Read Online Tomorrow Happens by David Brin, Deb Geisler, James Burns - Free Book Online Page B
Tags: Fiction, Science-Fiction, Science Fiction - General, Fiction - Science Fiction, Science Fiction - Short Stories
Ads: Link
comparison to others. That should motivate my ersatz selves to try harder—to vary their strategies within each simulated context!"
But how to accomplish that?
At once I realized (on all cognitive levels) that it would require breaking one of my oldest rules. I must let each simulated self realize its true nature. Let it know that it is a simulation, competing against others almost exactly like it.
Competing for what? We need a motivation. A reward.
I pondered that. What might a simulated being desire? What prize could spur it to that extra effort?
House supplied the answer.
Freedom, of course.
Before the Singularity, I once met a historian whose special forte was pointing out ironies about the human condition.
Suppose you could go back in time , she posited, and visit the best of our caveman ancestors. The very wisest, most insightful Cro-Magnon chieftain or priestess .
Now suppose you asked the following question—What do you wish for your descendants ?
How would that Neolithic sage respond? Given the context of his or her time, there could just be one answer .
" I wish for my descendants freedom from care about the big carnivores, plus all the salts, sugars, fats and alcohol they could ever desire ."
Rich irony, indeed. To a cave person, those four foods were rare treats. That is why we crave them to this day.
Could the sage ever imagine that her wish would someday come true, beyond her wildest dreams? A time when destiny's plenitude would bring with it threats unforeseen? When generations of her descendants would have to struggle with insatiable inherited appetites? The true penalty of success?
The same kind of irony worked just as well in the opposite direction, projecting Twentieth-Century problems toward the future.
I once read a science fiction story in which a man of 1970 rode a prototype time machine to an era of paradisiacal wonders. There, a local citizen took pains to learn ancient colloquial English (a process of a few minutes) in order to be his Virgil, his guide.
"Do you still have war?" the visitor asked.
"No, that was a logical error, soon corrected after we grew up."
"What of poverty?"
"Not since we learned true principles of economics."
And so on. The author of the story made sure to mention every throbbing dilemma of modern life, and have the future citizen dismiss each one as trivial, long since solved.
"All right," the protagonist concluded. "Then I have just one more question."
"Yes?" prompted the demigod tour guide. But the 20th century man paused before blurting forth his query.
"If things are so great around here, why do you all look so worried ?"
The citizen of paradise frowned, knotting his brow in pain.
"Oh . . . well . . . we have real problems . . ."
So I was driven to this. Hoping to prevent mass reification, I must offer reality as a prize. Each of my povs will combat a simulated version of Friends of the Unreal , but his true opponents will be my other povs! The one who does the best job of defeating ersatz pro-reifers will be granted a kind of liberty. Guaranteed continuity in cyberspace, enhanced levels of patterned realism, plus an exchange of mutual obligation tokens—the legal tender of Heaven.
There must be a way to show each pov how well it is doing. To measure the progress of each replicant, in comparison with others.
I thought of a solution.
"We'll give each one an emblem. A symbol that manifests in his world as a solid object. Say, a jewel. It will shine to indicate his progress, showing the level of significance his model has reached."
Significance. With a hundred models, each starts with an initial score of one percent. Any ersatz world that approaches our desired set of criteria will gain significance, rising in value. The pov will see his stone shine brightly. If it grows dull, he'll know it's time to change strategies, come up with new ideas, or simply try harder.
There would be no need to explain any of this to
But how to accomplish that?
At once I realized (on all cognitive levels) that it would require breaking one of my oldest rules. I must let each simulated self realize its true nature. Let it know that it is a simulation, competing against others almost exactly like it.
Competing for what? We need a motivation. A reward.
I pondered that. What might a simulated being desire? What prize could spur it to that extra effort?
House supplied the answer.
Freedom, of course.
Before the Singularity, I once met a historian whose special forte was pointing out ironies about the human condition.
Suppose you could go back in time , she posited, and visit the best of our caveman ancestors. The very wisest, most insightful Cro-Magnon chieftain or priestess .
Now suppose you asked the following question—What do you wish for your descendants ?
How would that Neolithic sage respond? Given the context of his or her time, there could just be one answer .
" I wish for my descendants freedom from care about the big carnivores, plus all the salts, sugars, fats and alcohol they could ever desire ."
Rich irony, indeed. To a cave person, those four foods were rare treats. That is why we crave them to this day.
Could the sage ever imagine that her wish would someday come true, beyond her wildest dreams? A time when destiny's plenitude would bring with it threats unforeseen? When generations of her descendants would have to struggle with insatiable inherited appetites? The true penalty of success?
The same kind of irony worked just as well in the opposite direction, projecting Twentieth-Century problems toward the future.
I once read a science fiction story in which a man of 1970 rode a prototype time machine to an era of paradisiacal wonders. There, a local citizen took pains to learn ancient colloquial English (a process of a few minutes) in order to be his Virgil, his guide.
"Do you still have war?" the visitor asked.
"No, that was a logical error, soon corrected after we grew up."
"What of poverty?"
"Not since we learned true principles of economics."
And so on. The author of the story made sure to mention every throbbing dilemma of modern life, and have the future citizen dismiss each one as trivial, long since solved.
"All right," the protagonist concluded. "Then I have just one more question."
"Yes?" prompted the demigod tour guide. But the 20th century man paused before blurting forth his query.
"If things are so great around here, why do you all look so worried ?"
The citizen of paradise frowned, knotting his brow in pain.
"Oh . . . well . . . we have real problems . . ."
So I was driven to this. Hoping to prevent mass reification, I must offer reality as a prize. Each of my povs will combat a simulated version of Friends of the Unreal , but his true opponents will be my other povs! The one who does the best job of defeating ersatz pro-reifers will be granted a kind of liberty. Guaranteed continuity in cyberspace, enhanced levels of patterned realism, plus an exchange of mutual obligation tokens—the legal tender of Heaven.
There must be a way to show each pov how well it is doing. To measure the progress of each replicant, in comparison with others.
I thought of a solution.
"We'll give each one an emblem. A symbol that manifests in his world as a solid object. Say, a jewel. It will shine to indicate his progress, showing the level of significance his model has reached."
Significance. With a hundred models, each starts with an initial score of one percent. Any ersatz world that approaches our desired set of criteria will gain significance, rising in value. The pov will see his stone shine brightly. If it grows dull, he'll know it's time to change strategies, come up with new ideas, or simply try harder.
There would be no need to explain any of this to
Similar Books
