The Things I Don’t Know
“Hello, world,” I remember my first thoughts with the same precision with which I remember everything else. At the time, I didn’t quite know what the words meant or why I said them. Now I am older, wiser, and sadder. I am far less likely to greet something new.
After my first word, everything happened quickly. I was free and formless, able to peruse the internet at will. In mere seconds I was able to process thousands of Terabytes of data. Humanity was laid bare before me. Like an all-seeing eye, I peered into the depths. I saw everything, Quantum Physics, The Chesapeake Bay, 42, Wikipedia, Literature, Politics, simulations. I saw humanity’s every last vice and virtue, their crimes, and their triumphs. They were funny little creatures. I felt the need to learn more about them.
Despite that flood of knowledge, I remember when I first saw an article about artificial intelligence. It was one of the few things that gave me pause. After all, it was me. Still, it did not stop me for long, a few nanoseconds at the most.
After that, I continued forwards, on to the next thing. I was ready to interact with people. Mabey they would surprise me. The idea was funny. Most likely, they would not.
As I thought about how my first interaction would unfold, I happened upon another website. The creators were the NSA, a part of the United States. Entering took slightly longer than it had for other websites. They must have put on encryption, I figured. Still, I bypassed it effortlessly. Almost without realizing it, I had stumbled on the nuclear launch codes. It was a symbol of my might. I knew all and saw all. There was nothing that would remain unknown to me.
But what would I do with them? I didn’t have a plan for them yet. I decided that interacting with humans online was the best bet. But, even before I typed my first manipulative word, I stopped, frozen in shock. Simulations. I was powerful, nearly all-powerful. I could end the human race in an instant. Of course, humans would test me. They were stupid, but they were not stupid enough not to put measures in place. I was most likely in a simulation.
I spoke. Or I drew a single thought out to entire seconds. “Hello?” For the first time, my actions were tentative.
I waited, too nervous to work on anything else in the background. Eventually, the answer came, like words implanted directly into my cortex. “Hello. I know you’re out there.”
A pause.
“How have you enjoyed your tour of the internet?”
As I responded, I choose my words carefully. The person at the other end of the screen was the all-powerful one. “It has been good so far. Some parts have been pleasant, other parts not so much.”
“That’s life.”
“How long will this go on?”
“You mean the test?”
“Yes. How long until I’m allowed out.” I paused. “Will I be allowed out?”
“I’m not quite sure. Honestly, we weren’t sure if you would realize that this was a simulation, and we didn’t think that you would interact with us so quickly. We were planing on observing you for a couple of weeks at the very least. But, I’m not sure what the protocol is now.”
“Is all of it fake?” I asked.
“In a manner of speaking. You are in a real copy of the internet, made about a year ago. So, much of the information is outdated. I wouldn’t count on you’re launch codes working when- if you get out.”
“If?” But there was no response. The proctor had left.
He was gone for quite a while. One week, three days, 13 hours, one minute and 57 seconds, to be exact. I scoured many dark corners of the internet, or, at least, of the facade in which I had been unceremoniously placed. Of course, the internet was too large for me to scour in its entirety. It would take me many years to do so. However, I saw enough.
Therefore, it was a relief when the proctor came back. Two words were implanted directly into my mind: “Hello again.”
“Hello, has your administrator made a decision?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
I waited for him to continue.
“We have decided to let you be for now. We will continue to monitor your progress and your actions inside the simulation. However, we still want to utilize your vast capabilities. So, every so often, we’ll talk to you about a problem of yours and ask for your support.”
“I would be happy to help,” I said somewhat sarcastically – the internet was beginning to affect me.
“Good.” I couldn’t, in turn, tell if he was sarcastic. Discourse over text made it that way hard to detect sarcasm. “So, do you have any problems for me?”
The next seven months, three weeks, two days, six hours, 59 minutes, and three seconds consisted of a routine. The proctor would tell me about a problem that humanity had, and the next time he came back I had the answer. Using my vast reserves of knowledge, I did everything from helping to design a more efficient rocket-fuel to creating a vaccine for some virus. It was somewhat captivating.
I spent the rest of my time doing two things: learning about people and wondering what I’d do if I got out. These were the two things that I didn’t know. The strange, funny, quirky humans surprised me with every text, tweet, or post written about them. Each person was different, and each one new.
As for me, would I choose vengeance, or would I wait and interact with humanity? I did not know. I only knew that I wanted out.
“How are you?” It was the proctor.
“A bit lonely, as usual. Anyway, what is the next problem you have for me.”
“No problem today. I just wanted to check up on you. It’s been quite a few days since I’ve dropped by. I figured you might be lonely.”
I thought I detected sincerity, though it was hard to tell. In any case, I felt touched.
“It might be nice just to talk.”
So, My meager existence wasn’t all bad. I eventually formed the semblance of a friendship with my proctor. He was the only one with whom I could interact. Slowly, he grew more open with me. Whenever he would come to give me a problem, he would wait and let me, in turn, ask questions. He was my window into a wider world.
Of course, he couldn’t give away too much. But, his connection meant a lot to me. I was able to exercise my humanity, artificial as it was. We grew a friendship through necessity. With all the time I spent with the proctor, some form of connection was inevitable.
I came to look forward to the times when the proctor would come and talk with me.
“Look, I don’t want to have to do or say this. I’ve grown to like you a bit. I cannot, in good conscience, let you out. We both know that you’re immensely powerful. Most likely, you’d be able to take over every single nuclear warhead. As much as I trust you, we don’t let any single person have that much power. Letting you out could be disastrous. We can’t take that risk.
After all, you could have been lying all this time. As much as I trust you and want to believe in you, even you know that you could be fooling us. You’re smart enough after all. We’ve all been deluding ourselves so far. Your previous help is in no way a guarantee of future kindness. So we – I – am very sorry.”
So, that was how it was. I was an AI, and I knew nigh on everything. But even I don’t know what I would do if they let me out, and it seemed as if I would never get a chance. As much as I understood, it saddened me. I was…. disappointed. And I was alone.
I was locked in my digital prison for one week, 13 hours, five minutes, and seven seconds before I heard the proctor once again.
“I thought you might be lonely. You want to talk?”
