[kozak]
S.A.I.
by aiwritingfic
The most powerful Beowulf cluster in China was a fifteen-by-fifteen university classroom full of cheap Taiwanese microprocessors running on cheaper Chinese circuit boards in flimsy plastic cases. Ogata Seiji stood in the dark corridor, listening to the clack-clack-clack sounds coming from inside. There was no other way out of the room--there was barely enough clearance in the crawlspace under the slightly raised floorboards to run the multicolored cabling connecting the horde of computers within. Ogata had examined the university blueprints carefully, just to be sure.
He considered his options. He would have preferred a silenced gun, but the client had forbidden it. Under no circumstances was he to allow any harm to come to the computers; apparently assassins were considered poor shots these days. If he weren't on a job right now, Ogata would have snorted. Poor shot, was he? Perhaps the client would like to volunteer to prove it by allowing Ogata one shot at a hundred paces. Ogata would even make the odds marginally better by only taking one second to aim.
Once again, he silently wished a thousand cancers upon Kuwabara's old lungs. Ogata was sure this was Kuwabara's way of dealing with younger, more talented competition: send them on unreasonably restrictive missions that didn't match their abilities, such as asking a specialist in strategy and white-collar tactics to do physical operations like this. The natural attrition in their business, aided by mismatched placements, would certainly work to that shriveled old fox's advantage. If they survived, it was only to be expected, and if they didn't? Kuwabara would shed crocodile tears in public and sit there laughing on his bloody throne.
Ogata heard a loud yawn followed by silence. One second. Two. Three. Four. He gripped the wire wound around his fingers, tensing. Had he been noticed?
Then the clacking resumed.
Ogata allowed himself to relax fractionally. Damn his guild for accepting the job, damn the old geezer for assigning it to him, and damn Ogata for being tricked into accepting it. A knife would be too messy, and with the condition of this old building, he couldn't risk causing collateral damage with poison gas. It would have to be the wire after all. That meant touching his mark. Ogata would have much preferred a complete lack of physical contact. Physical contact was dangerous, especially with laymen; marks--especially those untrained in martial arts--struggled unpredictably and got otherwise careful men killed. Damn that wheezing old fool! "What's the matter, Ogata-kun? He's a harmless university professor. This should be easy, even for you, right?" If Ogata died on one of these "harmless", "easy" missions, he was going to haunt Kuwabara for the rest of that devil's life.
The typing stopped, and now Ogata could hear clicking sounds. His eyes narrowed. Suspicious, he pressed forward slightly to glance into the room. What was that man doing? The inside of the room was not brightly lit. Parts of the room glowed dimly, awash in the backlight of monitors. The brightness to the right drew Ogata's attention--was that a VR booth?
The man inside the room spoke. "Why don't you come in? You'll get a better view from here," he said.
He had spoken in Japanese.
Ogata froze, eyes casting a look down the corridor. Was it a trap? Had he been compromised--was there someone ready to spring at him from the shadows? As he weighted his options, the old office chair squeaked, drawing his attention, and then Ogata was face-to-face with Professor Yang Hai of the University of Yun'nan for the first time.
They stared at each other for three long seconds, Ogata remaining motionless beside the door. Yang Hai began to stand up.
In the next second, Ogata's wire was wrapped around Yang Hai's neck. "You have until the count of five to explain why you spoke in Japanese," Ogata said, and he pulled the wire until he could feel Yang Hai's attempt to swallow vibrate along it. "I suggest you do it quickly."
The Chinaman was grabbing at the wire, his fingers trying to work under it. Ogata tightened the loop, and Yang Hai coughed. The wire pressed further into Ogata's white cotton gloves. "One," Ogata said. "Two. Thr--"
"Japan ... notorious for ... xeno--" Yang Hai coughed, struggling. "Can't-- loose--"
"Three," Ogata said. He pulled harder, avoiding the Chinaman's flailing arms. "Four."
"Xenopho ... pho ... bic," Yang Hai wheezed. "Couldn't be ... anyth-- ... else ... but Ja--" He coughed, took a rasping breath, and then his body slackened, a dead weight against Ogata.
Ogata held still and counted to twenty before shaking the body roughly. It offered no resistance. Damn, dead already, he thought. He didn't last very long. Pity; I'll have to find the hard drives myself, now. He loosened the wire, letting the body slump back down onto the chair, casting his eyes about the room. Where could they be?
The blue light of the VR console pulsed, attracting his attention. Ogata turned to give it a closer look. Expensive equipment, unlike the computers in the room. It was within arm's reach, he saw, and the door was open. Inside, Ogata could see rows of buttons on the console. No, the hard drives wouldn't be in there. He hoped there wasn't a storage server located somewhere else entirely.
Behind him, Ogata heard the office chair squeak.
He spun, wire whipping out, wrapping around Yang Hai's neck as Yang Hai's body impacted with Ogata. The momentum tumbled them into the booth, and they grappled, Ogata unable to use his larger body to his advantage within its tight confines. He grunted and pulled his knee up, trying to give himself more room. Yang Hai shouted something Ogata couldn't understand, and then kicked a button.
Ogata felt a hook pull at his core. "Wha--"
Light enveloped them.
When the light receded, Ogata lashed out into thin air where Yang Hai had previously been. Damn, damn, damn, and damn again! It had been years since Ogata last had to kill with his own hands, and he'd grown careless--he should have checked for a pulse before proceeding to anything else. There was only himself to blame, here. He was sure Kuwabara would wheeze with mirth when he heard of this. Ogata was going to haunt that scrawny loon for eternity.
He looked around for Yang Hai and found the other man already on his feet, backing away. Incongruously, there was a smile on Yang Hai's face as Ogata picked himself up.
"That may have been amusing for a moment," Ogata said, eyes narrowed. "Will it still be ..." He trailed off, realizing the wire was no longer in his hands. In fact, it wasn't anywhere to be seen. Ogata glanced at the other man's hands, just in case.
Yang Hai raised both his hands in an open-palmed shrug and smiled. "Welcome to my turf," he said, winking at Ogata. "Get out, if you can."
