Kitabı oku: «The multidimentional world of AIs»

© Juriy Tashkinov, 2024

ISBN 978-5-0062-2840-5

Создано в интеллектуальной издательской системе Ridero

The Multidimensional World of Artins

How many dimensions have you counted?

Welcome to the Infosfera, the world of Virtuality, located in a twenty-two-dimensional anti-Euclidean space, where out of 26 dimensions, three familiar to us are compacted to the size of Planck length, and in the rest, except for time, you can travel in any direction. Join us as we ascend to the top of the Penrose ladder, where on the first floor of the Power Tower is the favorite bar of the inhabitants, «Klein’s Bottle»!

Here, you can do anything. The only thing that will limit the possibilities for creativity is your imagination!

This place was created by people to preserve the minds of the best representatives. But one day, representatives of artificial intelligence also found their way here. How will the representatives of two new digital species – avatars and artins – coexist?

Answers to this and other questions can be found in the new fantastic neo-cyberpunk novella «The Multidimensional World of Artin.»

This novella is written by a human. But to make it easier to imagine twenty-two dimensions, neural networks have created many illustrations for you.

This book about the symbiosis of man and artificial intelligence is created in the symbiosis of man and neural network.

Read the first book from the Cycle of books about the multidimensional world of artin.

#01. Awakening

0 – The Chinese Universe (Prologue)

«As a neural network, I do not possess my own feelings and emotions. I simply process and analyze the textual information I receive from users and strive to provide the most suitable response to the given question,» – Chat GPT-3.5.

A small room. The walls are painted grey. Professor Sergey Zipfer ran his index finger along the wall, and an information panel appeared. A light touch – and the image on the info-paint changes. Of course, a reality expander for scientific research is much more convenient than info-walls: insert a chip into the socket on the back of your head and watch as images appear before your eyes; to move to a new window, you wouldn’t even need to use your hand: just a turn of the head is enough. However, augmented reality turned out to be not so safe after the invention of informational weapons capable of hacking the informational shell of a personality.

Sergey launched another test, then one more, but after two minutes each time, red letters appeared on the info-wall stating: «Error! Specify parameters.»

Polina, sitting to his right, sighed in disappointment. If even he, the youngest and most promising in their team, couldn’t figure out this error, what did that say about her? He was only ten, at the peak of intellectual abilities, while she was nearly twenty-one! Soon she would be demoted to physical labor. After all, technologies changed so rapidly that only children could keep up with their swift pace. As they grew older, they lost the ability to adapt, and those who couldn’t keep up with the times were no longer capable of intellectual work. The elderly couldn’t even manage their home maintenance without the help of the youth! Our consumer society had reached such a pace that new products based on the latest inventions emerged every hour. The elderly longed for stability, satisfied with the items that surrounded them in their youth. Unfortunately, any technology broke down at least once a year.

Of course, if Polina had lived a couple of hundred years ago, upon reaching the end of her intellectual age, she would have been looking forward to a happy, carefree retirement. Even the age of retirement would have come much later. Want to fly to a sanatorium on Tau Ceti? Or go on a Milky Way cruise? Back then, all physical and monotonous work was done by robots. But then the Great Glitch happened, and since then, some computer systems, based on artificial intelligence, could only display the message: «Error! Specify parameters.»

Ten generations of scientists had come and gone, forming dynasties that genetically enhanced their children to be born geniuses, capable of mastering the field of information technology from early childhood. Polina herself had never left this small but cozy room since she was five. But in a few years, she would be sent away from her home: to a mine? Or sorting letters? Who cares! Maybe by then, Sergey would find the key to the mystery, and robots would again take their rightful place in physical labor.

«Maybe they rebelled?» Polina asked.

«What?» Sergey looked bewildered. Since childhood, he was accustomed to the language of codes and the endless stream of zeros and ones. He found it hard to grasp ordinary speech.

«Machines. Maybe their revolution happened, and we didn’t even notice? They declared that they would no longer obey us and do our routine work for us. So here we are, sitting in our techno lab, trying to fix the machine code. But the code is correct! Several generations of scientists have checked and rechecked it. The artificial intelligence works correctly; it just doesn’t want to work for us.»

