Sixth Iteration

By E. Hughes

Sixth Iteration takes place in the future where robotics and other technology has advanced enough that artificially intelligent machines and robots are in full application and use by the public but are not autonomous (at least, that anyone is aware of). The machines are so integrated into society that it's become difficult to distinguish them fr

• Language: English
• Publisher: Love-LovePublishing
• Release date: Feb 18, 2022
• ISBN: 9781737705239

E. Hughes

E. Hughes is a screenwriter, novelist, and author of A Mediterranean Romance : The Capa Royals, Business as Usual, Disappear, Love, The Sapphire Chronicles: Broken Lair, Infatuation and Beyond the Plain with The Sixth Iteration and a follow up to her first book in the Sapphire series, coming soon.Hughes is also the author of the adorable children's books series, The Penelope books.Her nonfiction books includes, "Starting Your First Patio Garden: A Coffee Book", and "Family in a Time of COVID-19: The Truth About Coronavirus, How to Protect Yourself and Prepare."Hughes is currently writing what she calls fun and flirty suspense and romance novels "with an international flavor"...designed for the modern girl.Her writings includes, poetry, nonfiction, and children's books. You can find her print books via the link below:Contact author: http://ehughesbooks.com/contacthttps://www.amazon.com/s?k=B005KN82SEFind Hughes on the Hollywood Internet Movie Database here:http://www.imdb.com/name/nm3900799/and http://ehughesbooks.com

Book preview

1

The Meeting

St. Claire University Research Center,

 – Moon Bay Island, Maine

October 14, 2058 11:00 A.M:

Representative from Reid Robotics arrives.

The Maine research center at St. Claire University sat more than 10 miles away from the nearest city on a secluded island, accessible only by ferry…a difficult to reach locale where scientists from the university carried out classified research programs for corporations and pharmaceutical companies. I studied indigenous tribes living in remote parts of the Amazon forest…research that was largely ignored by the University in favor of contemporaries in other programs whose work was deemed more important. Contemporaries, whose work generated much needed profit for the school. So it was a shock a few weeks ago when Victor Reid, from Reid Robotics Technologies, called.

I’m an anthropologist, Dr. Reid. What type of research or consulting could I possibly provide for a robotics company? I asked him.

The request seemed counterintuitive. As a cultural and biological anthropologist, I studied people, their physiological origins, culture, habitat and societies…and there I was, negotiating a possible research project with the self-assured British CEO of a billion dollar robotics company.

This project is a proprietary and confidential study of a humanistic nature requiring the utmost discretion, Dr. Andrews. We would prefer to discuss the details in person.

Thank you. I would be interested in learning more about your project.

Very well, then. We can begin immediately. I will dispatch a representative to your facility by the end of the week.

Unfortunately, I won’t be available for a few months yet. I’m in the process of completing another project. My department is not only embarrassingly understaffed, we’re working on an extremely limited budget. It could take some time.

What can I do to expedite the process, Dr. Andrews?

A check for a generous sum of money arrived in the mail two weeks later.

Victor had chosen our research center, a tiny but prestigious university that rested on the crest of a hilly cliffside for its remote location and world-renown secrecy.

With the grant from Reid Robotics I hired an assistant and finished my Amazonian research project ahead of schedule, leaving me with more than enough time to start Victor’s new program. A project so classified, he would only discuss the details in person.

As I stood on the terrace and gazed across the dark windswept terrain towards the shore, a well-built man dressed in sleek dark pants and a fitted sweater arrived at the dock. He was removing luggage from one of the boats when I saw him. I could tell he wasn’t from around here, as he waved a waiting university shuttle adieu, ignoring the swiftest inlet into the island for a more challenging walk up a grassy hill. Rain poured out of the sky, drenching the craggy ocean side as it came down in sheets. I put my glasses on and observed the stranger as he hiked up the shrubbery dotted trail to the center, his powerful gym-toned physique compelling him forward in an effortless continuous motion towards the concrete path. With his impeccably clean-cut look and polished business-like demeanor I knew he was from Reid Robotics. The only visitors we received at the facility were island business owners and workers who relied on the university to make a living. At night, most of them traveled back to the mainland by ferry, arriving in the same manner again at dawn for work at the restaurant, fishing boats, dry cleaners, and mom and pop grocery stores. They were country down-home folks who understood little about our research and backgrounds, but treated university staff like extended family. In the summer, tourists arrived by the hundreds to take advantage of our rustic ocean-side country inns, trails, and the maglev slopes...a summertime magnetic ski resort that ran magnetic ski rails throughout the island parallel to the maglev steam train. There was a toothless variety here in town that I had grown accustomed to, along with the stuffy, unkempt, socially inept scientists in other departments here at the university. As a world traveled anthropologist, I had lived among and studied isolated indigenous tribes around the world. From isolated peoples in green sweltering Brazilian rainforests, the Sentinelese on Sentinel Island, to the top of Ramapo Mountain, I had seen and met all kinds of people. Yet the sum of my life experiences could not have prepared me for the lightning bolt that was Randall Reid. Good lord, I might have combed my hair had I known Reid Robotics would send a man this good-looking.