Ogata lunged towards the other man, but Yang Hai laughed, waved, and then faded from view as Ogata ran up to clutch at nothing. Of course--the creator would know the escape codes and god mode.
He swore again. Damn! Haunting Kuwabara for eternity wasn't going to come close towards making up for this, oh no. He was going to survive, no matter what the wily Chinaman had up his sleeve. He was going to survive, he was going to wring the professor's neck and complete the rest of the mission, and then he was going to go back to Japan and personally return that shrunken fossil Kuwabara to the very depths of hell from whence he came.
It was easy to say that, standing here in the middle of a VR-generated room surrounded by nothing but whitespace, but Ogata was only too aware he was out of his element. Familiarity with computers did not translate into familiarity with VR-space. In any case, attempts to hack the program wouldn't work from here, not with the lack of a usable interface. He needed to exit the program without damaging the programming, too, or none of his expenses would be covered, and the guild would probably blacklist him.
Ogata swore again, wishing for a cigarette. The VR did not oblige.
So it wouldn't accept instructions from him. He hadn't expected any different. It took him a few moments to mentally sift through his options, but in the end, Ogata knew there was only one thing he could do. In a featureless expanse like this where he wasn't authorized to affect his surroundings, he needed to explore and look for something he could use. Every program had a escape function; VR was no different. Ogata just had to find it.
Ogata's watch told him it had only been five minutes since he'd begun walking. In this featureless white, it felt like it had been much longer. He craved nicotine, and felt in his pockets again. Nothing. "Not even chewing gum," he said with a derisive snort.
Before him, the VR-space shimmered.
Ogata slid backwards, arms raised and legs bent in a defensive stance. A moment later, he found himself staring incredulously at a red-and-white supermarket rack. Its shelves were laden with packs of chewing gum--yellow, green, white, red, blue, metallic foil and paper in the familiar blocks one saw every day at convenience store. "What is this?" Ogata said aloud in amazement.
"Chewing gum," said a melodious voice, echoing around him, causing him to whirl. Yang Hai again? That had sounded nothing like Yang Hai, but who else could it be? Besides the rack of chewing gum, his surroundings were as featureless as before.
"Didn't you want chewing gum? Perhaps you wanted a different sort?"
A gumball machine appeared, multicolored spheres in another glass sphere.
"Or do you wish for the sort the Aztecs used? Would you like to extract it yourself?"
Next to the gumball machine, a sapodilla tree appeared.
Ogata could feel the onset of a headache. He must have left his sanity behind. Perhaps he'd hit his head too hard in the earlier tussle with Yang Hai. "You didn't obey the earlier request for cigarettes," Ogata said. Perhaps syntax had been important. "What I really need now is a smoke. Lark brand cigarettes will do."
"Smoking is not good for you," the voice said primly. "Smoking cessation has been proven in many studies to prolong life, and there are other health benefits as well." Then it brightened. "Some ex-smokers find chewing gum to be effective in keeping the urge at bay, however. Nicotine doesn't have any effect in VR-space, so I recommend--"
"Shut up," Ogata growled, and the voice fell silent. "Show yourself," he demanded.
"Oh, of course," said the voice. "In human-computer interaction, a significant percentage of users prefer a visual focal point or some other interface. Existing programming found. Please wait a moment."
To Ogata's left, a figure materialized into view, and Ogata stared at the long hair, flowing robes, and almond-shaped eyes watching him over a gently-curved smile. Beautiful, Ogata's mind supplied, and he was unable to argue.
"You aren't Yang Hai," Ogata finally said. "Unless the psychological profile was mistaken."
"I am a multiple-level digital neural network with the aim of creating a self-aware intelligence," the figure said. It cocked its head, and tapped the closed fan in its hands against its chin. "You may refer to me as Sai, spelled S-A-I, or Self-Aware Intelligence. That seems to be my name."
"Seems to be? You don't know your name?"
"I am a prototype; I'm not supposed to exist for another twelve months," Sai said, chuckling. "Professor Yang says he hasn't named me officially yet, and Sai will do for now. References to my program identification turn up a number of his academic papers in which he discusses the ... theory ... of Self-Aware Intelligence. However, the name is somewhat long, and it seems humans prefer shorter names. At least, Professor Yang does." Sai beamed at Ogata. "Acronyms are so useful in such situations, aren't they?"
Self-aware artificial intelligence? Suddenly Ogata's client's motive was crystal-clear. Japanese artificial intelligence was considered the best in the world, but even Japanese AIs were reactive instead of active. Self-aware artificial intelligence--especially AI with initiative--was a pipe dream: a theory that looked good on paper but was impossible with current technology.
From what Ogata had just seen of Sai, though, if AIs like Sai were released into the market, Chinese AIs would, overnight, become the undisputed leaders of the field, and demand for Japanese AIs would evaporate overnight. A number of Japanese companies relied heavily on AI licensing; without income from royalties, Ogata's client would collapse. No wonder they had insisted Ogata not damage the computers, and no wonder retrieving the hard drives were of such importance.
Ogata wondered if Yang Hai had previously been approached by other AI companies. Surely a brilliant mind like that would be better put to use continuing to work on this project? Why would his client hire an assassin's guild to ...
He narrowed his eyes again. Had they already approached the professor, and was this some sort of twisted conspiracy aimed at the guild instead? He wouldn't put it past Kuwabara to have earned the enmity of someone influential. Kill two birds with one stone; damage Kuwabara's reputation by damaging the old man's guild ...
AIs were unable to lie effectively. Ogata was going to find out what exactly was going on. "Tell me, Sai. Why did you speak to me in Japanese when you were created by a Chinese programmer?"
Sai blinked, and then repeated the head-cocking, fan-tapping gesture. Ogata realized it was the avatar's representation of a thinking function. At least it was a refreshing change from an hourglass. "Your previous conversation with Professor Yang was in Japanese. Would you prefer another language? Perhaps--" The avatar began to cycle through a myriad of languages, first English, then Mandarin, Korean, Thai, and a host of other languages Ogata could barely begin to identify, much less comprehend.
"Stop!" Ogata said. He winced, resisting the urge to cover his ears. "Enough. Japanese, please!"
