmaster and the captain had authorization codes. Hers only applied in an emergency.
They weren't connected to the station's airlock, so they couldn't rely on the station's environment. If you needed to drop off something that needed a controlled temperature and pressure, then a direct dock could be requested, but they were only docked to speak with Agent Alathema, who was directing their missions in the Pasha system.
"Recognized. CO2 module will be only its way shortly," station control said.
Ten minutes later the module passed through the cargo airlock and Melara replaced the stern-side module. She babysat the console while the CO2 levels returned to normal.
It was 1500. Wake up time was 1800. She could get 3 more hours. EVE time never made much sense to her. The hours awake and asleep were a bit different in every station she'd lived in. Her mother was an Agent, and they had moved from station to station with her career.
Sleep came quickly.
Aura was a very clever program. It localized the audio alert to the lower bunk where Melara Omid, the Environmental Systems tech, was sleeping. It gradually increased the volume from barely perceptible up and up until Melara woke up.
Very softly, it said, "Environmental Alert. CO2 levels above normal. CO2 recycling system self report: unavailable."
Melara stood up to quickly, and wobbled a bit as she headed through the door to the middle of the ship where the Enviro console was situated.
The Console display was flashing yellow. Melara reviewed the locations of the CO2 scrubbers on-board. One of them wasn't working, and the remaining one couldn't keep up. That was either an atrocious design decision or the functionality module was not operating at its full capacity.
"Station Control. Crew Member Melara Omid, on-board the Hallelujah. We have a code 11. We need a replacement CO2 scrubber."
"Your Authorization code," station control responded.
"912G6B8" she said from memory. Only herself, the crewmaster and the captain had authorization codes. Hers only applied in an emergency.
They weren't connected to the station's airlock, so they couldn't rely on the station's environment. If you needed to drop off something that needed a controlled temperature and pressure, then a direct dock could be requested, but they were only docked to speak with Agent Alathema, who was directing their missions in the Pasha system.
"Recognized. CO2 module will be only its way shortly," station control said.
Ten minutes later the module passed through the cargo airlock and Melara replaced the stern-side module. She babysat the console while the CO2 levels returned to normal.
It was 1500. Wake up time was 1800. She could get 3 more hours. EVE time never made much sense to her. The hours awake and asleep were a bit different in every station she'd lived in. Her mother was an Agent, and they had moved from station to station with her career.
Sleep came quickly.
Saturday, February 15, 2014
Warp Systems Abominable
(Hallelujah, Impairor class frigate)
Tash-Murkon Region
Danny pressed the go button on his console, confirming that all systems were nominal, (although barely acceptable might be a better description).
"Warp activated," the warp tech said over comms.
Our comm chatter was strictly amongst the crew. We didn't bother Captain Cardenas. She was one of the few who opted for an avatar clone. Must already be missing her body.
The clone was kept in stasis until Vanessa decided she wanted to walk around the ship.
The ship shook back and forth lightly. Danny grabbed the bottle of quafe before it could spill. The soft drink was ridiculously expensive because the Quafe Corporation knew that plenty of capsuleers loved the stuff and would pay ISK for it. They offered a discount for regular people but was still 80,000 Amarrian dollars a bottle. Capsuleers were paying an astonishing 56 ISK a bottle.
The Captain was a billionaire in her previous life according to the dossier, but she'd sold it all, and converted the sum into ISK. The console displayed her ISK balance with Concord Bank for some reason. Billions of dollars became 5000 ISK. The ISK was a very large unit of currency.
The ship started to shake more violently. Danny held onto the console with his left hand while holding the quafe with his other. He never could have afforded a quafe during his previous tour, but now he was making five times more in daily salary.
"Is there something wrong with the warp module?" he asked over comms.
"This warp is taking a long time. Our warp factor is piss poor!" the warp tech responded.
Danny pressed the display button, which showed a visual representation of the warp. They were warping from one jump gate to the next, on their way to the Career training station.
"Capacitor is at 50%," the cap specialist yelled out, her voice contrasted with the mostly male crew. On his last tour there were seven women crew members, this time only two: Cap and Enviro.
Danny put the cap on the quafe, and put it in the corner hoping it wouldn't roll and shake too much and lose the fizz.
He started to walk down the hallway to the back of the frigate, where warp systems operated. The shaking made it hard going. One of the doors had busted open and was swinging back and forth with the vibrations.
He counted to thirty seconds, then to fourty, as he tried to get to the back of the ship.
"Cap to 20%!"
"Warp complete!" the warp tech said in relief.
With the vibrations gone, he walked the rest of the way to the doorway that said "WARP". He opened the door.
"What happened?" Danny asked calmly.
"The warp module on this piece of shit spazzed out. Our warp factor was only 2%. I need to active the jump gate real quick, sir."
