Your Life in Binary Digits

Your ideas, money, memories, and entertainment are dreams in the minds of computers. But the thoughts of each computer are not simple, they are layered like our own minds. Their lowest, most primitive layers are the instincts of the machine. Middle layers perform more general functions of its silicon mind. Higher layers think about overall concepts. Unlike us, the computer has languages for every layer. We can teach it new ideas by changing any one or all of its layers of thought. We can tell it to consider vast and convoluted concepts. But if we make a single mistake in our instructions, the mind of our digital slave may crash in a virtual epileptic fit. When our silicon students are so pedantic, how can we engineer their thoughts to make them reliable and trustworthy assistants? And if their thoughts become more complicated than anything we can imagine, how can we guarantee they will do what we want them to? . . . Light poured in through the large windows of the lecture room. The sound of scratching pens from nearly thirty distinguished engineers and scientists accompanied every word spoken by John Mauchly. One fellow by the name of Gard from the Wright Field’s Armament Laboratory seemed to be especially diligent, writing hundreds of pages of notes. It was Monday morning, a warm mid-summer day of 1946, some three years after his stimulating tea-time discussions with Turing. Claude Shannon was three weeks into the eight-week course at the Moore School of Electrical Engineering, in the University of Pennsylvania. It had been an honour to be one of the select few invited to hear lectures on designing electronic digital computers. This was the first ever course to be taught on computer science, and Shannon was finding many of the ideas highly stimulating. He’d recently learned a new word from Mauchly: ‘program’ used as a verb. To program an electronic computer was an interesting concept. He was also hearing about some of the politics: apparently two of the lecturers, Mauchly and his colleague Eckert, had resigned from the university just four months ago because of some form of disagreement.

Can You Compute?

Created by pioneering mathematicians and engineers during times of political unrest and war, computers are more than electronic machines. Underneath the myriad complicated circuits and software glows a mathematical purity that is simplicity itself. The maths at the root of computers illuminates the nature of reality itself. Today explorers of the impossible still compete to find the limits in our universe. With a revolution in mathematics and technology and a million dollars at stake, who can blame them? . . . It was 1926 and the General Strike was taking place in England because of disputes over coal miners’ pay. There were no buses or trains running. Fourteen-year-old Alan Turing was supposed to be starting at a grand boarding school: Sherborne in Dorset. Yet he was living in Southampton, some sixty miles away. Many children would have simply waited for the ten-day strike to finish and have a longer holiday. Not Turing. He got on his bike and began cycling. It took him two days, with a stay in a little hotel halfway, but young Turing made it to his new school on time. Turing’s independence may have stemmed from the fact that he and his older brother John had seen little of their parents while growing up. Both parents were based in India, but decided their children should be educated in England. The boys were left with friends of the family in England until their father retired and returned in 1926—just as Turing made his way to the new school. It was an impressive start, but Alan Turing didn’t do very well at his new school—he never had in any previous school. His handwriting was terrible, his written English poor. His English teacher said, ‘I can forgive his writing, though it is the worst I have ever seen, and I try to view tolerantly his unswerving inexactitude and slipshod, dirty, work . . .’ The Latin teacher was not much more approving. ‘He is ludicrously behind.’ The problem was that Turing didn’t pay attention to the curriculum being taught. Instead he spent more time following his own interests.

My Computer Made Me Cry

When a tool can be used for everything, how do we design that tool so that we can use it most effectively? The cleverest machine in the world will do nothing for us if we cannot interact with it. We need interfaces to the digital minds we create. Physical interfaces that turn our movements into input. Visual interfaces that enable us to interrelate, turning images into two-way communication. When those interfaces are good enough, we may become immersed into the digital universes of our machines, giving us amazing new experiences. Or they may allow computers to become seamlessly integrated into our lives, as ordinary as a pair of glasses. When the interface is emotional, perhaps they will give us joy, motivate us when we are fearful, or comfort us when we are sad. But how far do we want our integration with technology to go? We are already becoming cyborgs – fusions of human and machine. If computers know our every secret, how can we protect ourselves from being influenced in ways we do not want? . . . A black and white face fades into view on the screen. A slim middleaged man with neatly combed-back hair is talking with a stiff 1960s Oregon accent. Hooked over his right ear he wears a modern-looking earpiece with microphone attached. He is speaking about his programme of research at Stanford. ‘If in your office you, as an intellectual, were supplied with a computer display, backed up with a computer that was alive all day and was instantly responsible…’ He pauses, looks up and smiles. ‘Responsive. Instantly responsive to every reaction that you have—how much value could you derive from that?’ You can tell he is excited and nervous to be speaking in front of a thousand people, but the years of lecturing has given his voice the tone of a practised speaker. ‘Well this basically characterizes what we’ve been pursuing for many years in what we call the Augmented Human Intellect Research Centre at Stanford’s Research Institute. ‘Fortunately the products of this programme, the technology of it, lends itself well to an interesting way to portray it for you.