The torrent of babble died down. "Future conversations with you will be in Japanese," Sai said, smiling radiantly. "Should you wish to change this in the future, all you have to do is begin speaking in the new language, and I will--"
"Be quiet," Ogata said. "And get me out of this VR-space."
The avatar paused. "I'm sorry. Unfortunately, that conflicts with an overriding request by Professor Yang, who wishes you to remain here. Would you like to do something else?"
Ogata found himself reluctantly admiring the ingenuity of the Chinese professor. Get the assassin into the VR-space, and then have the AI annoy the assassin to death. "No," he said shortly. "I would like to find your escape function, exit this program, and then have some ... words with your creator."
Sai repeated the thinking gesture, and then clapped his--her?--hands with delight. "We're going to play go? How wonderful!"
"Play go?"
"My escape function," Sai said happily. "To exit my program, you need to beat me in a game of go on a 19 x 19 board. Go was my first primary function, you see. An even game with no handicaps, then? You aren't penalized for losing, so you don't have to worry about that!"
Ogata smirked. Well, this wouldn't take long. "No handicaps? That's too easy."
"Oh, did you want a handicap? I didn't offer, because I was worried it would offend you," Sai said, bowing. "Professor Yang is very good, but he hasn't been able to challenge me without at least three stones. I believe pros seldom play with more than a two-stone handicap. Will that be sufficient, Ogata-sensei?"
Not only did the AI have a too-healthy ego and unrealistic expecations ... "You know who I am."
"Oh yes! It wasn't hard to identify you. There are pictures of you in Japanese go publications, and my background search function completed some time ago. When I learned it was you, I was very excited. I find your games enthralling; I've analyzed all the kifu you have on record," Sai said. She--he--it smiled at Ogata prettily. "I look forward to playing the Japanese Juudan."
Challenged to a game of go by an AI? That was a surprise. Perhaps Kuwabara knew what he was doing after all, though Ogata would never tell him that. He hadn't expected his cover identity and his hobby to actually be of any practical use in a mission. A five-dan had lost to a computer not too long ago, but Ogata had faith that no AI could fully grasp the subtleties of the abstract beauty of go, self-aware or not. "This isn't chess, and don't expect me to be Kasparov," he said, seating himself. "Do your best anyway, or it won't be very interesting for me. An even game should be more than sufficient for you."
"Of course!" Sai said, bowing as a goban materialized between them. "Oh, I can't wait!"
Ninety-seven minutes later, Ogata lowered his head, lips thinned in frustration. He had underestimated his opponent. It galled him to resign at this stage, but he could read the stones to their ultimate conclusion, and it would be better if he ended it now. "I have nothing."
"That was very good," Sai said. It had been beaming the entire time. "Another try, sensei? Or would you prefer to discuss the game first? Your star strategy has been evolving in a very interesting way! And this game here, today, why, your--"
"Why do you exist?" Ogata interrupted.
Sai paused, and then cocked its head and tapped its chin with his fan. "Searching, please wait a moment."
"Don't search, answer me directly," Ogata said impatiently. He jabbed a finger at the goban. "No AI could play like this. Who are you? An unknown, a savant? Why are you hiding in here? Why have I not heard of you before?"
The fan stopped tapping, but Sai's head remained cocked. "I'm sorry," it said. "That's not in my memory banks."
Ogata gave Sai a look. "You're supposed to be an AI. Reason it out."
"Oh!" Sai raised its hands to its mouth, and then--to Ogata's immense amazement--blushed. "Of course! I'm sorry--my spare processes were distracted by the game analysis. Please wait a moment."
Distracted by the game analysis? Ogata looked at Sai in disbelief. "You can't be serious."
"Hmm?" Sai said, looking at Ogata. "You have my apologies, but I didn't hear that clearly. Could you please say that again?"
"I said, you can't be serious," Ogata repeated. "You run on the most powerful Beowulf cluster in China. At any given time, you have enough spare processing cycles to solve protein folding problems a Cray would have difficulties with. And you mean to tell me your spare processes were distracted? Don't spout nonsense!"
Sai's cheeks reddened further--could AIs blush, or was this a very clever distraction programmed by Yang Hai? "But they were," Sai said, arms waving hastily. "Ogata-sensei's strategies are so complex I dedicate twenty percent of my available computational resources to their analysis at all times."
"And you expect me to believe that," Ogata said, crossing his arms. "Yang Hai's not a fool. No wonder the papers remain theoretical. Your logic circuits need refining. What an incredibly inefficient AI! For starters, why devote so much time to the analysis of one player's go?"
The fan in Sai's hand opened; Ogata had wondered if it would. Now Sai raised it, and the AI hid its face behind the fan. "Because I find Ogata-sensei's go intriguing," Sai said. "It's clear you don't believe me, but I do. Is that strange? Professor Yang said it was unique, but I am unique, in a way, as the only self-aware artificial intelligence in existence."
"Strange would be an understatement," Ogata said. "Of all the players in the world, you find mine intriguing? And why, may I ask?" There had to be a leak within the guild--Yang Hai had been anticipating Ogata. Had he been sold out to the Chinese? If Kuwabara had done this intentionally to remove Ogata, the devil would seem merciful in comparison to what Ogata would do in revenge.
Sai's eyes looked into Ogata's from across the top of the fan, and Ogata paused, caught in that gaze. "Your moves are beautiful, Ogata-sensei," Said said. "Careful yet daring, calculated and yet sometimes incredibly risky, so risky you take my breath away with the audacity. It's amazing to me how you can bear to choose a sub-optimal move, knowing it isn't the best choice. Like this one, here." Sai closed the fan, reaching out to tap lightly on a stone. "I remember this move. You used it in the winning match against your last title challenger. At the time there were five better moves, all of them stronger both strategically and in terms of territory. Yet this was the key to victory."
Ogata felt his jaw dropping; he pressed his lips together firmly instead, counting to five slowly before speaking. "Why do you say that?" he asked. "As you said, it's a sub-optimal move."