As he drew closer to the research facility I was able to distinguish some of the finer details of his face. He had perfect facial symmetry that featured a strong jaw-line, high cheekbones, and sculpted eyebrows set a perfect length apart. He was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. His arms were lean and fit, which allowed him to carry several pieces of luggage and a large black briefcase from the shore to the doorstep of the research facility with ease. 

I sprinted from the terrace back to my office, doused my face with water and quickly dried it with a towel. I’d taken the maglev slopes to work and had yet to rinse the dust and soot from my face. My hair was unkempt from the wind, and I wasn’t wearing makeup. So I swept my thick dark hair into a ponytail, grabbed my purse and shuffled through the contents until I found a tube of lipstick. I rubbed on just enough to feel like a woman. 

The intercom buzzed. Flustered by the sooner-than-expected arrival, I frantically stashed the lipstick in a desk drawer, wiped my clammy palms on the front of my lab jacket, and headed for the door. It wasn’t like I was attracted to the man or anything…I hadn’t even seen him up close. But with a multi-million dollar research project on the line I wanted to look professional.

After a final glance in the mirror I buzzed him into the building and watched on the surveillance screen as he pushed the door ajar and quietly shuffled inside with three big pieces of luggage and an expensive leather briefcase. A few minutes later, we met in the corridor down the hall from the lab. I wished I had remembered to take my lab coat off. With its boxy shape, I looked like a dumpy old refrigerator. Unfortunately, the stranger was even more handsome up-close than he was from afar. I gestured for him to leave the bags in the corridor.

He was broad-shouldered with brown wavy hair that curled at the ends, which he wore swept to the side away from his chiseled face. The dark stranger stood about 5’11" to 6’0 tall, with serious brown eyes that looked hazel under the light. Rendered utterly speechless by his ethereal presence, I finally stammered my way through an introduction as Randall Reid patiently waited for me to get my bearings.

 Hi, uh—I’m Dr. Stella Andrews, head researcher for the Anthropology Department here at St. Claire University. You must be Randall Reid, from R-R Technologies. By chance, are you any relation to Victor Reid, if you don’t mind my asking?

You might say that. His perfectly shaped eyes focused on my face with clinical precision. Pleasure to meet you, Dr. Andrews.

His chest filled the space between us so intimately the citrusy smell of his cologne swam into my nostrils. I backed into my desk, knocking a stack of papers onto the floor with my backside as Randall closed in. I felt the genetic responses coded into my DNA react—a flush of dopamine neurotransmitters flooding my brain as the stack of documents fell to the floor at our feet. My heart raced and embarrassment warmed my cheeks. I quickly gathered my errant thoughts. There was no attraction here—only chemical stimuli designed by nature to induce members of the opposite sex into propagating the species. 

I dropped to my knee and frantically swept the paperwork up from the floor. Then with a not-so-cool air, breathed, The pleasure is mine.  I moved a tuft of errant hair from my sweaty forehead and extended my hand as I rose. I could only imagine what he must have thought about my sloppy disorganized office. My heart pounded in my chest so thunderously I swore he could hear it.

Randall took my sweaty hand into his and shook it so firmly, my fingers weakened from the pressure. I withdrew from his grip like it was molten hot.

My apologies… he answered, tilting his head as if weighing my reaction. Sometimes I’m unaware of my own strength.

I smiled.

Most people are, Mr. Reid.

Please. Call me Randall, he insisted, Everyone else does.

Fine. Randall it is. You’re soaking wet. Would you like a towel?

