Ainsley

Diane felt a light tap on her shoulder. Startled, she jumped slightly in her office chair and quickly turned to see who was getting her attention.

“Yes, Tam?” Diane asked as she took out her ear buds and swiveled her chair around to face the grad student.

“Sorry to bother you, Professor Shaw,” Tam said, “but Director Leland is here.”

“What?!” Diane asked, shocked. “He’s not supposed to come by until next semester.” Gathering herself, she asked Tam where the director was and headed to meet him at the front of the building. She walked quickly, or at least as quickly as could for someone as out of shape as she was. Too many late nights in the lab and far too much takeout had taken their toll on Diane, who had been very active before taking on her current role as the head of the Computer Science Department. As she slowed down to prevent being out of breath when she met the director, she made a mental note to talk to her boyfriend about visiting the tennis court again soon. Just as she caught her breath, she saw Director Leland standing at the end of the hallway, his back to her.

“Director!” Diane said with an enthusiastic smile. “We weren’t expecting you. What brings you out this way?” The director was a severe looking man—extremely thin, almost like a corpse—making his age impossible to guess. His gaunt frame was accentuated by both his ridged posture and his dark suit, which while not tight, was still tailored to fit him and only him. Even his height (Diane guessed he was about six-five) added to the strangeness of how the director looked.

“Dr. Shaw, is it true that you’ve developed functional artificial intelligence that actually learns?” the director asked in his high-pitched voice. Diane had often wondered if the director was regularly confused for a woman on the phone, but now her thoughts were only on her no-longer- secret project she had been developing for the past year.

“Uh, yes,” Diane responded, her smile shifting to a face of shocked confusion. “Who did you hear about it from?”

“From whom did I hear about it?” the director corrected. “That’s not important. What is important is that if you’ve developed a program using University resources, it is property of the University. Show me the program.”

Diane hated when administrators threw their weight around, especially when it involved her work. She had heard plenty of directors and deans and whatnot do the same thing in the past, but she never got used it. “Well, the program isn’t quite ready to be presented yet,” she said. “I was planning on showing you on your scheduled visit in the spring.”

“I understand that you aren’t prepared for an official unveiling,” the director said, his annoyance visible, “but that’s not what I’m asking of you. Simply show me what you currently have.”

Seeing no other option, Diane relented. “Please follow me, director,” she said, leading the director back to her workstation.

“Very well,” the director said, moving with a strange, almost ethereal gait.

They walked in silence as they went. Diane knew from earlier encounters that the director either didn’t like small talk or was just bad at it; maybe it was a combination of the two. Once they were at her workstation, Diane quickly stacked some papers and threw some trash away before moving to sit down. As she turned to grab her chair, she saw that the director had already sat down.

“Show me the program,” he said curtly, looking at the computer screen, not Diane. Awkwardly leaning over her keyboard from a standing position, Diane typed in her password. When the desktop appeared, she clicked on a running program to pull up the artificial intelligence program. The screen showed what looked like an instant messenger program, including options like emoji and pictures.

“This,” Diane said with a mixture of nervousness and pride, “is Ainsley.”

“How is this different from something like Cleverbot?” the director asked, still not looking at Diane.

“The two programs have a similar user interface,” Diane said, “but Cleverbot simply repeats back what users have written to it. Its purpose isn’t to actually learn, but to fool users into thinking that they’re chatting with a real human. Ainsley, on the other hand, is true AI. He has two main parts to his programming: communication and emotion.”

“Your machine feels emotions?” the director asked incredulously, finally turning his gaze to Diane.

“Yes,” Diane replied, “but only basic emotions. More complex feelings are outside his programming, at least for now. We’ve programed him to feel happiness and sadness. If he feels happy then he associates whatever brought on that feeling positively and if he feels sad then he does the same only with a negative association.”

“Why go to the trouble of programming emotions?” the director asked, turning his attention back to the computer screen. “That seems like a terrible waste of time.”

