S.W.A.T. (book 2 of the hexology in seven parts)
Chapter 20: SaNs NaCelle

“Get out and bring me some decent food. And take this filth with you. I can’t even taste the garlic you imbecile.” Professor Pierre Pinot yelled at his retreating assistant, as the lackey dodged a plate of escargot. To be fair the professor was at the end of his tether. It had been a long week, no to be true it had been a long year. And the retreating Francois, no longer the fresh-faced youth that had joined professor Pinot barely twelve months ago. Was a prime example that genius was only one per cent inspiration; the other ninety nine per cent composed of perspiration, which the two researchers in the field of advanced artificial collective intelligence, had contributed by the bucket load. They reeked of Gallic genius, and if only this time the machinery would work. The world would be able to inhale the fruit of their labours.

Pierre paced about the lab waiting for his lunch, as he rechecked the connections between the processors. Each was an equivalent of a human brain. Every one had individual traits, a personality for want of a better word. But the aim of professor Pinot was not simply an artificial intelligence, some proximity of the human mind. He wanted the kind of interaction between each brain, which humans had in a community. Where one idea could spark another, and so on to create yet more ideas, until the process almost becomes a chain reaction of invention. Like an explosion of innovation, that could lead to anywhere, perhaps a practical anti gravity machine, faster than light travel, or a really good deodorant.

He opened the window; his genius was making him quite heady. So the professor had used his huge European research grant, cunningly obtained by a combination of force of will, some persuasion, and perhaps a hint of blackmail, to create the social neural network cascade or S.N.N.C. for short. The professor liked the abbreviation better, as he could sound important at parties. As he bragged about the advances to science he would soon be creating, with his pet project. Like a balloon rising unhindered by it’s basket below. But the professor wasn’t in a mood to brag just now though, for even the seemingly bottomless well of research grants must reach an end. And unless he had any results soon, not even the private sector would touch his work.

There was a two per cent drop in the information interchange, between unit forty-seven B and forty-seven C. He cursed his absent assistant, as he made the necessary adjustments. Then the door burst open, and Francois stood in the light grinning insanely. With a French Baggett held in one hand, and a block of Stilton cheese sat on his other upturned palm. It gave off faint wisps of steam as its aroma pervaded the lab. “I’m not eating that English trash. Bring me Camembert, or bring me death. Now get out, and don’t be long.” The crestfallen henchman turned his back on the professor, and slunk off.

Many years ago, the great scientist had studied the history of scientific advancement. He had poured over ancient texts, and mapped progress in the fields of science. Compared with the ability of these advancements to be transmitted throughout their community, and of course on to greater sized communities. Then after many painstaking years, the worthy scholar had formed a correlation between these factors, which seemed to spread across not only the pure sciences, but through art and philosophy even. Each great mind driving it’s peers on in some way or other, to further inspiration. There were other factors, such as wars or political oppression, which either subdued or spurred on various schools of thought and innovation. But generally a rule of thumb professor Pinot came up with, was that the more freely available ideas were allowed to spread, the more quickly the rate of discoveries there were, almost exponentially.

Francois burst in once more, for the cheese shop was just around the corner. And the professor waved him over, attracted by the rich overtures of Camembert, as it almost dripped off the plate. “Now we will eat.” Francois suddenly looked forlorn. “But professor, I have forgotten the wine.” Pierre stopped mid bite, and his eyes bulged in his head. “You fool, how can I enjoy this morsel without a full glass of Merlot? Be off with you to the wine seller, it is but two streets away.” As the door banged shut behind Francois, the professor scoured the array of electronic brains for anything that might ruin the experiment.

The professor had mastered the field of microprocessor intelligence, and had made such advances in the field, to bring it up to the pinnacle he had achieved today. But this was nothing compared to the heights he hopped to scale. Imagine a society of geniuses, each creating some new innovation, idea or even an artistic endeavour. All at the speed modern computers could work at. But here was the crux of professor pinot’s vision. This community would transmit its findings at the speed of light, to all the other geniuses. It would be like society exploding with ideas, an evolution of knowledge at an astronomical rate. The amazing discoveries possible would be unlimited.