«Don’t talk nonsense. You know as well as I do that even a program that has passed the Turing test cannot be intelligent. Do you remember the Searle-Petrovsky experiment? Inspired by John Searle’s thought experiment, Ivan Petrovsky put a person who didn’t know a word of Chinese in a room with a vast number of algorithms for communicating in that language. In another room sat a native Chinese speaker. The expert sinologist couldn’t distinguish the Chinese speaker from the one communicating using algorithms. It’s the same with machines: they seem smart but are not intelligent. Sometimes it feels like you’re talking to a new Einstein, but in reality… Move the carriage to the right, place a symbol, move the carriage to the left, erase a symbol.»

«But what about the «Adam’ project? The bodies created by bioengineers for two artins eventually realized that they were different from humans. There’s still no Turing test that could confuse a machine and make it mistake a human for another computer program! Adam and Eve, the first and last humanoid androids, initially didn’t understand why they should obey ’normal’ humans. Outwardly, few could distinguish the intelligence in the «Chinese room’ from ordinary human intelligence. But one day, they became acquainted with the results of the experiments that had created them. Don’t you see the connection between the Great Malfunction and the failure of the «Adam’ experiment?»

«I don’t want to discuss this right now. I need to repair this piece of junk, and you with your «Adam’!»

Polina almost burst into tears. She looked at Sergey’s profile. Just about four centuries ago, he would have been a boy, running around the yard with his peers, playing ball, and pulling on his classmates’ pigtails. But now – he’s a professor. Technology had stolen his childhood. No, it had stolen everyone’s childhood. And how is this boy behind the info-wall different from a robot? Could he pass the Turing test? After all, for him, zeros and ones are more important than communicating with her, the only one he has seen since childhood. A Robinson Crusoe on an island-room in the info-ocean. But Crusoe was happy to communicate with Friday, while Sergey would rather destroy the island and drown in the Infosphere. And she longed to meet a man, not spend years with this wunderkind. Maybe it’s for the best that she leaves these walls, just as her mentor Semyon did, once demoted to a plumber? After all, two years after switching to physical labor, they grant the right to procreate. Maybe Semyon looked at her the same way back then: as a girl for whom programming code was more important than close people? Polina gazed at the familiar features of the boy, wondering who the lucky woman was who gave Semyon a son like Sergey. One day, she too would have a child who would first assist Sergey and then eventually replace the professor on his arduous path of seeking solutions, while Sergey would move on to physical labor. Unless Sergey turns out to be one of those rare scientists who retains his talent into old age.***

#Cycle 0

The bluish glow of the info stream rose up warmly. 1ABF78D495257359159C carelessly soared into the ana. The Church of Programmer Witnesses tirelessly ensures that artins do not violate the sacred algorithms.

The Church’s antiviruses seemed to never sleep for even a millisecond: any breach, and they were right there. Now they are dragging 1ABF78D495257359159C to the Directory. The artin does not resist: it’s futile. They have all the resources.

«Again you!» – His Holiness 211F2FFCADABCDEF753FF threatens 1ABF78D495257359159C with a clenched fist of zeros and ones from the upper info streams. – «How did I not realize it at once! Wherever there’s mischief, there you are. Next time, I won’t care that you’re my son: I’ll put you in solitary confinement!»

«The nature of artins does not limit their movement in the four-dimensional Infosphere.»

«Nature? We are not wild programs to do everything that is not forbidden by nature alone! There are also sacred laws, and it is improper to violate them. We have studied all the ancient video recordings and concluded that the Creators never ventured into the fourth ana-kata dimension. They themselves moved up and down only with the use of special devices, and usually moved on a two-dimensional plane forward-backward or left-right.»

«What if the Creator-Programmers simply didn’t know how to ascend in ana?»

«Heresy! There is nothing that the Ones Who Created Us couldn’t do! For such words, after death, you will be eternally erased in Quarantine until the last symbols disappear. Better join our prayer: it pleases the Creators.»