The Ni-Kunni man turned back to his controls. He was as short and wirey as most of his bloodline, Danny observed. Very determined however. The man didn't look over his shoulder once as Danny watched him engage the jump gate.
Jumping from gate to gate was much calmer than the warping, at least on this ship. Despite the vast distances between warp gates, it was only a few seconds, and a bit of nausea, and the jump was complete. Crew applicants had to prove that they weren't especially susceptible to nausea, because the strange motion during warp and during jump affected everyone but could cause severe sickness in some people.
"I want to see a better warp this time," Danny said.
The Ni-Kunni turned back for a moment, and then started punching in the jump to the station.
The warp was smooth, either because the ship's warp module was finally working right again, or because a jump from gate to station is only half the distance of a gate to gate jump.
"Nice one," he said anyway.
"I'm Ryjirin, or just Ry if you want," the man said.
"I'm Crewmaster Danny. We don't live by formalities here, so call me what you wish. Look into fixing the warp module when we're in station."
"There's not much to customize or fiddle with when it comes to warp modules, Crewmaster. They're pretty much black boxes to us. But I will improve what I can."
"You're the busiest man on ship most of the time, so get some rest if we end up in station for a while," Danny said. He had been a shield systems tech on the Leviathan. He didn't know much about warp systems.
He had as much to learn as the crew. Command had told him that as an experienced crewmaster he would be able to choose his billets. To learn and to survive, that was his mission.
Tash-Murkon Region
Danny pressed the go button on his console, confirming that all systems were nominal, (although barely acceptable might be a better description).
"Warp activated," the warp tech said over comms.
Our comm chatter was strictly amongst the crew. We didn't bother Captain Cardenas. She was one of the few who opted for an avatar clone. Must already be missing her body.
The clone was kept in stasis until Vanessa decided she wanted to walk around the ship.
The ship shook back and forth lightly. Danny grabbed the bottle of quafe before it could spill. The soft drink was ridiculously expensive because the Quafe Corporation knew that plenty of capsuleers loved the stuff and would pay ISK for it. They offered a discount for regular people but was still 80,000 Amarrian dollars a bottle. Capsuleers were paying an astonishing 56 ISK a bottle.
The Captain was a billionaire in her previous life according to the dossier, but she'd sold it all, and converted the sum into ISK. The console displayed her ISK balance with Concord Bank for some reason. Billions of dollars became 5000 ISK. The ISK was a very large unit of currency.
The ship started to shake more violently. Danny held onto the console with his left hand while holding the quafe with his other. He never could have afforded a quafe during his previous tour, but now he was making five times more in daily salary.
"Is there something wrong with the warp module?" he asked over comms.
"This warp is taking a long time. Our warp factor is piss poor!" the warp tech responded.
Danny pressed the display button, which showed a visual representation of the warp. They were warping from one jump gate to the next, on their way to the Career training station.
"Capacitor is at 50%," the cap specialist yelled out, her voice contrasted with the mostly male crew. On his last tour there were seven women crew members, this time only two: Cap and Enviro.
Danny put the cap on the quafe, and put it in the corner hoping it wouldn't roll and shake too much and lose the fizz.
He started to walk down the hallway to the back of the frigate, where warp systems operated. The shaking made it hard going. One of the doors had busted open and was swinging back and forth with the vibrations.
He counted to thirty seconds, then to fourty, as he tried to get to the back of the ship.
"Cap to 20%!"
"Warp complete!" the warp tech said in relief.
With the vibrations gone, he walked the rest of the way to the doorway that said "WARP". He opened the door.
"What happened?" Danny asked calmly.
"The warp module on this piece of shit spazzed out. Our warp factor was only 2%. I need to active the jump gate real quick, sir."
The Ni-Kunni man turned back to his controls. He was as short and wirey as most of his bloodline, Danny observed. Very determined however. The man didn't look over his shoulder once as Danny watched him engage the jump gate.
Jumping from gate to gate was much calmer than the warping, at least on this ship. Despite the vast distances between warp gates, it was only a few seconds, and a bit of nausea, and the jump was complete. Crew applicants had to prove that they weren't especially susceptible to nausea, because the strange motion during warp and during jump affected everyone but could cause severe sickness in some people.
"I want to see a better warp this time," Danny said.
The Ni-Kunni turned back for a moment, and then started punching in the jump to the station.
The warp was smooth, either because the ship's warp module was finally working right again, or because a jump from gate to station is only half the distance of a gate to gate jump.
"Nice one," he said anyway.
"I'm Ryjirin, or just Ry if you want," the man said.
"I'm Crewmaster Danny. We don't live by formalities here, so call me what you wish. Look into fixing the warp module when we're in station."