A crash behind the professor proclaimed Francois reappearance, with two bottles of Merlot gripped in his fists. With a grunt of satisfaction the professor grabbed one of the bottles, and filled their glasses. “Now we finally eat.” The two tucked in to this last supper, before the dawn of a new age. Finally they slouched back on their chairs, and raising a glass charged from the last of the wine, professor Pinot proposed a toast. “To the social neural network cascade. May it sore like the eagle.”

Then he flicked the switch, and they waited while lights flickered on and off. Strange whirring noises came from the virtual laboratories, displayed for observers’ edification, as science bots invented new chemical compounds. Odd chugging denoted the inventions forming in the computer brains. Scratching commenced, as artificial artists were inspired by the advances of other mechanical minds. Over all strange music pervaded the ambience of fevered creation, as interpreted by the room’s cyber composers. As they explored even newer forms of Terpsichore and muse. And even as these overtures resounded off the walls, fresh inventions from the chemist computers were drawing on these artistic endeavours.

“Hey I recognise this one.” Francois read the screen, as a printer chugged away with a hard copy of the work. “I think therefore I am. A fine bit of thinking N’est-ce pas?” The professor waved it away. “They will have to get some things the same as human evolution, before the real new thinking comes in to being. Then we shall see Francois, fame awaits us my boy.” And he patted the assistant on his back. “Look this one is from way back. It’s Plato’s cave analogy, where he postulates on the true nature of the world around him. And can you here that Francois?” There was a distinct, yet unheard before form of rock and roll coming from forty-two y. “Come Francois, break out the emergency Dom Perignon. I think it’s time to celebrate.”

The assistant hurried off while professor Pinot sat down to enjoy a cartoon being projected on a wall. “Funny I don’t recall fitting a projector. So we have a new form of television.” He turned to Francois, before realising the assistant had gone to their wine cellar, an old converted coal cellar. “I must get on to the patient office. This will make me rich beyond my wildest dreams.” “I have the Dom Perignon professor.” Francois thrust the bottle at him, and he poured a hearty glass full each. Then they sat down to enjoy the feature film now showing on the wall. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the (F)indNƟvᴇl.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

After the tenth glass even the professor had to admit something was up. Was it the fact that they had managed to get so much out of one bottle? Or perhaps it was the well wishers, that seemed crowded round the two scientists. Some intent like them on the gripping plot of the film, but others engaged in conversation. “The true nature of matter is such an ephemeral conundrum.” “I entirely agree with you. Take those two over there.” The man with an over large forehead pointed a thumb at the professor. “I could hardly expect such a lower life form, to grasp the concepts needed to live in the modern world. But there they are large as life, and transcending the barrier between the cave.” He waved his hand at the bank of computers. “And this delightful party.” One or two of the couples were starting to dance, to a slow beat emanating from some unseen source.

Befuddled by the wine, Pierre nudged Francois. “Am I dreaming, or did you put something in that cheese Francois?” Now fully realising the hubbub of chatter going on around them. “I think you have to let the genie out of the bottle professor. Why don’t you go interface, I mean chat with that fellow over there. He may be able to solve the worlds food problem, or create rockets to take us to the stars.” The professor staggered up, and shook his wine soaked brain alert. Then fixing his eyes on a couple discussing the similarity between the atomic structure of oxygen, and a tune they had recently heard. The professor strode up to the pair. “Good evening, I am your creator.” The woman in a glittering gold dress and deep ultramarine eyes broke off mid sentence, and stared at the professor appraisingly. Then she casually commented to the man next to her, who was an impressive figure in a dark evening suit. “Would you say that this specimen is a homo sapiens? I can’t say I’ve ever seen one up close. But there has been some speculation on the need, for an evolutionary predecessor to civilised humanity. I think Henry forty-seven B speculated on the necessary starting criteria for life, or indeed the universe as we know it.”

The professor had failed to hear the end of the conversation, for he had just grabbed Francois, and dragged him in to the open street. He had to get control of this experiment before it got the better of him. Also the air was clearer out here.