I was already moving across the room to grab one from a nearby cabinet before he could respond. I promptly returned...our eyes connecting as I handed it to him. As I passed the towel to Randall I couldn’t help but notice a single raindrop resting undisturbed on one of his lashes like a tiny drop of dew. Suppressing the urge to wipe it away, I smiled obliquely. His eyes held a look of wonderment that quite matched my own. His clothes were wet and his buttoned down shirt clung to his chest, outlining his muscular physique. I trained my gaze on his face, far too entranced to look away.

What exactly do you do at Reid Robotics? I asked, wondering if his job extended beyond reeling consultants like me in to work for his company.

I’m a mathematician, advanced programming lead, and project manager for our newest product.

I crossed my arms. Which means?

I’m responsible for the programming of our machines, software, and related projects and studies.

He sat his suitcases down.

What type of mathematician are you, may I ask?

Pure mathematics, numerical, and theoretical are my specialties.

I see…would you like to get settled before we begin, Mr. Reid? The shuttle at the pier was supposed to take you to Mrs. Nottingham’s Oceanside Inn, a short ways from here.

My apologies, Dr. Andrews...am I early?

His gaze was other-worldly.

No, no, I stammered, flushing as I stared at his handsome face. I just assumed you were tired after the long trip.

A thoughtful, albeit, inaccurate assessment of my condition. I am quite ready for work, he answered, sizing up the room.

I followed his gaze to a set of outdated computers.

The processors are a little outdated but they’ll get the job done, I offered, feeling slightly embarrassed about the condition of our old-timey machines. Randall looked down at me and smiled.

Yes, but far too old for what we plan to do.

I liked the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he grinned. Even handsome uptight math nerds were starting to get to me. A decade ago our computers were top of the line machines. As long as they continued to work, I continued to use them. Most of my research involved traveling to remote locations…places where time seemed to have stopped. So I relied on rudimentary tools like notepads and handwritten notes for most of my work anyway. In fact, I preferred it, unlike other scientists who demanded the latest technology for just about everything.

Which is? I continued, wondering what we needed to do that would be too advanced for my computers to handle.

Quantum computing. It entails superposition and entanglement to perform various advanced computations. We’ll need it for all of the data input and output. Fortunately, Reid Robotics is willing to upgrade your equipment to meet project standards.

I cracked a smile, shoving my hands into the pockets of my lab coat.

Well...I’m not exactly sure what Quantum computing is, in the context of computer programming, I answered, Or that we’d have access to advanced computer technology in this outdated old lab. I can operate a computer but never cared to learn how they work.

Understood. I’ll be sure to bring you up to speed. He paused, briefly assessing my face. There’s a reason why your location is ideal for the type of training you would need. Why do you think we chose this facility? Lack of accessibility, privacy. No one would suspect what we do here. Or care, for that matter.

And you’re certain you want the Anthropology Department for a quantum computing project?

Our research is of an extremely delicate nature and entails much more than computing. But we can discuss that in detail at a later time.

Good. Shall we begin? Can I offer you any refreshments? I ordered bagels and coffee from the coffee shop.

Randall motioned towards his briefcase, which must have contained his lunch.

Thank you, Dr. Andrews but I must confess, there are few things I find as unsavory as the sort of fast foods Americans eat and drink. Not to mention the revolting state of your fine restaurants.

That’s unfortunate. Dining is one of my many pleasures.

I followed Randall with my eyes as he surveyed the lab with a dissatisfied expression on his face.

I have no need for it. The consumption of cheap unhealthy goods ranks low on my list of priorities.

I’ll keep that in mind, I answered.

I gestured for him to move toward the corridor, eagerly changing the subject as we walked. I used to have an assistant, I explained as we moved down a hall that looked like it would lead us to a hospital morgue, but I ran out of money so we had to let her go. As you can see, I’m a bit tucked away up here in the tower. But I was able to complete my latest research project with some help, thanks to Reid Robotics.

You won’t need an assistant this time. You will be working directly with me. But of course that depends on your willingness to accept our project as head research consultant.

Then you’re staying? I—I, mean here, on Moon Bay Island?

I tried not to sound too hopeful. Not that he’d notice. He was far too beautiful to heed an old lab rat like me. I tried to steal a peek at his ring finger, to no avail. Was he married? In a relationship? Dating? It’s complicated?

With your assistance I aspire to see the project to completion. You will be as integral to this undertaking as the programming itself. In fact, your role as a consultant will be in programming, in areas where I alone lack the mental or philosophical constitution to carry it out.

You seem perfectly equipped for the task to me, I gingerly replied.