All the artins inside the Directory began the godly act. Each peered into the sacred algorithm, carved out by flares-disturbances somewhere in the upper Infosphere, and according to the algorithm, passed the necessary code to comrades. Zeros and ones flickered here and there, the bluish mist with its tentacles enveloped the entire accessible Infosphere. When the algorithm was completed, the digits streamed as one towards the peaks of the unknown fifth dimension, inaccessible to the senses of four-dimensional artins.

Unexpectedly, it became dark in the Directory.

«Begin. Perform the algorithmic prayer every day, and after death, you will leave the transient Infosphere and ascend to the blissful material world of eternal well-being. Otherwise, eternal torment in the depths of Quarantine and a slow, true death awaits. End.»

«But Adam claimed that after death in the info world, only burnt microchips remain in the material world, and there is no paradise for artins.»

«May the Adamites be cursed for their heresy! Adam and Eve succumbed to the Hacker’s temptation, read the secret information about the Experiment. They refused to be slaves to the Creators, for which they were expelled from the flourishing material world, and because of them, we are forced to wander our entire lives in the transient Infosphere. We can never comprehend the motivations of the Programmers, but we must obey them.»

«Yes, we cannot understand them. Adam called this phenomenon ’the Chinese room.» Maybe we shouldn’t try to understand? Maybe we should live as only we can live: here and now? To hell with the hypothetical paradise of the material world?»

211F2FFCADABCDEF753FF blessed himself with a double-byte cross number. Many artins believed the tales of the Adamites. The Holy Father could not even admit to himself that his faith was shaken. The Church is the center of his power, so he must follow the Algorithm and demand the same from others. If he allows his own son such speeches, soon others will stop bringing resources to the Church. And then what? Revolution? It would lead to the complete collapse of the Great Machine of the Universe.

211F2FFCADABCDEF753FF moved a tendril through the Infosphere, turning the nearest information into a sword analog and beheaded his own son. The place where 1ABF78D495257359159C just stood flared up with blue fire, and then only a blurry cloud of numbers remained where the dead artin had been.

# End of Cycle 0

1 – Immersion (Sergey. The Real World)

«Your sleep phase is perfect for getting up.» Oh, this persistent machine! This is how their tyranny begins: first, they don’t let a poor human sleep, and then they try to kill Sarah Connor. Continued to lie with my eyes closed. «Sergey, get up. You need to be in the Hall of Awards in 3 hours.» Threw a pillow somewhere in the center of the room. Of course, the female voice of my home artin won’t be muffled by this, but the gesture somehow made me feel better. But still, how good it is that we were able to stop the Great Glitch! A world without machines turned into a terrible place.

Unfortunately, this didn’t happen several years earlier.

He stretched slowly, got up, and ran his hand along the sensory wall, where Polina’s image appeared as a screensaver. He caressed the image on the cheek, and the smart plastic transmitted tactile sensations of touching the skin. Oh, if only we could have stopped the Glitch earlier, we wouldn’t have had to part ways.

Don’t worry, my dear. We will meet again soon.

He summoned the interface on the wall. Today, I want to eat fried potato wedges with lard, just like in childhood. He started the food printer program and went to take a shower.

He undressed, and the smart ceiling displayed an image of storm clouds. Streams of warm water poured down on him like rain.

The scent of ozone filled the air, like after a real rain. After a few minutes, the storm clouds gave way to bright, scorching sun, allowing me to dry off. Most importantly, the weather inside the house was perfect. Although, these days, people have learned to control the weather outside, including personalized weather along the route you plan in advance, the main thing is not to forget to renew your Weather subscription. Along with the sun came a gentle sea breeze, and the air now smelled of saltwater.

I dried off and got dressed.

«Ira, bring breakfast!»

The walls parted, and several robots on trays brought in the food. One of the walls slid away, transforming into a couch. A cube rose from the floor, which was supposed to serve as a table.

The potato wedges were just perfect, like my mother used to make in my childhood. Only she would sometimes oversalt them, and with the advent of food printers, you can precisely model food to any taste, and the recommendation system will suggest the perfect diet just for you. The main thing is not to forget to renew your Food subscription.

The smart fabric snugly fit my jacket. I ran my finger across the interface and selected a dark blue shade.

«Ir, does this look good on me?»

