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Authors: Edward M Lerner
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seat. "Like the traveling salesman problem: selecting the best route between the cities of the sales territory.
That problem tries to minimize total travel time subject to meeting delivery dates, or avoiding road congestion, or other conditions."
Linda nodded encouragement and waited.
"Finding the exit of a maze is a simple goal; getting there with a minimum of wasted effort is an optimization problem. The locations of walls are constraints. I guess I'm saying a maze is an archetype for many practical problems. If we can evolve practical maze runners, it could mean that we can evolve programs to answer many real-world questions."
"Exactly." She made note of the young man's insight. "And the ability of the AL programs to solve those real-world problems will continue to evolve, to improve."
Her sixty-second warning began flashing. "Remember: Problems five and eight from the back of chapter nine are due next session." An on-site camera showed Jeff Ferris sitting behind and one seat to the right of Takagawa, keying frenetically. Doubtless that activity involved some asinine video game.
The juxtaposition of two such different students led her to end on a philosophical note. "A thought for the day, ladies and gentlemen. Only the fittest will survive the upcoming exam."
CHAPTER 10
Theodore Roosevelt Island, a wooded oasis on the Potomac River, can be accessed only by footbridge from an isolated parking lot on the Virginia shore. The island is much favored by local elementary schools as a picnic stop on the way to or from field trips into the District of Columbia. Today, three busloads of the little monsters had gobbled their sack lunches and were now running amok under the resigned eyes of teachers and parent helpers.
Jim Schulz ruefully shook his head. Why had he allowed himself to be talked into coming here on a weekday? He had lived in northern Virginia quite long enough to know better. His supposed companion on this outing, Doug Carey, stood nearby, absorbed with his new camcorder. Occasionally the ground apes quieted enough for Jim to hear the motorized hum of the camera panning and zooming. Jim's attempts at conversation were impatiently shushed.
Jim's thoughts wandered until an approaching petite figure drew his attention. The woman was casually dressed in a tan sweater with pushed-up sleeves, peg-legged jeans with artfully tom knees, and scuffed sneakers. Her light brown hair was done up in a French braid from which a few endearing strands had escaped. Nice. He had no idea how he had attracted her attention—but why question his good fortune?
"Beware the Cyclops," she said.
"Cyclops" must refer to the lens of the camcorder. Damn it, she knew Doug.
Doug caught the Odyssey reference, too, although he continued shooting whatever ground-ape vignette had caught his eye. "Who goes there?"
"No man."
" That's for certain," Jim had to interject. He gave her an exaggerated once-over that made her blush.
"Don't harass the staff, please." Doug finished whatever he had been shooting, then lowered to his side the hand holding the video camera. Robohand. "Morning, Cheryl."
"Hi, boss. I assume your parting directive doesn't apply in neutral territory."
Doug nodded. To Jim, he explained, "After we finished the proposal from hell, I told everyone I didn't want to see them for a week. This one"—he tipped his head toward Cheryl— "really worked her tail off."
Jim stepped to the side to gaze pointedly at her nicely rounded rear. "It looks fine to me."
"I asked you to quit that."
"Thanks, Doug, but I can fend for myself." She turned to
Jim. "I know you from somewhere, you wannabe dirty old man. I recognize those sideburns and the mustache. Oh yeah"—she brightened—"you're in Doug's training videos. Why is it I've never seen you at the office?"
Doug snickered. "Jim? Work at BSC? The man can't tell a computer from a kumquat. He nets in from a VR arcade near his house in Alexandria."
That incredulity was a
That problem tries to minimize total travel time subject to meeting delivery dates, or avoiding road congestion, or other conditions."
Linda nodded encouragement and waited.
"Finding the exit of a maze is a simple goal; getting there with a minimum of wasted effort is an optimization problem. The locations of walls are constraints. I guess I'm saying a maze is an archetype for many practical problems. If we can evolve practical maze runners, it could mean that we can evolve programs to answer many real-world questions."
"Exactly." She made note of the young man's insight. "And the ability of the AL programs to solve those real-world problems will continue to evolve, to improve."
Her sixty-second warning began flashing. "Remember: Problems five and eight from the back of chapter nine are due next session." An on-site camera showed Jeff Ferris sitting behind and one seat to the right of Takagawa, keying frenetically. Doubtless that activity involved some asinine video game.
The juxtaposition of two such different students led her to end on a philosophical note. "A thought for the day, ladies and gentlemen. Only the fittest will survive the upcoming exam."
CHAPTER 10
Theodore Roosevelt Island, a wooded oasis on the Potomac River, can be accessed only by footbridge from an isolated parking lot on the Virginia shore. The island is much favored by local elementary schools as a picnic stop on the way to or from field trips into the District of Columbia. Today, three busloads of the little monsters had gobbled their sack lunches and were now running amok under the resigned eyes of teachers and parent helpers.
Jim Schulz ruefully shook his head. Why had he allowed himself to be talked into coming here on a weekday? He had lived in northern Virginia quite long enough to know better. His supposed companion on this outing, Doug Carey, stood nearby, absorbed with his new camcorder. Occasionally the ground apes quieted enough for Jim to hear the motorized hum of the camera panning and zooming. Jim's attempts at conversation were impatiently shushed.
Jim's thoughts wandered until an approaching petite figure drew his attention. The woman was casually dressed in a tan sweater with pushed-up sleeves, peg-legged jeans with artfully tom knees, and scuffed sneakers. Her light brown hair was done up in a French braid from which a few endearing strands had escaped. Nice. He had no idea how he had attracted her attention—but why question his good fortune?
"Beware the Cyclops," she said.
"Cyclops" must refer to the lens of the camcorder. Damn it, she knew Doug.
Doug caught the Odyssey reference, too, although he continued shooting whatever ground-ape vignette had caught his eye. "Who goes there?"
"No man."
" That's for certain," Jim had to interject. He gave her an exaggerated once-over that made her blush.
"Don't harass the staff, please." Doug finished whatever he had been shooting, then lowered to his side the hand holding the video camera. Robohand. "Morning, Cheryl."
"Hi, boss. I assume your parting directive doesn't apply in neutral territory."
Doug nodded. To Jim, he explained, "After we finished the proposal from hell, I told everyone I didn't want to see them for a week. This one"—he tipped his head toward Cheryl— "really worked her tail off."
Jim stepped to the side to gaze pointedly at her nicely rounded rear. "It looks fine to me."
"I asked you to quit that."
"Thanks, Doug, but I can fend for myself." She turned to
Jim. "I know you from somewhere, you wannabe dirty old man. I recognize those sideburns and the mustache. Oh yeah"—she brightened—"you're in Doug's training videos. Why is it I've never seen you at the office?"
Doug snickered. "Jim? Work at BSC? The man can't tell a computer from a kumquat. He nets in from a VR arcade near his house in Alexandria."
That incredulity was a
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