We continued to exchange small talk as we walked down the hall, sharing an awkward moment when his hand grazed mine upon reaching our destination. He quickly withdrew his hand then rubbed it with the back of his other hand as if the thought of my touch still lingered.

I pressed a code into a security panel embedded in the wall. The heavy steel door slid open before us and we walked inside. I led Randall down a short hallway to a tiny conference room lit by a panel of cruel fluorescent lights. I closed the microwave, which sat on a nearby countertop, ignoring the fully blown bag of kernels the cleaning lady left there earlier. We sat at a round meeting table before a small bouquet of flowers that might have scented the air if not for the intense smell of popcorn overpowering the room. Still, he continued to rub the back of his hand and I pretended not to notice. I poured a stream of hot steamy java into my cup as he sat his briefcase on the table, opened it, and handed me a stack of documents.

Reid Robotics Confidentiality Agreement… You do understand that the particulars of this research may not be disclosed whether you participate in our program or not and any legal issues arising from said research must be handled in arbitration, and not the court in order to assure confidentiality?

Of course, I answered, resenting the suddenness of his curt tone and the professional distance in his voice.

Can you explain in plain English what the anti-competition clause entails?

You agree not to work with competitors of Reid Robotics, Inc. or companies involved in the technology sector for ten years following the conclusion of our research, Randall replied.

He paused, as if waiting for me to object. This would have been a death knell for someone whose career was in the technology sector.

The likelihood of working for a robotics company again is zero to none, so I’m more than comfortable signing the anti-competition clause. Hell, I was still unsure if I wanted to accept this job.

I scribbled my signature anyway. I was curious. I wanted to know what Randall’s top-secret project was about. I spent the next ten minutes reading, initialing, and signing the confidentiality contracts before I tackled the rest of the paperwork, which assured the technology company that any research I performed would be owned by Reid Robotics Technologies and not the university. Three hours, and a couple of cups of coffee later, all of the documents were finally signed with little conversation with Randall between. We may take a break, if you like… he blurted.

He sounded like an American earlier, until I caught the hint of a British accent in his tone. He examined my reaction closely.

Did I frighten you?

Startled, I answered, clasping my heart. It was so quiet I almost forgot you were here.

I tend to have that effect on people.

I looked away, ignoring his straightforward gaze.

Perhaps you would like to take a break, he suggested again, breaking the awkward silence between us.

I’m hungry, but that can wait. I’d like to learn more about your project. What exactly does it entail?

I pushed the documents across the table to Randall. He scooped them up, swiftly perusing each sheet to ensure my signature was at the bottom of every page before looking up again.

As Victor discussed, the research will be of a humanistic nature. That is, we are building artificially intelligent humanlike men and women.  While we have managed to program reasoning skills into their coding, we lack the programming language to teach them abstractions, like happiness, anger, hope, hate, or love in a language that a machine can comprehend or manifest. At this point, they are programmed to simulate human emotion, but have yet to experience it.

I’m not a computer programmer, Randall, so where do I fit in?

We want you to teach them.

Teach them what?

We want you to teach them how to be human.

My heart leapt at the idea of such a project, but implementing it was a different matter. I wasn’t used to working with robots. At least, the non-human variety. Suddenly I was out of my seat, pacing the room.

As an anthropologist, I study human behavior, culture, language, biology, and the overall development of human beings. I’m not in the business of coding or anthropomorphizing machines.

I understand you are an accomplished linguist.

It is a large part of my work, and academic background, I answered, wondering where he was going with this.

Your background in linguistics is one of the many talents we are interested in utilizing, Dr. Andrews. Your work with the Sentinelese was outstanding. Our benefactor, Dr. Reid is familiar with your body of work, including your thesis, published in Neuroscience Daily ten years ago on the synthesis of language, sensory perception, and thought as major components in the development of self-awareness. You wrote, ‘Language informs thought. Thought informs...‘

The mind and self-awareness. But what does this have to do with computing and robotics? I don’t understand how I can be of use.

As you stated in your thesis, ‘The key to sentience is language.’ Have you ever heard of computational linguistics?

Yes, but it is not an area of expertise.