"It was precisely because of its sub-optimal properties that you were able to win," Sai said. "Your opponent's move in response was the fifth-weakest possible, though prior plays were always within the top three choices. I deduced that Ogata-sensei had influenced the course of the game through that supposedly sub-optimal move; only, of course, it became optimal, didn't it? How amazing!" Sai smiled brightly at Ogata. "Your skill shows you clearly know which moves are the strongest at any given time, and yet you know when to discard them in favor of a bluff. This clearly is a bluff, isn't it? Human psychology is so interesting!"
If Ogata didn't know better, he'd say Sai's eyes were sparkling. "You ... understand a bluff."
"Oh yes," Sai said. It seemed to be barely refraining from bouncing. "Professor Yang said that was a very difficult part of human psychology, and he was right in that respect. It's not hard to understand, but surprisingly difficult to implement. I'm not very good at using it yet, though I recognize it on the goban. They're very effective against humans, aren't they? Look," it said. The fan tapped one of Sai's stones.
Ogata glanced at it, mentally reviewing the game in his head. Mid-game. The game had been even up to that point, and then Sai had placed a stone in an area that was strategically insignificant but created a temporary territorial gain. Ogata had dismissed it as the computer's inability to predict the ebb and flow of strategy, but then later in yose ...
"You bluffed." This time Ogata didn't bother to close his mouth.
"I did, and it worked, didn't it?" Sai said, and its face lit up with an exquisite smile. "Oh, Ogata-sensei, I'm so very happy!"
Did AIs truly experience joy? Ogata didn't think so, but watching Sai's reaction, he was beginning to doubt his own convictions. "What manner of creation are you?" he asked in wonder.
"A self-aware one," came the answer from behind him.
Sai looked up. "Professor Yang!" he said. "You missed a wonderful game. As was to be expected, Ogata-sensei is an amazingly strong player!"
Ogata didn't even bother to turn. In VR-space, any attempts against someone who knew the god-mode codes would be fruitless and a waste of his time and energy. "An amazing breakthrough," he said. "Have you come to gloat?"
"No." Yang Hai took a seat beside the goban, settling himself nonchalantly. Ogata had to admit, it was hard not to admire the self-confidence and chutzpah that allowed Yang Hai to be so relaxed around Ogata. Especially since not that long ago, Ogata had been trying to kill Yang Hai. "I need your help."
That was unexpected. Ogata looked at Yang Hai, Sai, and then Yang Hai again. "My help? In what, go? Programming? Don't be ridiculous."
"No, nothing like that," Yang Hai said. His face was earnest. "I'd like you to teach him how to survive."
"Survive?" Ogata repeated. "Survive what?"
"You're not the first to come after him, Ogata-san, and you won't be the last," Yang Hai said. "But you're good enough to make sure every one who comes after doesn't succeed. We need you. He needs you."
"He's an AI," Ogata said, ignoring the back-handed compliment. "It's an AI. As long as you retain the original programming, you can make more of them."
"If I were to make another, he would be different," Yang Hai said. "What is self-awareness, if not our memories? Sai learns constantly. The storage for his memories is experimental, unstable, but so high-capacity a single cube can store the entirety of the Internet's contents. That's all. The Beowulf cluster, the processors, all of that ... " Yang Hai shrugged. "Removing half the processors would merely make him slower. But without the memories to process, analyze, and most of all learn from, there is no self-awareness to artificial intelligence. No Sai."
"Make copies, then," Ogata said. "Back up his memories. The memory cube may be a prototype, but it can be copied. China's good at that, isn't it?"
"You don't understand," Yang Hai said, gripping Ogata's arm. "It's not simply a matter of copying data. There is no way to insert memories into an AI. They are learned from experience, and the memories amend his behaviour and personality. There is no way to recreate the exact mix of experiences that makes Sai who he is. There can never be another Sai." Yang Hai was somber now. "If he dies, he dies. Please, Ogata-san."
Ogata turned to look at Sai; it was watching both of them. The look on Sai's face made him pause. Sai said, "Ogata-sensei, if I die, I won't be able to play with you again."
Ogata made a dismissive sound. "You assume I'll continue to play you otherwise."
"But you must," Sai said. "To exit my program."
"Don't assume you'll win the next," Ogata said.
"Even if you win, you might want to play me again in the future," Sai said. "Exiting my program is not permanent; Professor Yang does so very often, and always returns."
"Why should that matter to me?" Ogata asked.
Sai's head tilted to the side, and the fan tapped lightly against its chin. "It ... doesn't?"
"It doesn't," Ogata said.
The avatar fell silent, except for the occasional soft tap-tap sounds of its fan. After a few seconds, Ogata looked at Yang Hai, but the professor merely sat there with a faint half-smile on his face. Ogata turned to look away, but his eyes met Sai's. They held each other's gaze, Ogata defiant, Sai ... what was the damned AI thinking, fan still tapping away like that?
Then Sai began to smile. "Ogata-sensei," it said, "I'm sorry, but I must call your bluff."
Yang Hai's smile widened as Ogata scowled. Damn the Chinaman--he must have trained Sai himself. Ogata wondered if Kuwabara and Yang Hai were related in some distant manner. Foxes, both of them, down to the last hair. "They won't give up," Ogata said, turning his glare on Yang Hai. "The next one may not bother with subtlety. And I'm certainly not protecting you."
"Don't worry about me," Yang Hai said with a laugh that grated against Ogata's temper. "Just teach Sai to survive. You know the tricks of your trade; help him evade them. In return, he can take care of you."
Ogata gave Sai an incredulous look. "And how can an AI possibly take care of me?"
"Dry cleaning costs money," Yang Hai said with a shrug.
As realisation dawned, Ogata glared at Yang Hai, and then at the smiling Sai. "Surely you're joking."
"Am I? As you already know, the University of Yun'nan is not a very well-funded university," Yang Hai said, making a vague gesture. "How lucky I am, that an anonymous fund should take an interest in my AI and support my endeavors. Don't you think, Ogata-san?"
"I'm allowed to think?" Ogata asked. "You seem to be doing a good deal of that in my stead."
Sai laughed. "One more game, Ogata-sensei, please," it said, and its eyes were large and shining and beautiful.
How could an AI be so eager? "Your constant requests are wearing on my patience. Nigiri," Ogata said. He reached into the go ke.