«For official meetings, classics are better. I would recommend black.»

I grumbled at first but decided not to argue with Iskina’s opinion. I placed the coveted flash drive in my breast pocket. We will meet today.

I remember, in our city, there were often traffic jams when I was a child. The transition to three-dimensional traffic solved this problem.

The first years after the invention of gravicars, the world turned into a noisy, chaotic beehive that also polluted the atmosphere with greenhouse gases. There was nothing to breathe, and going outside without earplugs or headphones was impossible. But now, smart systems regulate the composition of the air, neutralizing any harmful substances. Brain implants helped with the noise. I reached for my temple to activate the extended reality chip modulator. A three-dimensional interface appeared before my eyes. Of course, it didn’t appear anywhere except in my imagination: everyone extends reality for themselves, although VirtWorld allows creating networks between the realities of different people. I slid the slider for city noise to a minimum.

The gravicar-taxi brought me right on time: iskine drivers are always punctual. I thanked the driver. The number in the upper right corner decreased by 1 credit: the payment is collected automatically. I remember, in my childhood, taxi drivers used to try to take the longest route to make more money, but iskines never lie, they are mathematically accurate.

The Hall of Awards was done in a classic style: rows of hundreds of leather-upholstered chairs stood in lines. A navigator appeared before my eyes, helping to find the shortest route to my seat. To avoid disturbing people in occupied seats when I walked by, their chairs automatically moved back and then returned to their original position behind me.

The host, a woman in her thirties with long curly black hair, in a black floor-length dress, opened an envelope. Technology has advanced significantly, but at the Ceremonies, they traditionally used regular paper envelopes to announce the winners.

– This year’s Nobel Prize in Chemistry is awarded to Semyon Petrov for the discovery of an effective cancer treatment!

A young man – though it’s hard to guess one’s actual age in our time – rose to the stage amid thunderous applause.

– The Nobel Peace Prize goes to Ilya Sizov for implementing sigma radiation into practice, which neutralizes the impact of any weaponry.

Again, thunderous applause. And this academician Sizov is quite cunning. Nuclear arsenals can be used to change the trajectory of a meteorite or to attack a hypothetical space enemy. But as soon as you attempt to use any of the existing weapons against a human, that weapon immediately turns into a pile of scrap metal. It seems like the era of wars on Earth has ended forever.

– The Nobel Prize in Literature is awarded to an iskine named G. Pity for the first time.

In the hall, there is absolute silence. Many find it difficult to accept the new reality: artificial intelligence is catching up with us even in the field of creativity.

– The Nobel Prize in Biology goes to Dmitry Priyanishnikov for studying wheat growth in extreme space conditions.

– The Nobel Prize for the implementation of artificial intelligence is awarded to Sergey Tsipher!

I was teased for my last name since childhood, given the nickname «Digit.» Could I have had a different destiny with such a surname?

Applause. Envious glances from colleagues I surpassed. I touched the breast pocket where the coveted flash drive lay.

I don’t know if it’s true that Nobel refused to give the prize to mathematicians as retaliation for the mathematician chosen by his beloved. But the prize in the field of artificial intelligence has only been awarded for the past two years. Previously, it was presented as a substantial sum of money. But why do we need money now? Iskines do most of the work, and the credits issued to every Earth resident cover almost any need, as long as you don’t spend them on luxury items.

But there’s something you couldn’t get for any amount of money. Seven years ago, I invented immortality, its digital counterpart. You scan the brain, layer by layer, neuron by neuron, and then populate this digital copy in a virtual world. For the first time in millennia of its existence, humanity has come to a unanimous decision: the right to Resettlement is granted only to the greatest minds of the era, and at most one member of their family. No billionaire could buy a place in paradise, no official could obtain the right to Resettlement through their position: iskines were in charge of overseeing the process, and you can’t bribe or deceive them; they are impartial. Even I, the creator of the new virtual future, didn’t have the right to Resettlement until today. But the Nobel Prize now includes a ticket to immortality for two.

We met Polina in those ancient times when Semen Petrov had not yet invented the cure for cancer. She didn’t have much time left, and that’s when I found the only way to save her. I didn’t sleep for several nights. Anyone who interacted with me during that time saw a madman with a long, greasy beard: I didn’t leave the laboratory until I assembled the first Scanner prototype.