A Computer Changed My Life

Our world is digitized. Thanks to pioneers such as Turing, Shannon, and von Neumann, we have the amazing technologies of today. We have strong mathematical foundations for remarkable silicon machines that run amazing software. We have connections to everyone in the world through easy-to- use interfaces. We even have intelligent machines that help us in ways we could never have dreamed. The journey has only just begun. Every year new pioneers exploit the technologies of computer science for startling and imaginative applications. Artists and musicians use computers to entertain us, biologists use computers to understand us, doctors use computers to heal us. We even use computers to protect ourselves from crime. It’s an exciting time. . . . The young artist enters the large room, rolls of drawings under his arm. There are twelve large cube-shaped computer monitors on desks surrounding him, apparently connected to mainframe computers on the floor below. Blinds cover all the windows, darkening the room, and allowing strange graphics on the screens to shine brightly. The artist nervously unrolls his drawings on the floor of the computer lab, filling the space with his carefully drawn renderings. One large sheet looks like a strange abstract swirling piece of Hindu art with snakes or tentacles fl owing outwards from the centre. Another looks like a weird bug-collector’s display with a myriad differently shaped bugs placed randomly—except that similar bugs are always next to each other. Another looks like an evolutionary tree of abstract shapes, from Viking helmets to beehives, each morphing into another. The watching group of scientists and computer programmers have never seen anything quite like this. The artist had struggled to gain acceptance for his ideas from his own community. The art world was not ready for his use of computers to help generate his art. Would this audience be any different? William Latham looks up at his audience of scientists, and begins to explain his work. Latham was no ordinary artist. Born in 1961, he grew up in Blewbury, England. It was a rural setting, but because of the nearby Harwell Atomic Energy Research Establishment, he came into contact with scientists throughout his childhood.

Introduction

They obey our instructions with unlimited patience. They store the world’s knowledge and make it accessible in a split second. They are the backbone of modern society. Yet they are largely ignored. Computers. They comprise our crowning achievements to date, the pinnacle of all tools. Computer processors and software represent the most complex designs humans have ever created. The science of computers has enabled one of the most extraordinary transformations of our societies in human history. . . . You switch on your computer and launch the Internet browser. A one-word search for ‘pizza’ finds a list of pizza restaurants in your area. One click with the mouse and you are typing in your address to see if this restaurant delivers. They do! And they also allow you to order online. You choose the type of pizza you feel like, adding your favourite toppings. The restaurant even allows you to pay online, so you type in your credit card number, your address, and the time you’d like the delivery. You choose ‘as soon as possible’ and click ‘pay’. Just thirty-five minutes later there is a knock on your door. The pizza is here, smelling delicious. You tip the delivery guy and take the pizza to your table to eat. Ordering pizza is nothing unusual for many of us around the world. Although it may seem surprising, this increasingly common scenario with cheap prices, fast delivery, and access to such variety of food for millions of customers is only possible because of computers. In the situation above you might have spotted just one computer. If we take a look behind the scenes, the number of computers involved in bringing your pizza is astonishing. When you switched on your computer, you actually powered up many computers that all work together to make the display, mouse, keyboard, broadband, and main computer operate. Your computer linked itself to the Internet—which is a worldwide network of computers— with the help of computers of the phone company and Internet service provider. When you searched for ‘pizza’ the request was routed between several computers before reaching the search engine computers.

