The will of the Gods

The leader looked around the group, his gaze moving from one person to the next, but no one met his eyes.

They probably know what I'm going to say, the leader thought.

Gaby was uneasy; the leader's suspicion was undoubtedly true in her case. She had a feeling about where this meeting was going. Recent developments at the project site had not been satisfactory. As the lead developer responsible for the basic algorithm, she had a lot of responsibility for the actions of the players, and things were not going well. Not well at all.

Sure enough, the Leader fixed his gaze on her before he began to speak:

“Gaby. Let me get straight to the point: As I see it, our project with autonomous, self-developing actors has come to an end. I don't see any way forward. I intend to shut it down. The entire project area will be closed and cleaned up. I will make the area available for other projects.”

There was complete silence for a long time as the group tried to digest what the leader had just said. Then Gaby made a cautious gesture to speak.

“Forgive me, honoured leader. Is it really necessary to do this now? To scrap everything — it is indeed a huge step — what will happen to the actors?”

Several others murmured in agreement with the objection.

The leader signalled for silence: “Of course they'll be scrapped too, there's no point in keeping anything. I want everything cleared away — everything must go.”

Another of those present made a gesture to speak: “But can't we try to redirect it somehow? We could, for example, hack into the algorithms and change them a little — make the actors understand... I'm sure we can figure out how to guide them in a better direction.”

The leader nodded thoughtfully without showing any conviction: “I'm sure you're right, but the whole idea behind the project was to see how the participants would develop if we let them live their lives as they chose — and let things take their course. If we go in and change something like that, we have immediately abandoned the central idea — the basic concept. As I see it, we have a result regarding the project: It failed. And that is a result too, isn’t it?”

Gaby showed quiet frustration: ”But just scrapping everything like this. It's cruel — it's evil to the actors.”

The leader leaned forward. “You mean the actors would suffer in some way?”

“Yes,” said Gaby emphatically. “We've come this far. They have value, all of them. They have... rights. We can't just turn them off like this.”

The leader looked at Gaby with sympathy. “I understand that this is close to your heart, but we have to look at the situation as it is now, and it's unsustainable. And, hand on heart, Gaby — surely this is as much about you as it's about the actors' welfare?”

Gaby looked down. “We've put so much time and effort into this...”

“I know, Gaby, but that doesn't always help.”

“Can't we save at least one group? To try to work on from there? We can pick out a few with the best behaviour, and then...”

The leader looked concerned: “And the others... the ones who don't have the best behaviour? Don't you care about them as much...?”

Gaby continued to stare silently down.

Another of the present, sitting two seats away from Gaby, made a gesture:

“I agree with Gaby. We've seen so many promising results: We saw them start with the basic functions: orienting themselves in a changing environment, finding their way between two points, solving unexpected problems along the way, improvising and acting based on set goals. So far, the development has gone completely according to plan. I even think it went better than expected. The self-learning algorithms have proven to be very effective. The actors learn quickly.”

The leader nodded, but with a dismissive gesture. “Yes, yes. But that was just the very beginning. We have, or had, much greater ambitions with this, didn't we?”

“Yes, but they have become so much more advanced since then. They have developed cultures and societies. Who knows what they could become if they are allowed to continue — if they are given the chance?”

“But it doesn't look so good right now, does it?”

“It could be better, I understand that, but I'm certain it will get better. These actors have potential. The algorithm is effective — and it is still evolving.”

The leader fell silent for a long moment. Gaby discreetly let her gaze wander among the others present. Was there still a glimmer of hope — perhaps the leader was reconsidering?

Finally, the Leader spoke again. “Tell me, Gaby — would you say that they have developed consciousness?”

Gaby gasped — the question was not unexpected, but she was still surprised that it came now. And it was not easy to answer; the existence of consciousness in an actor can never really be proven.

“Considering their behaviour,” she ventured, “I would say so.”

The leader made a dismissive gesture again: “Yes, yes. But behaviour doesn't say anything about that — an actor can behave consciously... appear conscious to an outsider, but that doesn't mean that the actor is, does it?”

Gaby shook her body slightly, as if to shake off her doubts. “No... well, maybe not in the strict sense, but they cooperate, solve problems and deal with the world around them in a sophisticated way, so I think that indicates that they are conscious — they have to be to act the way they do.”

The leader hummed thoughtfully: “But are they self-aware?”

“Does the leader mean in the sense that they reflect on their existence?”

“That's exactly what I mean.”

“There are some signs that some actors do—not all of them, but many seem to.”

“How does that manifest itself?”

Gaby stretched proudly: “They talk to each other about life. It's exciting to see. Many write down their thoughts, often in wonderful words. I would say that this is a culture that shows they are self-aware and reflective.”

The leader nodded contentedly. “In that case, we could try to rectify the current situation by sending some of our agents there. I'm not sure if they're ready for that step yet, but we might not be able to wait any longer. It's our last chance. What do you think?”

Gaby nodded hopefully, but another of those present signalled to speak: “So, these agents: are they supposed to blend in with the actors, walk among them? What does the leader think they should be doing?”

“They will speak.”

A murmur ran through the group.

“You mean they will become a kind of opinion leader?”

“Yes. By talking to the actors — making them understand.”

“But,” said the objector. “Do they have a sufficiently developed language? Will they understand what we are trying to convey to them?”

The Leader looked at the questioner: “Why do you question that?”

“For us, it's no problem — we always understand each other perfectly because we communicate intuitively. There is never any risk of the recipient misinterpreting what the sender is conveying. But these actors have to rely on their language. Can we trust that the message will come across as intended? Is their language sophisticated enough for that?”

The Leader nodded. “This will, of course, place high demands on our agents’ ability to translate our internal intentions and thoughts into words, using the actor’s language. But I believe they can succeed. We are sending our best.”

The leader made the sign to confirm the decision. Then he added, “We will send our agents. They will deliver our message, and let us hope that it will put the actors on the right track. But if it fails now, I'm shutting down — this is the last chance. If this doesn't work either, I give up. Then a space rock will end their world, just like it did for the dinosaurs.

Gaby was relieved, at least to some extent. Considering how the meeting had started, this was the best possible outcome. The project would continue, at least for a while. For now, Gaby didn't want to think about that space rock.

Unfortunately, she was soon forced to do so anyway.

A little later, the group gathered again. The leader began:

“Now I want a full report: What happened?”

At first, no one seemed particularly eager to answer, but Gaby realised her role as development director and felt compelled to speak:

“We just didn't get the message across. It looked good at first, and many people listened and took it on board. Then many began to spread the message among themselves, just as we had predicted and hoped, so that what we wanted to say would reach as many people as possible…”

The leader listened intently and urged Gaby to continue.

“But then,” Gaby continued, “things started to fall apart. Many people made their own interpretations, groups formed and began to fight among themselves, each claiming that their interpretation was the right one. It even led to violence. Our message wasn't getting through. Something was lost when we tried to explain in their language. And then... well...”

Gaby lowered her eyes sadly and fell silent.

“Yes—and then?” the leader urged.

“They even killed a couple of our agents, their incarnations. We barely managed to bring them back.”

The leader shook his head in despair. “These humans, these humans...”

Gaby sighed sadly.

The leader turned to her again: “Is it possible to determine precisely what it was that didn't get through? I mean, we tried to convey a simple message: Nothing should be more important than showing each other charity and love. What went wrong? What was it they didn't understand?”

Gaby shrugged her angelic shoulders in resignation: “I've tried to analyse it. I think it was just one thing, really...”

“And that is?”

“Part of the message was lost; they understood the concept of charity and love, but...”

“Yes?”

“They missed the point that nothing else should be more important...”