"There's not much to customize or fiddle with when it comes to warp modules, Crewmaster. They're pretty much black boxes to us. But I will improve what I can."
"You're the busiest man on ship most of the time, so get some rest if we end up in station for a while," Danny said. He had been a shield systems tech on the Leviathan. He didn't know much about warp systems.
He had as much to learn as the crew. Command had told him that as an experienced crewmaster he would be able to choose his billets. To learn and to survive, that was his mission.
Friday, February 14, 2014
The Crew (new Eve Online story)
Emrayur III - Moon 1 - Royal Amarr Institute School
The station was not built for them. Automated cranes moved ships into and out of dock. Pneumatic tubes conveyed small items to the ships while robotic walkers conveyed larger ship modules, and tons of minerals or ores.
The new crew were forced to approach the docked frigate by a series of narrow corridors and catwalks, facing only the darkness between them and the bulkhead of the station.
Danny was on his second tour. The rest of the crew were new. That made him the crew's leader. He wasn't the captain though, that would be the capsuleer.
Danny had served with an all crewed ship during his first tour. He had heard many rumors and stories about capsuleers, but he was going to give the captain plenty of slack, and not assume that any rumors were true.
All with the list of his crew members, he had received a dossier on the capsuleer captain that he would be serving. There were not that many women capsuleers but she was one of them. Too liberal for the Amarr elite, she had made some rather unpopular proposals, and been caught in some kind of indiscretion, but what exactly she'd done wasn't clear to Danny.
They reached the crew access hatch of the Impairor. Frigates were only crewed with 8-10 crew members. Battleships had 50-60 serving on-board. Then there were the capital ships, where hundreds, or even upwards of a 1000 crew members served, or so the story was told.
He stopped at the hatch, turning back to the others. There were two weapons techs, a defensive systems specialist, capacitor management specialist, propulsion tech, warp tech, target acquisition specialist, environmental systems tech, scanning tech and himself. He hadn't gotten to know any of them yet.
"A couple notes before we board. This is a capsuleer support tour of duty. I want your instrument reports and data relayed through the system rather than by word of mouth. Our captain is Vanessa Cardenas, a new capsuleer. The Impairor will be our temporary home until we've put in the time to acquire an upgraded frigate. Don't expect to be in a Battleship by next Sunday. The captain needs access to our reports and awareness of our capabilities, and she needs it promptly. This goes especially for armor and shield techs. Any questions?"
"How long till we're out of this mess?" a black haired man at the back said.
"Give it 3 years, crew. It goes faster than you'd think."
Danny punched the red button on the ship's hatch release panel. The standard computer voice: Aura, responded. "Access granted. You may board now."
The station was not built for them. Automated cranes moved ships into and out of dock. Pneumatic tubes conveyed small items to the ships while robotic walkers conveyed larger ship modules, and tons of minerals or ores.
The new crew were forced to approach the docked frigate by a series of narrow corridors and catwalks, facing only the darkness between them and the bulkhead of the station.
Danny was on his second tour. The rest of the crew were new. That made him the crew's leader. He wasn't the captain though, that would be the capsuleer.
Danny had served with an all crewed ship during his first tour. He had heard many rumors and stories about capsuleers, but he was going to give the captain plenty of slack, and not assume that any rumors were true.
All with the list of his crew members, he had received a dossier on the capsuleer captain that he would be serving. There were not that many women capsuleers but she was one of them. Too liberal for the Amarr elite, she had made some rather unpopular proposals, and been caught in some kind of indiscretion, but what exactly she'd done wasn't clear to Danny.
They reached the crew access hatch of the Impairor. Frigates were only crewed with 8-10 crew members. Battleships had 50-60 serving on-board. Then there were the capital ships, where hundreds, or even upwards of a 1000 crew members served, or so the story was told.
He stopped at the hatch, turning back to the others. There were two weapons techs, a defensive systems specialist, capacitor management specialist, propulsion tech, warp tech, target acquisition specialist, environmental systems tech, scanning tech and himself. He hadn't gotten to know any of them yet.
"A couple notes before we board. This is a capsuleer support tour of duty. I want your instrument reports and data relayed through the system rather than by word of mouth. Our captain is Vanessa Cardenas, a new capsuleer. The Impairor will be our temporary home until we've put in the time to acquire an upgraded frigate. Don't expect to be in a Battleship by next Sunday. The captain needs access to our reports and awareness of our capabilities, and she needs it promptly. This goes especially for armor and shield techs. Any questions?"
"How long till we're out of this mess?" a black haired man at the back said.
"Give it 3 years, crew. It goes faster than you'd think."
Danny punched the red button on the ship's hatch release panel. The standard computer voice: Aura, responded. "Access granted. You may board now."
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