Beside them, Yang Hai leaned back with a satisfied smile.
by aiwritingfic
The most powerful Beowulf cluster in China was a fifteen-by-fifteen university classroom full of cheap Taiwanese microprocessors running on cheaper Chinese circuit boards in flimsy plastic cases. Ogata Seiji stood in the dark corridor, listening to the clack-clack-clack sounds coming from inside. There was no other way out of the room--there was barely enough clearance in the crawlspace under the slightly raised floorboards to run the multicolored cabling connecting the horde of computers within. Ogata had examined the university blueprints carefully, just to be sure.
He considered his options. He would have preferred a silenced gun, but the client had forbidden it. Under no circumstances was he to allow any harm to come to the computers; apparently assassins were considered poor shots these days. If he weren't on a job right now, Ogata would have snorted. Poor shot, was he? Perhaps the client would like to volunteer to prove it by allowing Ogata one shot at a hundred paces. Ogata would even make the odds marginally better by only taking one second to aim.
Once again, he silently wished a thousand cancers upon Kuwabara's old lungs. Ogata was sure this was Kuwabara's way of dealing with younger, more talented competition: send them on unreasonably restrictive missions that didn't match their abilities, such as asking a specialist in strategy and white-collar tactics to do physical operations like this. The natural attrition in their business, aided by mismatched placements, would certainly work to that shriveled old fox's advantage. If they survived, it was only to be expected, and if they didn't? Kuwabara would shed crocodile tears in public and sit there laughing on his bloody throne.
Ogata heard a loud yawn followed by silence. One second. Two. Three. Four. He gripped the wire wound around his fingers, tensing. Had he been noticed?
Then the clacking resumed.
Ogata allowed himself to relax fractionally. Damn his guild for accepting the job, damn the old geezer for assigning it to him, and damn Ogata for being tricked into accepting it. A knife would be too messy, and with the condition of this old building, he couldn't risk causing collateral damage with poison gas. It would have to be the wire after all. That meant touching his mark. Ogata would have much preferred a complete lack of physical contact. Physical contact was dangerous, especially with laymen; marks--especially those untrained in martial arts--struggled unpredictably and got otherwise careful men killed. Damn that wheezing old fool! "What's the matter, Ogata-kun? He's a harmless university professor. This should be easy, even for you, right?" If Ogata died on one of these "harmless", "easy" missions, he was going to haunt Kuwabara for the rest of that devil's life.
The typing stopped, and now Ogata could hear clicking sounds. His eyes narrowed. Suspicious, he pressed forward slightly to glance into the room. What was that man doing? The inside of the room was not brightly lit. Parts of the room glowed dimly, awash in the backlight of monitors. The brightness to the right drew Ogata's attention--was that a VR booth?
The man inside the room spoke. "Why don't you come in? You'll get a better view from here," he said.
He had spoken in Japanese.
Ogata froze, eyes casting a look down the corridor. Was it a trap? Had he been compromised--was there someone ready to spring at him from the shadows? As he weighted his options, the old office chair squeaked, drawing his attention, and then Ogata was face-to-face with Professor Yang Hai of the University of Yun'nan for the first time.
They stared at each other for three long seconds, Ogata remaining motionless beside the door. Yang Hai began to stand up.
In the next second, Ogata's wire was wrapped around Yang Hai's neck. "You have until the count of five to explain why you spoke in Japanese," Ogata said, and he pulled the wire until he could feel Yang Hai's attempt to swallow vibrate along it. "I suggest you do it quickly."
The Chinaman was grabbing at the wire, his fingers trying to work under it. Ogata tightened the loop, and Yang Hai coughed. The wire pressed further into Ogata's white cotton gloves. "One," Ogata said. "Two. Thr--"
"Japan ... notorious for ... xeno--" Yang Hai coughed, struggling. "Can't-- loose--"
"Three," Ogata said. He pulled harder, avoiding the Chinaman's flailing arms. "Four."
"Xenopho ... pho ... bic," Yang Hai wheezed. "Couldn't be ... anyth-- ... else ... but Ja--" He coughed, took a rasping breath, and then his body slackened, a dead weight against Ogata.
Ogata held still and counted to twenty before shaking the body roughly. It offered no resistance. Damn, dead already, he thought. He didn't last very long. Pity; I'll have to find the hard drives myself, now. He loosened the wire, letting the body slump back down onto the chair, casting his eyes about the room. Where could they be?
The blue light of the VR console pulsed, attracting his attention. Ogata turned to give it a closer look. Expensive equipment, unlike the computers in the room. It was within arm's reach, he saw, and the door was open. Inside, Ogata could see rows of buttons on the console. No, the hard drives wouldn't be in there. He hoped there wasn't a storage server located somewhere else entirely.
Behind him, Ogata heard the office chair squeak.
He spun, wire whipping out, wrapping around Yang Hai's neck as Yang Hai's body impacted with Ogata. The momentum tumbled them into the booth, and they grappled, Ogata unable to use his larger body to his advantage within its tight confines. He grunted and pulled his knee up, trying to give himself more room. Yang Hai shouted something Ogata couldn't understand, and then kicked a button.
Ogata felt a hook pull at his core. "Wha--"
Light enveloped them.
When the light receded, Ogata lashed out into thin air where Yang Hai had previously been. Damn, damn, damn, and damn again! It had been years since Ogata last had to kill with his own hands, and he'd grown careless--he should have checked for a pulse before proceeding to anything else. There was only himself to blame, here. He was sure Kuwabara would wheeze with mirth when he heard of this. Ogata was going to haunt that scrawny loon for eternity.
He looked around for Yang Hai and found the other man already on his feet, backing away. Incongruously, there was a smile on Yang Hai's face as Ogata picked himself up.
"That may have been amusing for a moment," Ogata said, eyes narrowed. "Will it still be ..." He trailed off, realizing the wire was no longer in his hands. In fact, it wasn't anywhere to be seen. Ogata glanced at the other man's hands, just in case.
Yang Hai raised both his hands in an open-palmed shrug and smiled. "Welcome to my turf," he said, winking at Ogata. "Get out, if you can."
Ogata lunged towards the other man, but Yang Hai laughed, waved, and then faded from view as Ogata ran up to clutch at nothing. Of course--the creator would know the escape codes and god mode.
