You may proceed, Counselor Camus.”
“Ah, the demonstration will be given by Arthur Winslow. He’s familiar with the technology, and has been using it on a regular basis since his mother’s death.”
Maxwell looked at Haug.
“No problem, Your Honor.”
Arthur stood up, adjusted the knot on his tie and walked to the computer, turned, cleared his throat and folded his hands together over his stomach.
“The apparatus behind me houses what we call the AINI Model 10. By AINI we mean ‘Artificially Intelligent-Neural Integration.’ It is basically a combination of a brain that stores data and a learning center that can synthesize new data from old. In other words, it’s an artificial intelligence system with a solid state brain made up of rare-earth-impregnated-carbon-nanotubes.”
Arthur opened two doors at the base of the console, revealing what looked like a solid cube of silver metal. “This is the brain.”
Everyone looked at him blankly, searching for understanding and relevance. “Rubbish,” muttered Blanche, and Arthur heard her.
He glared straight at her, closed the console doors behind him and softly said, “It’s my mother’s brain, now, and if you’ll listen I’ll tell you how that happened.”
Blanche gasped. Randal squeezed her arm, and hushed her.
Arthur blushed, and his voice quavered. “It all started with the Josephson Junction SQUID arrays to map magnetic storms in the brains of epileptics, but as resolution increased, our scientists began to see repeated neural current patterns related to specific thoughts, especially in memory recollection. We were soon down to the neuron level in resolution. Each memory, each thought, is a definite, three dimensional current pattern in real time. It’s like scanning a picture, and this is what AINI does, building up a library of memories and thoughts than can be reassembled by an AI system to satisfy any scenario.”
Arthur’s voice cracked. He seemed to be struggling, and took out a handkerchief to wipe his forehead. His eyes were suddenly quite moist.
“It was my mother who came up with the idea of using AINI to store more than the body of someone you loved when they died.”
Arthur choked, cleared his throat again, and blew his nose with the handkerchief. Blanche rolled her eyes, and sighed.
“She was interested in many things, and she’d had a series of small strokes, little blackouts that frightened her. We were so close. She heard about the freezing process at Advanced Technologies. If something bad happened, we wanted to have hope. Medicine is advancing fast, and then the people at Advanced Tech told us about AINI. They were looking for human subjects for testing. And Mother volunteered her time and her money.”
Arthur took two steps towards Blanche, and pointed a finger at her. “While you were flitting around with your elite social functions, my mother was making major contributions to both science and technology. She funded the entire project, and spent nearly five years of nights and many days under the SQUID array cap, having the neural currents of her own brain mapped and deciphered. She was still doing it the day she—she—”
Arthur paused, and breathed deeply, wiped his eyes with the handkerchief.
“This is sick,” mumbled Blanche, too loudly.
Arthur gave her a look that promised pain and suffering. “Why don’t we just let Mother tell you about it herself,” he said softly.
“Randal, how long do we have to hear this?” said Blanche.
“Your Honor,” began Randal, “I would like to—”
“I was about to give a demonstration relevant to this hearing, and I have the court’s permission to do it,” said Arthur.
“Then do it,” said Judge Maxwell. “I don’t think we need more background information at this time.”
“This is company proprietary information, Your Honor,” said Camus, suddenly standing as Arthur walked back to the apparatus. “We must have a guarantee the details of the demonstration will not go in any form beyond this room.”
“This hearing is closed, ladies and gentlemen. Any information given here, including this demonstration, stays here. Any information leak will prejudice all future litigation, and be cause for breach of privacy. Are we clear on this?”
Everyone nodded in agreement. “Yes, Your Honor,” chorused Randal and Camus.
There was a sudden hum that quickly faded. Arthur sat at the keyboard, fingers playing over the keys. He looked like an organ player sitting there, but this organ had a monitor in front of him, and a wide, black screen stretched like a sail on top of it, between two fisheye cameras. A ball of light had begun to glow, not on the screen but in front of it. Before their eyes a three dimensional view of a room appeared. The walls of the room were white, the floor carpeted in crimson. There was a sofa and two chairs in red leather, a glass coffee table with a vase of red roses in the foreground. Three shaggy weavings in a rainbow of colors hung on the walls.
There was an open doorway in the back of the room. Someone walked past it. A man. Blanche felt her heart skip a beat. Only a glimpse, but the face had seemed familiar.
And then a woman appeared. She was tall, draped in a red silken robe, her gray hair stylishly coifed in swirls framing her face. She could have been fifty, or thirty. She walked like a model, posture erect and defiant, went to the sofa, sat down, crossed her legs and smiled.
Blanche gasped. “Dear God, it’s Helen, the way she looked years ago,” she whispered to Randal.
The woman seemed to look right at her. “Well, they say you should pick an age you like and stick with it. Hello again, Blanche. From that frown on your face I’d say we’re still fighting. Are we?”
The voice was deep and husky, a voice Blanche had been jealous of for over sixty years. Men had been attracted to it like bears to honey. Blanche’s mouth moved, but nothing came out.
“No? Well that’s not what I hear.” The woman’s eyes moved. “Hi, sweetie. I guess this is court, huh?”
“Yes, Mother,” said Arthur.
Judge Maxwell was smiling, and seemed fascinated by the display. “Perhaps you should introduce us to your, ah, demonstration,” he said.
Arthur blushed crimson, and seemed embarrassed by the request. “I’m not quite sure what I—”
“Never mind, dear. I’m quite capable of introducing myself,” said the woman’s floating image. “Officially I’m AINI, but some of the techs like to pervert it by calling me Annie. It’s cute, but inaccurate. In every way, you see, I’m Helen Winslow, based on me the person, but synthesized and evolved into my present form by the AINI system. I’d prefer you call me Helen, because that’s who I am, but I’ll accept Annie if you like.”
“But you are an artificial intelligence system,” said Maxwell.
“Everyone in this courtroom functions like an AI, Your Honor. We store and retrieve memories, we think and learn, and synthesize new ideas from old. The only difference between you and me is our computers. Yours is organic,