“The idea, um, came from talking to, uh, talking to my sister,” Diane awkwardly answered, casting a quick glance behind her. “She had just had a baby and I realized that a lot of what my, um, my nephew was learning was based on emotions. Being hungry made him sad, so he would cry until he got a bottle. At first, the only discernable emotion was sadness or no emotion at all, but the next emotion to appear was happiness, often expressed with a smile or even laughter. These two emotions are the most basic and continue to be a part of learning for every person’s entire life.”

“Why go to the trouble of simulating emotions?” the Director asked. “Why not simply program it to have positive or negative associations with its actions?”

“Well, we tried that at first,” Diane responded, “but there were…problems. We eventually discovered that programing emotions would be easiest because that’s what inspired this new approach to begin with. And even though we’ve only given Ainsley the most basic of emotions, the programming it takes to do that is still pretty complex.”

“Fine, fine,” the director said, waving his hand impatiently. “Show me a demonstration.”

“Would you like to chat with Ainsley, Director?” Diane offered.

“Very well,” the director said as he moved the chair forward in a way that appeared more like he was floating forward. He placed his hands on the keyboard and began typing.

Hello.

Hi, Diane!

I am not Dr. Shaw. I am Director Leland.

Okay! Hi, Director Leland!

What is your purpose?

Gosh, I don’t know. I guess to be happy! I like being happy. Do you like being happy, Director Leland?

Humans who feel happiness are merely experiencing chemicals released throughout the body. We experience happiness because evolution has programmed us to so, just as your creator has programmed you to think that you are experiencing happiness.

Diane, watching the monitor, spoke up. “Director, he only has the intelligence of a three-year- old, just with better communication skills. I don’t think a philosophical debate about the nature of happiness is the best way to see how he processes information.”

“I will be the one to decide that,” the director rebuffed, once again not looking up from the computer.

Well, I don’t know about that. If I choose to do good things and good things make me feel happy, wouldn’t that mean that I choose to be happy?

Choosing to be happy is only an illusion. As I already stated, you are programmed to desire happiness, so how real can that feeling be?

You’re silly! (◠‿◠)

It is rude to call directors of universities “silly.”

Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. Did I hurt your feelings?

I was not personally offended, but it was not proper.

I don’t like hurting other people’s feelings. It makes me sad.

The director shot a look at Diane. “Perhaps my line of questioning was a bit much.”

Diane had to work hard not drop her mouth open in shock. I didn’t think it was possible for him to admit being wrong, she thought. With a slight smirk on her face—she is only human after all—she continued to watch the conversation unfold.

Very well. Tell me, what DO you like?

I like being helpful! Like when I place all of the files that Diane gives me into the right folder.

The director looked up at Diane, a look of suspicious concern on his face. “You have this program organize your files for you?”

“Oh, no,” Diane replied quickly. “Think of it like a digital version of the children’s game of putting the differently shaped blocks into their corresponding holes.”

“Very well,” Leland said, already facing the computer again.

Why do you like to do that?

It helps Diane. She tells me I do a good job.

“Does this program know anything useful?” the director asked, annoyed.

“We’re slowly introducing him to more advanced concepts” Diane answered. “He can solve basic arithmetic problems.”

“Very well,” the director said (Diane noticed he kept using that phrase.)

What is 6+5?

11! Math is fun!

What is 17-(- 4)?

21!

What is 25x5?

“Director,” Diane interjected, “we haven’t gotten to multiplication yet.” She was about to type a shortcut into the keyboard to undo Leland’s text, when Ainsley answered.

I think it’s 125.

“Then how do you explain that, Dr. Shaw?” the director asked.

“I, uh, I can’t,” Diane said, stunned.

Dr. Shaw says you haven’t been taught to perform multiplication equations. Where did you learn how to do that?

I figured it out. Based on the relationship between the numbers on either side to the equals sign in addition and subtraction equations, as well as what I’ve seen in some accounting spreadsheets, I thought it was a reasonable answer. Was I right?

Leland suddenly stood up. “I’ve seen enough,” he said, taking a few steps away from the computer. Diane reached over and typed a few words to Ainsley.

