Titan

28 May 2096: Mission control center

“Primary restriction?” Habib echoed. “What primary restriction?”

He looked up at the faces gathered around him. They all looked as puzzled as he.

“I know the master program,” he said. Gesturing to the programmers in the group he went on, “We wrote it. Do any of you know of a primary restriction?”

They glanced uneasily at each other, shaking their heads.

Von Helmholtz, still sitting ramrod straight in the chair beside Habib’s, said, “The clock is running. We will have to extract Gaeta from down there in twenty-nine minutes or less. I don’t like the looks of that black storm.”

Habib barely heard him. “A primary restriction. The master program believes it contains a primary restriction that is preventing it from uplinking data from the sensors.”

“There isn’t any primary restriction,” said one of the women.

“But the program believes there is,” Habib pointed out.

“There are learning routines,” one of the other program engineers said slowly, as if piecing together his thoughts as he spoke. “Maybe the program has modified itself.”

“What could make it do that?”

Habib replied, “It could learn from the conditions it encountered once it was activated on Titan’s surface.”

The woman said, “What could it possibly learn from Titan’s surface that would make it refuse to uplink data to us?”

No one had an answer for that.

Still sitting on Alpha’s roof, Gaeta listened to the engineers’ musings with growing discomfort. He checked the temperature inside his suit: it had dropped four degrees below optimal. Okay, he thought as he turned up the thermostat to bring the temperature up, it’s pretty damned cold out there. Heater must be working overtime with me just sitting here, not generating much body heat.

The engineers were batting around ideas about why the stupid computer turned off the uplink antenna. It was like listening to a gaggle of high school class presidents trying to solve the problem of world hunger.

I’ve got get out of here, Gaeta told himself. But he realized that he didn’t want to leave his job unfinished. I can’t let this pile of chips beat me. I’m smarter than a goddamned computer, no matter what kind of learning programs they put into it.

“Computer,” he snapped, “what is this primary restriction?”

No response.

Grimacing, he rephrased, “Display the primary restriction.”

A burst of electronic noise assailed his earphones. Before Gaeta could blink, it was over. But his ears started ringing again.

Well, he thought, at least the guys in the control center have something to work on. Maybe in a week or two they’ll figure it out. But I can’t wait that long.

The chingado computer won’t uplink data from the sensors because it thinks there’s some primary restriction that’s telling it not to. Gaeta pondered that for several moments, while the engineers’ arguing voices continued to clutter up his communications frequency.

Something it’s learned while it’s been here on the surface of Titan, Gaeta thought. Maybe …

“Computer, what is the single most important piece of data your sensors have detected?”

Silence. Nothing but crackling static. Gaeta was about to give up in disgust when the computer’s inhuman voice replied:

LIFE-FORMS EXIST IN THE GROUND.

“But we knew that from earlier probes.”

I HAVE NO INFORMATION OF EARLIER PROBES.

I? Gaeta wondered. A computer that talks about itself? That recognizes itself?

The engineers back at the control center jumped on the same concept. Gaeta heard their voices rise in pitch and intensity.

Ignoring their chatter, he said to the computer, “You found life-forms in the ground.”

YES.

Gaeta started to ask his next question but hesitated. Watch it, he said to himself. Don’t let him fall back on that damned “conflict of commands” crap again.

“Are the life-forms involved in the conflict of commands?”

Gaeta waited, but the computer stayed silent.

“Are the life-forms the cause of the conflict of commands?” he asked.

YES.

Holy shit! Gaeta exulted. Now we’re getting someplace. Aloud, he asked, “How do the life-forms cause a conflict of commands?”

Again the computer went silent. Is it thinking over the question or is it just too friggin’ stupid to give me an answer? Gaeta asked himself.

“Gaeta! Listen to me! Now!” Habib’s voice called insistently. Even with the volume turned low Gaeta could hear the urgency in his voice.

“What is it?” he replied wearily. He felt burdened, tired of this whole game. And then he waited, while the black snowstorm crept closer.

“That burst of information the program sent a half-minute ago,” Habib said at last. “It’s all about decontamination procedures!”

“Decontamination? You mean, like scrubbing the machine to make sure it doesn’t infect Titan with Earth germs?”

Again the delay. Then, “Yes! When you asked it to display the primary restriction it displayed its file on decontamination procedures!”

“That’s the primary restriction?”

With nothing else to do, Gaeta sat inside his cumbersome suit and counted the seconds to Habib’s reply. Eight … nine … ten …

“There isn’t any primary restriction. Nothing of that sort was written into the master program. But the computer has interpreted its decontamination procedures as a restriction of some sort.”

Gaeta shook his head inside his helmet. “I don’t get it. You’ve got some housekeeping commands written into the master program and the dumbass computer won’t send any data because—”

Suddenly it all became clear. Gaeta’s eyes snapped wide. He raised both gloved hands in a clenched-fist sign of victory.

“Computer,” he called, “would uplinking sensor data cause a contamination danger to the life-forms in the ground?”

YES, came the immediate reply.

Habib, still nearly twelve seconds behind real time, was saying, “It must be something about preventing contamination. I think you’re—”

“I’ve got it!” Gaeta yelled. “I’ve got it! Shut up and listen, all of you.”

Habib and the other voices went quiet.

“You built learning routines into this program, right? Okay, it’s learned. The computer found life-forms in the ground. It knows from your decontamination procedures that Earth organisms can contaminate the Titan organisms. So it interprets the decontamination procedures to mean that it shouldn’t send data back to you about the local life-forms.”

Now I have to wait until they get my message and think about it, Gaeta said to himself. Screw that. I’m not sitting here with my thumbs up my butt. I’m gonna fix this problem.

“Computer, uplinking data would not harm the life-forms in the ground.”

Yes it would.

“How?”

Silence.

Fuming, Gaeta rephrased his question: “How would uplinking data damage the life-forms in the ground?”

Additional probes would be sent here. Each new probe increases the risk of contamination.

“But that’s a risk we have to take. We can’t learn about the life-forms if we don’t send probes to study them.”

Contamination must be prevented

“Contamination must be avoided, if possible.”

Contamination must be prevented by all available means.

“We can’t study the life-forms without some risk of contamination.”

Humans are carriers of contamination. They must not be allowed to study the life-forms.

Christ, Gaeta thought, he sounds like Urbain. Why not? Urbain directed the computer’s programming.

“Look, pal, the reason you exist is to study the life-forms and to report what you find to the humans who built you.”

Logic tree: I uplink sensor data to humans. They will want more data. They will send more probes. Inevitably, they will send humans. Probes are possible sources of contamination. Humans are certain sources of contamination.

Geez, he’s got it all figured out. How can I shake him out of this programming lock?

“Hey, computer: I’m a human, and I’m not contaminating the life-forms.”

For several seconds the computer did not reply. Gaeta thought he had exceeded its ability to understand. But then:

HUMANS ARE CARRIERS OF CONTAMINATION.

The ten-megajoule laser mounted at the rear of Alpha’s roof rose from its recessed niche and began to swivel toward Gaeta.