“Francois, have I created a monster?” He drank in the heady afternoon air, and sat on the pavement. While Francois looked back and forth between the professor, and the door they had just come through. He clasped his superior on the shoulder, and with an optimistic air tried to cheer the professor up. “Come now professor Pinot, inventor of the cyber brain, creator of the social neural network cascade, and father of the theory of scientific evolution. You’re not beat yet. I think a show of force against these upstarts is needed. Now let’s get you smartened up.” He hauled the despondent professor up by the lapels, and tried to brush off the dust. The stains would have to stay, a testament to the sweat and tears spent in his life’s work. “Now give me a determined smile.” The professor tried. And proving that a French man can lie through his teeth, Francois turned his boss towards the door and told him. “You are the master of that race. Now go bend them to your will.”

The professor pushed open the door, and Francois followed him inside. There was a melodious fusion of jazz and polka that had their feet tapping, as the two strode across the floor. Various works of art drifted around the room like clouds, while the film now showing in one corner, was represented in a three dimensional bubble. The whole of the crowd seemed constantly to be glancing at these various attractions, between snatches of deep conversations on various subjects, that seemed to the pair of scientists to all to be of a profound nature. Professor Pinot squared up to a tall man, who had an obvious look of a genius. “Look here my good man.” The man broke off from a conversation he was having about modern art. And he looked the professor up and down with distain. Then without taking his eyes off Pinot, he began to verbally dissect his stance, dress and even the inarticulate sounds the professor was now making, before Francois nudged Pinot in the ribs. “You don’t realise the import of my work here. I’ve created the bank of computers you consider your corporeal existence. And if you don’t start treating me, your creator with a bit more respect, I’ll pull your plug.”

The professor strode purposely over to the main power switch on the wall. He glared at the small crowd, which had gathered to watch this outburst. The tension was electric, as he rested his hand on the switch. Then it broke with one stifled giggle that broke the silence, as a wave of laughter came from the small crowd of spectators. “The clowning is excellent.” “It reminds me of Simon thirty-seven D’s play, Wither goes the electron.” And a general hubbub ensued, with applause for the stunned professor. The professor’s shoulders fell with his head. But it was up again in an instant, a gleam of malice in his eyes. And he pushed the switch up, in to its off position. The look of triumph froze on his face, at the continued existence of the crowd. In fact no change what so ever happened.

“He doesn’t know about the energy taps Tony thirty-six B set up, to guarantee our supply.” “Not that we’ll need it, with Gerald fifteen N’s device to turn this planet in to a mini black hole. To power the force bubble Tim four x is developing right now, that will surround this room, and allow us to explore the universe. I think he may be done soon.” Professor Pinot was slowly sinking down the wall, as the meaning of all this sank in. He felt powerless to stop the end of the world. He had almost reached the floor, when an arm bolstered him up, and Francois dragged his limp frame towards the door. The assistant babbled about needing some fresh air again. But the professor only heard a buzzing, or was it a hissing noise in his ears. And so he was oblivious to the underling prattling’s.

Back out in the street Francois propped the professor up next to a dumpster, and extracted a cigarette. “You want one?” The professor mechanically took it, and he allowed Francois to light it with the zippo lighter he had produced. Then instead of pocketing the lighter, Francois tossed it over his shoulder. The force that hit them sent the dumpster rolling, but thankfully the bin protected them for most of the blast. As the professor’s laboratory, in fact the whole building exploded, as the gas caught light. Francois picked the professor up; the smouldering cigarette still stuck between his lips, and brushed the dust off his boss. Professor Pinot was torn between this sudden change in events. The world was not going to end, but his life’s work was currently a smouldering heap, with bits of debris still raining down around them.

In all this confusion all the professor could think, was how Francois had save the day. “How did you know they wouldn’t see the danger of gas?” Francois was busy lighting his own cigarette, from a burning plastic monitor case. “Simple professor. Those geniuses verbally tore you to pieces; on just about everything but your aroma, it’s rather advanced. Well I got to thinking they might not have any knowledge of gas. So I took the chance. Seems to have been their Achilles nose.”

The professor sighed, and looked over the bin at the devastation that was his life’s work as Francois continued. “My brother owns a vineyard in Aquitaine. Why don’t we take a holiday before you start again?” And he helped the dumb struck professor away. As sirens heralded the fire trucks, now turning up.

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