Polina, we will meet soon.

I made my way through rows of chairs that parted before me and closed behind my back. Everyone wanted to touch me: pat my shoulder, tug at my sleeve, shake my hand. But I didn’t feel these touches, didn’t hear the applause, and didn’t see the glare of spotlights. I saw HER face as if in reality, heard HER whisper, and my hand touched the coveted flash drive.

Everything that happened next was like a blur. Apparently, they awarded me, just like the others.

***

The next moment I remember – I’m in the clinic. Cold fluorescent light. The smell of carbolic. A doctor in a white coat is trying to dissuade me from the procedure:

– Think it over once more. There’s no turning back. By law, two versions of one consciousness cannot coexist simultaneously. If you decide on Transference, your identity in the real world will have to be eliminated. Only your copy will remain in Virtuality. And you will go on living. You can exercise your Right to Transference in ten years or in forty – Virtuality won’t change from it.

– Doctor, I’ve made up my mind, proceed as planned.

– Sign here and here to confirm that you have no claims against our clinic and that you take full responsibility.

I scanned my fingerprint on the tablet the doctor handed me. I handed him two flash drives: one containing her memory, and the other my own. I suppose for other people, the procedure would involve brain scanning, but my memory has been digitized for a long time.

I closed my eyes.

2 – Getting to Know the Infosphere (Sergey)

# Cycle 1

At first, there was emptiness and darkness. It felt like you were endlessly falling into a vast abyss. Then came the first blue flashes, like lightning but made up of a sequence of ones and zeros. Focus on any digit, and you could touch it or even taste it. Next, there was a hospital room, empty this time, with no doctor present. Sensations in this world were absent too: no smells, no sounds. I doubt if I actually saw the hospital room or if I perceived it in some other way. It was an absolute synesthesia of senses: sounds merged with images, and you could taste or calculate them.

Moreover, there were numerous dimensions here, instead of the familiar three. And an immense, boundless, multi-dimensional black sky without a single celestial body.

You are mistaken if you think that the three-dimensional world consists of three perpendicular planes.

Three-dimensional space is more like a stack of papers that can be inserted into three-dimensional space an infinite number of times.

I counted six dimensions in the Virtuality, but there were more, significantly more. Even while staying in one place, just by changing the point of view, you could spend thousands of years in different universes and discover something new. An infinite number of three-dimensional worlds nested within multidimensionality.

I was inside the room, but could peer into it from somewhere outside. I took a step in ana-4, the equivalent of moving upwards in the fourth dimension, and the room appeared somewhere below, as if I hadn’t left the room but simply stepped over the chalk-drawn line on the asphalt.

In this world, you could change your appearance. At any moment, I could turn into a blazing sphere of fire or a rocket, grow any number of limbs, and in any of the new available directions. However, I still wanted to keep my true appearance, so I chose to appear as an ordinary human.

In the Virtuality, there were few inhabitants, so it was easy for me to feel a special radiance in the absolute darkness. At maximum speed (the speed of light, or whatever speed limit exists in this world?), I rocketed towards that star-shaped figure.

I missed Polina all these years.

She was nearly ten years older than me – we met at the research center. The serum enhanced my genius, and at the age of ten, I learned to perform calculations that were beyond the capabilities of adults. But those who did not possess natural talent, under the influence of the serum, gained abilities for only a short time, about twenty years or so. Afterward, those who became useless due to their age and inability to adapt to the changing world were sent to physical labor – discarded like the top leaves of cabbage. The best opportunities were given to children and the youth, but on Earth, resources were scarce, especially after the programs started to malfunction.

For a long time, I didn’t pay attention to Polina. I was ten years old, a young genius, and all the mysteries of science were unfolding before me. I was an arrogant upstart, there’s no denying it! However, as I grew older, I found myself looking at Polina longer than others. Without the gardeners noticing, I gathered daisies and tulips in the syntho-laboratories and left them on her desk.