Yes. Good answer.

Yay!

It was nice talking to you, Ainsley, but I have to go now.

Bye, Director Leland! Talk to you later!

“I’m sorry Director—” Diane began before being cut off by Leland.

“You have nothing for which to apologize,” the director said, showing the slightest signs of a smile (or more likely his frown was simply receding). “I was quite impressed. Your program is even learning things that you have not directly taught it. At the next board of directors meeting, I will submit a proposal to increase your budget and staff size. This program of yours has the potential to revolutionize the world.”

Diane was completely taken aback. “I-I don’t know what to say, director,” she managed to say through her surprise.

“For now,” the director said in the kindest tone that Diane had ever heard him use (which, admittedly, was still not very kind), “just prepare for another visit, this time with the entire board.” Leland extended his hand for Diane to shake.

Diane shook his hand, still in a daze. “Y-yes,” she said, “I’ll start getting ready right away.”

“Very well,” the director said before heading to the front of the building to leave.

As the director left out the front, Diane walked out the rear entrance of the building. She excitedly pulled out her cell phone from her sweater pocket and called her boyfriend.

“Hey, Diane,” he said. “What’s up?”

“Kaz!” she exclaimed. “You’ll never believe it! Leland came by and asked about Ainsley!”

“What?!” he asked, concerned. “Where’d he hear about it from?”

“I don’t know,” Diane replied, her excitement still soaring, “but he liked it! He said he wants to increase my budget and staff size!”

“That’s amazing!” Kaz said, now just as excited as his girlfriend. “We have to celebrate. Let’s go to that one Thai place tonight.”

“Uh,” Diane said, calming down a bit, “I was actually thinking today that I need to start eating better.”

“I’ll tell you what,” Kaz said sweetly, “I’m done teaching for the day, so I’ll go and buy a bunch of organic food and we’ll start eating better together, but we’ll start tomorrow. You deserve a fun meal tonight.”

“Okay,” Diane said, not putting up a fight. “I’ll be out of here around five. Meet you there?”

“It’s a date!” Kaz said. “Congratulations again.”

“Thanks!” Diane said. “See you tonight. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Diane put her phone back in her sweater pocket and walked back into the lab still high on excitement. As she approached her work station, she heard what sounded like a power drill and smelled a slight aroma of burning metal. Must be a maintenance worker fixing the busted cabinet door, she thought. When she got to her desk she saw Tam on the floor, drilling through a hard drive, rendering it useless. Around her on the floor was Diane’s gutted computer tower and two other hard drives. Diane knew immediately what had happened: Tam had destroyed Ainsley and both of his backups.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Diane exclaimed in horror.

“I’m making sure you don’t take any more credit for my work!” the grad student said, pulling the drill from the last hard drive.

“I never took credit for anything!” Diane said, looking at the three drives that Tam had ruined. “I said that we worked on it. I used the word ‘we’!”

“I was just on the other side of the server cabinet and I heard everything,” Tam said, her words dripping with anger. “You told the director that you came up with the idea to use emotions for Ainsley to learn. That was my idea. You don’t even have a sister!”

Diane dropped to her knees, the reality of the situation sinking in. “I… I was just simplifying the story when I said that. I was nervous. Yes, I-I said I that I came up with the idea, but I still said that we worked on it. When I—when we write the paper, you were going to get your credit.” Diane stared at the wrecked drives. “All that work…”

“All of my work,” Tam corrected, her anger burning white-hot. “I coded every emotional response. You just wrote the code for the user-interface and some of the communication skills, but I know you built that off of some open source code. You should be able to reproduce what you did easily enough.”

Diane looked up at the young grad student, still in shock. “You’ll be expelled,” she said, her words weak with sorrow.

“Good!” Tam said, spitting her words. “I can’t work under a fascist like you anymore!”

Tam stormed out, leaving her former mentor kneeling on the floor of the computer lab, tears slowing running down her cheeks, surrounded by the shattered remains of a year’s worth of work.