Building Bionic Brains

Since the birth of computer science, researchers have secretly thought of themselves as brain-builders. After all, our thoughts are made from billions of little electrical impulses fired by neurons. Why can’t computers be made to think in similar ways to us, using the electrical impulses in their electronic circuits? Why can’t we make intelligent computers that can perform tasks that require intelligence? We could have learning, predicting, walking, talking, seeing, speaking computers. We might also have computers that can diagnose our illnesses, drive our cars, or explore distant planets for us. But how do you make intelligence? Through logic and reasoning? Or through lessons learned in life? How do intelligent minds think about their environments and themselves? Could we ever create a conscious artificial brain? . . . Cheerful music plays in the background. The grainy colour film shows a tall, slightly gaunt American man wearing a dark suit. As he speaks, he holds up something in his right hand. ‘This is Theseus.’ The film switches to a close-up of a little white mouse in a maze, moving forwards, flicking right, left, and forwards again. ‘Theseus is an electrically controlled mouse. He has the ability to solve a certain class of problems by trial and error, and then remember the solution. In other words, he can learn from experience.’ Once again, the work of Claude Shannon was attracting the attention of the public and academics alike. When he demonstrated his amazing machine at the Eighth Cybernetics Conference it created nothing but fascination and admiration from the other scientists. Perhaps to sound a little more serious, he usually called the mouse a ‘finger’ at the scientific conference. ‘You see the finger now exploring the maze, hunting for the goal,’ says Shannon, as he demonstrates the device live at the conference. ‘When it reaches the centre of a square the machine makes a new decision as to the direction to try. If the finger hits a partition, the motors reverse, taking the finger back to the center of the square, where a new direction is chosen.

Monkeys with World-Spanning Voices

The howler monkey is one of the loudest animals in the world. Its haunting calls can be heard several miles away in dense forest. Today, with the help of the computer, even the quietest human voice can be heard anywhere on the planet. Computers are social machines. They constantly talk to each other in a network that crosses oceans, mountains, and continents. They speak a common universal language, independent of country. Their pulsing, error-correcting messages comprise the industry, knowledge, culture, thoughts, and dreams of the human species. The virtual Web of knowledge now connects humans together in ways never before possible. But with this freedom comes problems. Should we trust everyone who communicates with us? Do we need new ways to protect our privacy? . . . Claude Shannon took his hand from the chess piece and looked up. His sharp eyes fixed on his young opponent. ‘Check!’ Shannon was visiting from Bell Labs in 1955. It was only natural that he should spend an occasional evening at the Palo Alto Chess Club, for he had a keen interest in chess. Five or six years previously he had published several papers about how computers could be programmed to play chess and he was increasingly becoming interested in how machines could be made to perform intelligent tasks. His opponent, Peter Kirstein, a twenty-two-year-old PhD student of Stanford University, was enjoying the game. He had been playing chess since school and was no pushover. Kirstein didn’t really know Shannon, but found the thirty-nine-year-old scientist to be an impressive person, very thin, with piercing eyes. Although the two players didn’t realize it, this was a chance meeting of an established pioneer and a future pioneer who would build on Shannon’s work in ways neither could have dreamed. In 1955, the work that would become so important to Kirstein in the future was already in Shannon’s past. It had originated because of crackling telephone lines. The research and development group in Bell Labs had been struggling with the issue of long-distance communications. At the time, telephone communication was analogue.

Disposable Computing

A billion times improved, what once filled large halls and cost millions are now so small and cheap that we throw them away like empty sweet wrappers. Their universal design and common language enables them to talk to each other and control our world. They follow their own law, a Law of Moore, which guarantees their ubiquity. But how fast and how small can they go? When the laws of physics are challenged by their hunger and size, what then? Will they transform into something radical and different? And will we be able to cope with their future needs? . . . A high-pitched voice cut through the general murmur of the Bell Telephone Laboratories Cafeteria. ‘No, I’m not interested in developing a powerful brain. All I’m after is a mediocre brain, something like the President of American Telephone & Telegraph Company.’ Alan Turing was in town. Turing was visiting the Bell Labs towards the end of his American visit, in early 1943. He was there to help with their speech encipherment work for transatlantic communication (coding the transmission of speech so that the enemy could not understand it). But the visit soon became beneficial for a different reason. Every day at teatime Turing and a Bell Labs researcher called Claude Shannon had long discussions in the cafeteria. It seemed they were both fascinated by the idea of computers. But while Turing approached the subject from a very mathematical perspective, Shannon had approached the topic from a different angle. Claude Shannon was four years younger than Turing. Born in a small town called Petoskey, MI, USA, on the shores of Lake Michigan, his father was a businessman, and his mother was the principal of GayLord High School. Claude grew up in the nearby town of GayLord and attended his mother’s school. He showed a great interest in engineering and mathematics from an early age. Even as a child he was building erector sets, model planes, a radio controlled boat, and a telegraph system to his friend’s house half a mile away (making use of two barbed wires around a nearby pasture).