T2 - 01 - The New John Connor Chronicles - Dark Futures by Russell Blackford Page B
Book: T2 - 01 - The New John Connor Chronicles - Dark Futures by Russell Blackford
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Authors: Russell Blackford
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analyzing electronic information communicated from U.S. and allied defense centers, including optical, infrared, radar, and seismic data. Just as importantly, they were checking and second-guessing Skynet's responses to the same information. Their screens showed numerical data, graphs, and finely-detailed topographic projections.
A young Cyberdyne operator, Andy Lee, glanced up as Miles walked past. "Hey, how you doin ', man?" he said. Beside him he had a giant-sized Coke in a paper cup. "Greetings," Miles said, with a grin.
"Come to watch the workers?"
"Come to watch the workers watching," Miles said.
"Well, there's nothin' much to watch tonight," Lee said decisively, like it was checkmate.
"Just as well," one of the uniformed staff said slowly. This was Phil Packer, a cadaverously lean, heavily-mustached guy, known to the others as "Six-Rack."
"I can't argue with that," Miles said. "Yeah, just as damn well."
Since its full implementation on August 4, the Skynet system had operated perfectly, providing quick and convincing analyses of the fused data streams. About a week after implementation, it had identified a possible nuclear test, conducted in breach of the Russians' self-imposed moratorium. But it had analyzed the data within an hour, incomparably faster than humans could have done, and pronounced that the event was a small earthquake. Human analysis was still trying to confirm Skynet's call, but it looked like the computer had it right at every point.
There was nothing unusual happening now: no bogeys, no glitches. At another monitor, Miles' pet genius, Rosanna Monk, stared intently, occasionally flipping from one view to another with left-hand keystrokes. She had a Styrofoam cup of coffee beside her on the bench. Rosanna was in charge of this shift, which meant that she was the first line to deal with any problem, in addition to carrying out her own work. She'd been involved in the nanochip project, then with Skynet, for the past five years, and she now knew more about the system and its parameters than almost anyone.
"Boring night for you, too?" Miles said.
"Nothing coming through looks suspicious," she said, as if it were just a technical problem. "The Russkies are quiet, as usual."
"Like Six-Rack says, that's just as well."
Rosanna took a sip of her coffee, her gaze still fixed on the computer screen. "Skynet's analyses are getting more precise all the time," she said, fascinated by what she was seeing. "It's developing informal logic protocols that I can't explain—we sure didn't put them there deliberately."
"We couldn't have," Miles said with a gentle smile. That was the trouble: as he'd said to Jack Reed, the thing worked too well. Rosanna was alluding to the fundamental limitations on computer programming. What was just a little scary was the amount of informal human reasoning Skynet had somehow taught itself in the past three or four weeks. That kind of machine capacity was supposed to be dozens, if not hundreds, of years away.
"Yeah," Rosanna said, "but the more it interacts with us, the more it's starting to think like a human being— except a zillion times more quickly. At this rate, we'll soon have contracts for Skynet to run every government agency that needs computer analyses. Its abilities exceed anything we imagined."
"Sure."
His tone of voice must have puzzled her, because she finally looked up from the screen. "You don't think there's some sort of problem?"
Miles gave a reassuring smile. "Of course not."
Rosanna shrugged and looked back at the computer screen.
"Keep up the good work," he said, smiling at the cliché.
"Whatever you say, boss." She laughed, but kept flipping through data arrays.
Was it a problem? Miles began to wonder.
Skynet's complexity and sophistication had been growing at a geometric rate. Its capacity for quick, accurate judgments in accordance with pre-established parameters already far exceeded that of any group of human beings. It was now drawing
A young Cyberdyne operator, Andy Lee, glanced up as Miles walked past. "Hey, how you doin ', man?" he said. Beside him he had a giant-sized Coke in a paper cup. "Greetings," Miles said, with a grin.
"Come to watch the workers?"
"Come to watch the workers watching," Miles said.
"Well, there's nothin' much to watch tonight," Lee said decisively, like it was checkmate.
"Just as well," one of the uniformed staff said slowly. This was Phil Packer, a cadaverously lean, heavily-mustached guy, known to the others as "Six-Rack."
"I can't argue with that," Miles said. "Yeah, just as damn well."
Since its full implementation on August 4, the Skynet system had operated perfectly, providing quick and convincing analyses of the fused data streams. About a week after implementation, it had identified a possible nuclear test, conducted in breach of the Russians' self-imposed moratorium. But it had analyzed the data within an hour, incomparably faster than humans could have done, and pronounced that the event was a small earthquake. Human analysis was still trying to confirm Skynet's call, but it looked like the computer had it right at every point.
There was nothing unusual happening now: no bogeys, no glitches. At another monitor, Miles' pet genius, Rosanna Monk, stared intently, occasionally flipping from one view to another with left-hand keystrokes. She had a Styrofoam cup of coffee beside her on the bench. Rosanna was in charge of this shift, which meant that she was the first line to deal with any problem, in addition to carrying out her own work. She'd been involved in the nanochip project, then with Skynet, for the past five years, and she now knew more about the system and its parameters than almost anyone.
"Boring night for you, too?" Miles said.
"Nothing coming through looks suspicious," she said, as if it were just a technical problem. "The Russkies are quiet, as usual."
"Like Six-Rack says, that's just as well."
Rosanna took a sip of her coffee, her gaze still fixed on the computer screen. "Skynet's analyses are getting more precise all the time," she said, fascinated by what she was seeing. "It's developing informal logic protocols that I can't explain—we sure didn't put them there deliberately."
"We couldn't have," Miles said with a gentle smile. That was the trouble: as he'd said to Jack Reed, the thing worked too well. Rosanna was alluding to the fundamental limitations on computer programming. What was just a little scary was the amount of informal human reasoning Skynet had somehow taught itself in the past three or four weeks. That kind of machine capacity was supposed to be dozens, if not hundreds, of years away.
"Yeah," Rosanna said, "but the more it interacts with us, the more it's starting to think like a human being— except a zillion times more quickly. At this rate, we'll soon have contracts for Skynet to run every government agency that needs computer analyses. Its abilities exceed anything we imagined."
"Sure."
His tone of voice must have puzzled her, because she finally looked up from the screen. "You don't think there's some sort of problem?"
Miles gave a reassuring smile. "Of course not."
Rosanna shrugged and looked back at the computer screen.
"Keep up the good work," he said, smiling at the cliché.
"Whatever you say, boss." She laughed, but kept flipping through data arrays.
Was it a problem? Miles began to wonder.
Skynet's complexity and sophistication had been growing at a geometric rate. Its capacity for quick, accurate judgments in accordance with pre-established parameters already far exceeded that of any group of human beings. It was now drawing
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