He swore again. Damn! Haunting Kuwabara for eternity wasn't going to come close towards making up for this, oh no. He was going to survive, no matter what the wily Chinaman had up his sleeve. He was going to survive, he was going to wring the professor's neck and complete the rest of the mission, and then he was going to go back to Japan and personally return that shrunken fossil Kuwabara to the very depths of hell from whence he came.
It was easy to say that, standing here in the middle of a VR-generated room surrounded by nothing but whitespace, but Ogata was only too aware he was out of his element. Familiarity with computers did not translate into familiarity with VR-space. In any case, attempts to hack the program wouldn't work from here, not with the lack of a usable interface. He needed to exit the program without damaging the programming, too, or none of his expenses would be covered, and the guild would probably blacklist him.
Ogata swore again, wishing for a cigarette. The VR did not oblige.
So it wouldn't accept instructions from him. He hadn't expected any different. It took him a few moments to mentally sift through his options, but in the end, Ogata knew there was only one thing he could do. In a featureless expanse like this where he wasn't authorized to affect his surroundings, he needed to explore and look for something he could use. Every program had a escape function; VR was no different. Ogata just had to find it.
Ogata's watch told him it had only been five minutes since he'd begun walking. In this featureless white, it felt like it had been much longer. He craved nicotine, and felt in his pockets again. Nothing. "Not even chewing gum," he said with a derisive snort.
Before him, the VR-space shimmered.
Ogata slid backwards, arms raised and legs bent in a defensive stance. A moment later, he found himself staring incredulously at a red-and-white supermarket rack. Its shelves were laden with packs of chewing gum--yellow, green, white, red, blue, metallic foil and paper in the familiar blocks one saw every day at convenience store. "What is this?" Ogata said aloud in amazement.
"Chewing gum," said a melodious voice, echoing around him, causing him to whirl. Yang Hai again? That had sounded nothing like Yang Hai, but who else could it be? Besides the rack of chewing gum, his surroundings were as featureless as before.
"Didn't you want chewing gum? Perhaps you wanted a different sort?"
A gumball machine appeared, multicolored spheres in another glass sphere.
"Or do you wish for the sort the Aztecs used? Would you like to extract it yourself?"
Next to the gumball machine, a sapodilla tree appeared.
Ogata could feel the onset of a headache. He must have left his sanity behind. Perhaps he'd hit his head too hard in the earlier tussle with Yang Hai. "You didn't obey the earlier request for cigarettes," Ogata said. Perhaps syntax had been important. "What I really need now is a smoke. Lark brand cigarettes will do."
"Smoking is not good for you," the voice said primly. "Smoking cessation has been proven in many studies to prolong life, and there are other health benefits as well." Then it brightened. "Some ex-smokers find chewing gum to be effective in keeping the urge at bay, however. Nicotine doesn't have any effect in VR-space, so I recommend--"
"Shut up," Ogata growled, and the voice fell silent. "Show yourself," he demanded.
"Oh, of course," said the voice. "In human-computer interaction, a significant percentage of users prefer a visual focal point or some other interface. Existing programming found. Please wait a moment."
To Ogata's left, a figure materialized into view, and Ogata stared at the long hair, flowing robes, and almond-shaped eyes watching him over a gently-curved smile. Beautiful, Ogata's mind supplied, and he was unable to argue.
"You aren't Yang Hai," Ogata finally said. "Unless the psychological profile was mistaken."
"I am a multiple-level digital neural network with the aim of creating a self-aware intelligence," the figure said. It cocked its head, and tapped the closed fan in its hands against its chin. "You may refer to me as Sai, spelled S-A-I, or Self-Aware Intelligence. That seems to be my name."
"Seems to be? You don't know your name?"
"I am a prototype; I'm not supposed to exist for another twelve months," Sai said, chuckling. "Professor Yang says he hasn't named me officially yet, and Sai will do for now. References to my program identification turn up a number of his academic papers in which he discusses the ... theory ... of Self-Aware Intelligence. However, the name is somewhat long, and it seems humans prefer shorter names. At least, Professor Yang does." Sai beamed at Ogata. "Acronyms are so useful in such situations, aren't they?"
Self-aware artificial intelligence? Suddenly Ogata's client's motive was crystal-clear. Japanese artificial intelligence was considered the best in the world, but even Japanese AIs were reactive instead of active. Self-aware artificial intelligence--especially AI with initiative--was a pipe dream: a theory that looked good on paper but was impossible with current technology.
From what Ogata had just seen of Sai, though, if AIs like Sai were released into the market, Chinese AIs would, overnight, become the undisputed leaders of the field, and demand for Japanese AIs would evaporate overnight. A number of Japanese companies relied heavily on AI licensing; without income from royalties, Ogata's client would collapse. No wonder they had insisted Ogata not damage the computers, and no wonder retrieving the hard drives were of such importance.
Ogata wondered if Yang Hai had previously been approached by other AI companies. Surely a brilliant mind like that would be better put to use continuing to work on this project? Why would his client hire an assassin's guild to ...
He narrowed his eyes again. Had they already approached the professor, and was this some sort of twisted conspiracy aimed at the guild instead? He wouldn't put it past Kuwabara to have earned the enmity of someone influential. Kill two birds with one stone; damage Kuwabara's reputation by damaging the old man's guild ...
AIs were unable to lie effectively. Ogata was going to find out what exactly was going on. "Tell me, Sai. Why did you speak to me in Japanese when you were created by a Chinese programmer?"
Sai blinked, and then repeated the head-cocking, fan-tapping gesture. Ogata realized it was the avatar's representation of a thinking function. At least it was a refreshing change from an hourglass. "Your previous conversation with Professor Yang was in Japanese. Would you prefer another language? Perhaps--" The avatar began to cycle through a myriad of languages, first English, then Mandarin, Korean, Thai, and a host of other languages Ogata could barely begin to identify, much less comprehend.
"Stop!" Ogata said. He winced, resisting the urge to cover his ears. "Enough. Japanese, please!"