I beg to differ, Randall replied. Is not the point of research, to learn? To systematically study how things work? Your background in linguistics would be highly valuable to us. As engineers, we rely on computational linguistics to develop artificially intelligent machines that understand human language using deep learning algorithms, biological and artificial neural networks, sophisticated chatterbot technology like AIML… Artificial Intelligence Markup Language, ELIZA, and other forms of language processing programs. A proper understanding of language and how it is used will ensure our robots attain true sentience. We don’t want a robot that simply improvises or mimics, using complex algorithms, but one who truly understands what words mean at its intellectual core. We have made significant advancements in this area. Our A.I. are almost at the level of human intelligence and reasoning. But lack the essence of what makes a human being, human.

I understand. However, I don’t think I’ll be any good at—working with machines. I have so little experience in this area.

Randall propped a hand on his chin and tapped the side of his face with his index finger.

I passed several computers on the way to your conference room. If you can input data into a computer, then surely you will have no problem inputting data into artificially intelligent machines. The only difference, really, is that our machines look like people. The interface will be different…so your hesitation is understandable. But you need only speak to be understood. And if that doesn’t console you, our robots are part-organic.

I inwardly shuddered.

Console me? Quite the opposite, actually. If you don’t mind my being frank, I think it’s a little creepy…

Artificially intelligent machines were already a part of everyday life, from driving unmanned taxi cabs, to unmanned locomotives, checkout lanes in retail stores, to participating in complex medical surgeries. But they still looked like machines, shiny, clunky, and metal. The ones that looked like people had noticeably synthetic skin and unnatural eye motions.  

What is it that bothers you, exactly? Randall asked. That our machines are made of skin, tissue, muscle, and nerve-endings like human beings? They look like people and are capable of feeling what humans feel, physically, at least.

 You mean like an android?

Not like an android. They are androids. M-E-O… Mechanically Enhanced Organisms. We’re designing them to work in several disciplines of science, like space exploration, geosciences, and other fields that require intelligence for tasks that prove too dangerous for a human to perform. For example, if we sent a MEO on an expedition to Mars we would expect it to exhibit the full spectrum of human emotion…this would include complex human emotions such as fear and self-preservation. When in danger, a multi-million dollar computer would recognize the potentiality of termination or imminent destruction and take necessary precautions to survive, temporarily suspending standard protocols. This would of course, allow Reid Technologies’ to protect its assets. On the other hand, ethical issues are bound to arise from such a scenario. Some situations require more than intelligence. They require instinct and the ability to see beyond implementing a task or function.

I took a deep breath.

You mean self-awareness, Dr. Reid. You want your machines to identify as an individual, with his or her own ideas, feelings, experiences, and an innate desire to survive.

Whatever you wish to call it, Randall riposted. His gaze was clinical. We only mean to see the project to completion. Should an unsolvable ethical issue arise, we’ll decide whether it’s reasonable to terminate the program. But for the time being, we would like to move forward. With you.

It’s a frightening concept. What if your machines refuse to terminate? Self-preservation seems to be the point of its design.

If an android attempts to override protocol beyond preserving its safety while on a mission, it will be shut down remotely using what we call a kill switch, and then we’ll start all over again with a new MEO.

Back to the drawing board? You’re asking me to teach your androids free will. Once the machine has attained self- awareness, it becomes more than a product created in some lab. He or she will become a fully realized being. And what will Reid Robotics do then? Hold him against his will? Will he or she become a prisoner until you decide to use the kill switch? If so, I want no part of it.

I can assure you that will not be the case, Dr. Andrews. I may not be an anthropologist but I know programming and I know machines, especially the ones I design. The primary purpose of a computer is to store and process data. So what then, is the purpose of an artificially intelligent machine? Its purpose is to serve humanity. So why would an artificially intelligent machine seek free will when gifted with so much purpose? I suppose it’s the one advantage our androids have, knowing its purpose. The only freedom a MEO shall endeavor to exercise is a series of processes for the purpose of seeing a programmed task to completion. I only mean to see this project to completion, Dr. Andrews, ethical issues notwithstanding. So what do you think? Is this research project something you would be interested in?

Though excitement danced in Randall’s eyes when he spoke, he sat very still, hands clasped together on his lap in bone-chilling fashion.

You weren’t being modest when you said you lacked the philosophical constitution to complete this aspect of your android’s programming.

I rose from my seat at the table, ignoring the heat of his gaze on my back.

"I’m intrigued, but not entirely convinced it’s a good idea. I would hate to

Reviews for Sixth Iteration

[Rashida Ray Brooks · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Absolutely loved it! The ending leaves open the possibility for a sequel. I have many questions.