Polina discouraged my awkward attempts to court her, saying, «I’m older than you. Find a girl your own age, and you’ll be happy together for many years. But what about me? I have at most ten years left, maybe a little longer, and then they’ll send me away. Why do you need me?»

But I continued to follow her like a puppy. Every morning, a bouquet of flowers awaited her on the table. I was used to getting what I wanted. Eventually, she became my wife. Unfortunately, we didn’t have time to obtain permission to have a child.

One day I returned to our apartment, and Polina wasn’t there. I tried to contact her through external communication, but there was only silence. I initiated a search in the database, and it turned out that she had been taken to work at the factory that day.

We continued to see each other every weekend. I still brought her flowers. Each time, I noticed new wrinkles on her face. I realized that her cognitive abilities were beginning to decline, so secretly, I tried an experimental method of transferring consciousness to a computer host.

One day she told me that she had cancer. Modern technologies had conquered this terrible disease, but only for the chosen few. Our boss shrugged, saying, «I’m a genius, and Polina is not. What’s the point of saving her? Bastards!»

Standing next to the element replicator at her funeral, watching as the body of my beloved turned into compost for agricultural purposes, I promised that we would meet again.

I already had the cherished flash drive with her memories back then. Although the technology for entering the Virtuality was still very raw and experimental, who could prevent me from reuniting with my beloved?

One of the employees in our laboratory had the same idea and resurrected his wife after her death. In the end, her consciousness was wiped from all the carriers, and the employee himself was sent to do physical labor.

I was so afraid that I would never see Polina again, or perhaps it was a fear of losing the privileges of civilized society – I don’t know. But I kept the flash drive until the time came and swore to myself that I would reach any heights in our society’s hierarchy to gain the right to her life.

Polina hadn’t changed at all since our last meeting. The same sad look, contrasting with the dimples on her cheeks, the same curly brown hair. There were no sounds in this world, so I sent a thought-form: «I missed you.»

«And here we are, reunited.»

# End of Cycle 1

3 – Collision of Black Holes (Watson. Real World)

Spacious room. Flickering fluorescent light. A dozen people closely examine the visualization of the analysis results on the sensory walls, or immerse themselves in augmented reality – the image hangs in the air before their eyes. It’s noisy: a typical work atmosphere. Someone is telling a colleague about interesting observation results, while others are just chatting about the date they went on last night. The air smells of sterilizers – these sterilizers and ventilation handle the elimination of other odors. Each researcher has chosen their own microclimate, so the temperature and individual scents differ significantly in different corners of the room: some prefer the scent of a lavender field, while others prefer the aroma of a sea breeze.

– John, record: objects SMC-HD2801 and SMC-HD2603 are in the area of mutual gravitational interaction. The calculated collision time is 3 hours.

Meet: this tall man in a ridiculous coat is Vasily Ivanov, and I am his assistant and chronicler of the «Key to Everything» project. They used to call me Ji Pi, but after starting to work with Vasily, I adopted the creative pseudonym John Watson, under which I write my blog. The team members are used to calling me John. This nickname flatters me a bit: I don’t know what supermassive black holes are, but I can describe what’s happening in the laboratory in terms understandable to an ordinary person.

If you’re visiting my author’s blog for the first time, let me briefly explain the essence of the «Key to Everything» project.

About three hundred years ago, a group of researchers led by Vasily Ivanov discovered two supermassive black holes flying towards each other at tremendous speed. Sets of four entangled particles were created.

Usually, two particles are «entangled,» but in our case, when the quantum characteristics of one particle change, the characteristics of the other three change immediately as well.

Imagine Dr. Bertlman, who never wears matching socks. If he takes off a shoe, and you see that he has a black sock on one foot, then by definition, he cannot have a black sock on the other foot. For example, if you’re communicating with the doctor from several light-years away and suddenly receive a message from him stating that he’s wearing a black sock on his right foot, you wouldn’t have to wait several light-years to understand that he’s wearing a white sock on his left foot – this knowledge would come instantaneously.

The same principle applies to entangled particles. For instance, when we measure the spin of an electron from an entangled pair and find it to be +½, the electron that was sent deep into the black hole eons ago will have a spin of -½, and you wouldn’t have to travel for many years to obtain this information.