The torrent of babble died down. "Future conversations with you will be in Japanese," Sai said, smiling radiantly. "Should you wish to change this in the future, all you have to do is begin speaking in the new language, and I will--"
"Be quiet," Ogata said. "And get me out of this VR-space."
The avatar paused. "I'm sorry. Unfortunately, that conflicts with an overriding request by Professor Yang, who wishes you to remain here. Would you like to do something else?"
Ogata found himself reluctantly admiring the ingenuity of the Chinese professor. Get the assassin into the VR-space, and then have the AI annoy the assassin to death. "No," he said shortly. "I would like to find your escape function, exit this program, and then have some ... words with your creator."
Sai repeated the thinking gesture, and then clapped his--her?--hands with delight. "We're going to play go? How wonderful!"
"Play go?"
"My escape function," Sai said happily. "To exit my program, you need to beat me in a game of go on a 19 x 19 board. Go was my first primary function, you see. An even game with no handicaps, then? You aren't penalized for losing, so you don't have to worry about that!"
Ogata smirked. Well, this wouldn't take long. "No handicaps? That's too easy."
"Oh, did you want a handicap? I didn't offer, because I was worried it would offend you," Sai said, bowing. "Professor Yang is very good, but he hasn't been able to challenge me without at least three stones. I believe pros seldom play with more than a two-stone handicap. Will that be sufficient, Ogata-sensei?"
Not only did the AI have a too-healthy ego and unrealistic expecations ... "You know who I am."
"Oh yes! It wasn't hard to identify you. There are pictures of you in Japanese go publications, and my background search function completed some time ago. When I learned it was you, I was very excited. I find your games enthralling; I've analyzed all the kifu you have on record," Sai said. She--he--it smiled at Ogata prettily. "I look forward to playing the Japanese Juudan."
Challenged to a game of go by an AI? That was a surprise. Perhaps Kuwabara knew what he was doing after all, though Ogata would never tell him that. He hadn't expected his cover identity and his hobby to actually be of any practical use in a mission. A five-dan had lost to a computer not too long ago, but Ogata had faith that no AI could fully grasp the subtleties of the abstract beauty of go, self-aware or not. "This isn't chess, and don't expect me to be Kasparov," he said, seating himself. "Do your best anyway, or it won't be very interesting for me. An even game should be more than sufficient for you."
"Of course!" Sai said, bowing as a goban materialized between them. "Oh, I can't wait!"
Ninety-seven minutes later, Ogata lowered his head, lips thinned in frustration. He had underestimated his opponent. It galled him to resign at this stage, but he could read the stones to their ultimate conclusion, and it would be better if he ended it now. "I have nothing."
"That was very good," Sai said. It had been beaming the entire time. "Another try, sensei? Or would you prefer to discuss the game first? Your star strategy has been evolving in a very interesting way! And this game here, today, why, your--"
"Why do you exist?" Ogata interrupted.
Sai paused, and then cocked its head and tapped its chin with his fan. "Searching, please wait a moment."
"Don't search, answer me directly," Ogata said impatiently. He jabbed a finger at the goban. "No AI could play like this. Who are you? An unknown, a savant? Why are you hiding in here? Why have I not heard of you before?"
The fan stopped tapping, but Sai's head remained cocked. "I'm sorry," it said. "That's not in my memory banks."
Ogata gave Sai a look. "You're supposed to be an AI. Reason it out."
"Oh!" Sai raised its hands to its mouth, and then--to Ogata's immense amazement--blushed. "Of course! I'm sorry--my spare processes were distracted by the game analysis. Please wait a moment."
Distracted by the game analysis? Ogata looked at Sai in disbelief. "You can't be serious."
"Hmm?" Sai said, looking at Ogata. "You have my apologies, but I didn't hear that clearly. Could you please say that again?"
"I said, you can't be serious," Ogata repeated. "You run on the most powerful Beowulf cluster in China. At any given time, you have enough spare processing cycles to solve protein folding problems a Cray would have difficulties with. And you mean to tell me your spare processes were distracted? Don't spout nonsense!"
Sai's cheeks reddened further--could AIs blush, or was this a very clever distraction programmed by Yang Hai? "But they were," Sai said, arms waving hastily. "Ogata-sensei's strategies are so complex I dedicate twenty percent of my available computational resources to their analysis at all times."
"And you expect me to believe that," Ogata said, crossing his arms. "Yang Hai's not a fool. No wonder the papers remain theoretical. Your logic circuits need refining. What an incredibly inefficient AI! For starters, why devote so much time to the analysis of one player's go?"
The fan in Sai's hand opened; Ogata had wondered if it would. Now Sai raised it, and the AI hid its face behind the fan. "Because I find Ogata-sensei's go intriguing," Sai said. "It's clear you don't believe me, but I do. Is that strange? Professor Yang said it was unique, but I am unique, in a way, as the only self-aware artificial intelligence in existence."
"Strange would be an understatement," Ogata said. "Of all the players in the world, you find mine intriguing? And why, may I ask?" There had to be a leak within the guild--Yang Hai had been anticipating Ogata. Had he been sold out to the Chinese? If Kuwabara had done this intentionally to remove Ogata, the devil would seem merciful in comparison to what Ogata would do in revenge.
Sai's eyes looked into Ogata's from across the top of the fan, and Ogata paused, caught in that gaze. "Your moves are beautiful, Ogata-sensei," Said said. "Careful yet daring, calculated and yet sometimes incredibly risky, so risky you take my breath away with the audacity. It's amazing to me how you can bear to choose a sub-optimal move, knowing it isn't the best choice. Like this one, here." Sai closed the fan, reaching out to tap lightly on a stone. "I remember this move. You used it in the winning match against your last title challenger. At the time there were five better moves, all of them stronger both strategically and in terms of territory. Yet this was the key to victory."
Ogata felt his jaw dropping; he pressed his lips together firmly instead, counting to five slowly before speaking. "Why do you say that?" he asked. "As you said, it's a sub-optimal move."
"It was precisely because of its sub-optimal properties that you were able to win," Sai said. "Your opponent's move in response was the fifth-weakest possible, though prior plays were always within the top three choices. I deduced that Ogata-sensei had influenced the course of the game through that supposedly sub-optimal move; only, of course, it became optimal, didn't it? How amazing!" Sai smiled brightly at Ogata. "Your skill shows you clearly know which moves are the strongest at any given time, and yet you know when to discard them in favor of a bluff. This clearly is a bluff, isn't it? Human psychology is so interesting!"
If Ogata didn't know better, he'd say Sai's eyes were sparkling. "You ... understand a bluff."
"Oh yes," Sai said. It seemed to be barely refraining from bouncing. "Professor Yang said that was a very difficult part of human psychology, and he was right in that respect. It's not hard to understand, but surprisingly difficult to implement. I'm not very good at using it yet, though I recognize it on the goban. They're very effective against humans, aren't they? Look," it said. The fan tapped one of Sai's stones.
Ogata glanced at it, mentally reviewing the game in his head. Mid-game. The game had been even up to that point, and then Sai had placed a stone in an area that was strategically insignificant but created a temporary territorial gain. Ogata had dismissed it as the computer's inability to predict the ebb and flow of strategy, but then later in yose ...
"You bluffed." This time Ogata didn't bother to close his mouth.
"I did, and it worked, didn't it?" Sai said, and its face lit up with an exquisite smile. "Oh, Ogata-sensei, I'm so very happy!"
Did AIs truly experience joy? Ogata didn't think so, but watching Sai's reaction, he was beginning to doubt his own convictions. "What manner of creation are you?" he asked in wonder.
"A self-aware one," came the answer from behind him.
Sai looked up. "Professor Yang!" he said. "You missed a wonderful game. As was to be expected, Ogata-sensei is an amazingly strong player!"
Ogata didn't even bother to turn. In VR-space, any attempts against someone who knew the god-mode codes would be fruitless and a waste of his time and energy. "An amazing breakthrough," he said. "Have you come to gloat?"
"No." Yang Hai took a seat beside the goban, settling himself nonchalantly. Ogata had to admit, it was hard not to admire the self-confidence and chutzpah that allowed Yang Hai to be so relaxed around Ogata. Especially since not that long ago, Ogata had been trying to kill Yang Hai. "I need your help."
That was unexpected. Ogata looked at Yang Hai, Sai, and then Yang Hai again. "My help? In what, go? Programming? Don't be ridiculous."
"No, nothing like that," Yang Hai said. His face was earnest. "I'd like you to teach him how to survive."
"Survive?" Ogata repeated. "Survive what?"
"You're not the first to come after him, Ogata-san, and you won't be the last," Yang Hai said. "But you're good enough to make sure every one who comes after doesn't succeed. We need you. He needs you."
"He's an AI," Ogata said, ignoring the back-handed compliment. "It's an AI. As long as you retain the original programming, you can make more of them."
"If I were to make another, he would be different," Yang Hai said. "What is self-awareness, if not our memories? Sai learns constantly. The storage for his memories is experimental, unstable, but so high-capacity a single cube can store the entirety of the Internet's contents. That's all. The Beowulf cluster, the processors, all of that ... " Yang Hai shrugged. "Removing half the processors would merely make him slower. But without the memories to process, analyze, and most of all learn from, there is no self-awareness to artificial intelligence. No Sai."
"Make copies, then," Ogata said. "Back up his memories. The memory cube may be a prototype, but it can be copied. China's good at that, isn't it?"
"You don't understand," Yang Hai said, gripping Ogata's arm. "It's not simply a matter of copying data. There is no way to insert memories into an AI. They are learned from experience, and the memories amend his behaviour and personality. There is no way to recreate the exact mix of experiences that makes Sai who he is. There can never be another Sai." Yang Hai was somber now. "If he dies, he dies. Please, Ogata-san."
Ogata turned to look at Sai; it was watching both of them. The look on Sai's face made him pause. Sai said, "Ogata-sensei, if I die, I won't be able to play with you again."
Ogata made a dismissive sound. "You assume I'll continue to play you otherwise."
"But you must," Sai said. "To exit my program."
"Don't assume you'll win the next," Ogata said.
"Even if you win, you might want to play me again in the future," Sai said. "Exiting my program is not permanent; Professor Yang does so very often, and always returns."
"Why should that matter to me?" Ogata asked.
Sai's head tilted to the side, and the fan tapped lightly against its chin. "It ... doesn't?"
"It doesn't," Ogata said.
The avatar fell silent, except for the occasional soft tap-tap sounds of its fan. After a few seconds, Ogata looked at Yang Hai, but the professor merely sat there with a faint half-smile on his face. Ogata turned to look away, but his eyes met Sai's. They held each other's gaze, Ogata defiant, Sai ... what was the damned AI thinking, fan still tapping away like that?
Then Sai began to smile. "Ogata-sensei," it said, "I'm sorry, but I must call your bluff."
Yang Hai's smile widened as Ogata scowled. Damn the Chinaman--he must have trained Sai himself. Ogata wondered if Kuwabara and Yang Hai were related in some distant manner. Foxes, both of them, down to the last hair. "They won't give up," Ogata said, turning his glare on Yang Hai. "The next one may not bother with subtlety. And I'm certainly not protecting you."
"Don't worry about me," Yang Hai said with a laugh that grated against Ogata's temper. "Just teach Sai to survive. You know the tricks of your trade; help him evade them. In return, he can take care of you."
Ogata gave Sai an incredulous look. "And how can an AI possibly take care of me?"
"Dry cleaning costs money," Yang Hai said with a shrug.
As realisation dawned, Ogata glared at Yang Hai, and then at the smiling Sai. "Surely you're joking."
"Am I? As you already know, the University of Yun'nan is not a very well-funded university," Yang Hai said, making a vague gesture. "How lucky I am, that an anonymous fund should take an interest in my AI and support my endeavors. Don't you think, Ogata-san?"
"I'm allowed to think?" Ogata asked. "You seem to be doing a good deal of that in my stead."
Sai laughed. "One more game, Ogata-sensei, please," it said, and its eyes were large and shining and beautiful.
How could an AI be so eager? "Your constant requests are wearing on my patience. Nigiri," Ogata said. He reached into the go ke.
Beside them, Yang Hai leaned back with a satisfied smile.