How It Ends: Part 1 - The Evaluation (6 page)

“Yes,” he repeated. “I’m Sidney Hermann.
This is Anita Lory.”

“Good morning. I am Dr. Kilgore.”

Sidney grasped the metal hand. It was warm
and soft through the latex glove. It surprised him. He knew from
his review of the schematics that Kilgore had an internally heated
silicon hand. Yet it still surprised him.

“You have questions, perhaps?” said the
robot. “Many if not all of which are regarding?”

“Yes. I do. How did you know? A guess, or
…?”

“I have a significant amount of programming
designed for facial pattern recognition. I would be a poor doctor
indeed if I were unable to evaluate human expression. The
programming actually covers full body expression recognition. The
official artificial intelligence term that is used is cognitive
expression recognition, or CER, but that is probably more
information than you truly need.”

“Not at all. I find this all utterly
fascinating.”

Anita frantically rummaged through her bag
looking for a clean notepad and a pen to starting writing notes.
Kilgore appeared to take no notice of her actions.

The robot had no physical imperfections,
though the mere state of robot was itself considered an
imperfection by some. Most of society felt this superiority. The
robot was physically stronger. The robot was more durable. The
robot was easily repaired. The robot had a faster processor. Some
could even be programmed with emotions. But the robot had no soul.
A soul required programming beyond the capacity of humanity. Ergo,
the robot was inferior.

“Perhaps we should begin at the beginning,
as they say,” said the robot. “Let us walk as we talk so we do not
block the entrance to the elevator.”

Drs. Hermann and Kilgore, and Anita, walked
slowly down the corridor of the geriatric ward of the hospital. The
walls were painted beige like most hallways in most hospitals. The
trim was light green. Soothing colors to those in this ward, most
of who were there for end of life care. Sidney marveled at the
robot as they moved forward. Anita looked up from her notebook and
gave it an artist’s eye. She sketched a hasty gesture drawing. She
scribbled a quick physical description. There was much to marvel
over. For her it was the lack of legs. Below the pant cuffs was
nothing. The robot had been fitted with antigravity generators that
allowed it to float. Effortless movement.

“Dr. Kilgore, have you been informed of the
reason for my visit?” asked Sidney.

“Yes. Your agenda was uploaded to me last
night during my power and data cycle.”

“Do you, then, understand the premise of
this evaluation?”

He had difficulty reading how the robot was
processing his questions. He saw no holographic facial responses.
He had to remind himself that Kilgore was not alive. Not he.
It.

“As I interpret your agenda, you have come
to do a comprehensive study of the effectiveness of robotic
doctors. Further, the fact that I specialize in the care and
concern of the elderly and those at the end of their life, which in
general is defined as having a terminal illness with a prognosis of
six months or less left to live is an additional point of
evaluation, given my proximity to human mortality.”

“Wow. That’s some interpretation. Nearly on
the nose.”

“Nearly?”

Sidney cocked his head. Was that arrogance
he’d just heard?

“Yes, nearly. You’re interpretation is
accurate at one level, but you dug too deep. This isn’t really
about end of life care and the treatment of the elderly at the
hands, per se, of a robotic doctor. This is the overall
effectiveness of the robotic doctor program, no matter the field of
practice.”

“Naturally,” answered the robot. “I did
indeed analyze at too deep a level. Thank you.”

“What can you tell me about your
qualifications?”

“I have a medical degree from Brown
University. I graduated magna cum laude and was given serious
consideration for valedictorian. I did my residency at the
University of Massachusetts Memorial Campus where I chose to study
geriatric medicine. I was then brought back here and placed in my
current medical position.”

“Chose?” asked Anita. She was scribbling
quickly in handwriting only she would be able to read later.

“Excuse me?”

“You said you chose your field of
study?”

“Yes.”

“It was not assigned in your
programming?”

“No.”

“Interesting,” she said. She scribbled some
more. Sidney looked at her. She didn’t notice it. Had she, she
would have seen a nervous combination of pride and annoyance. He
wanted to tell her not to interrupt his chain of thought, of
questioning. At the same time she picked up on the outliers of this
robot and his dialog quickly. Adroitly.

I can see why Brian is so smitten with
her
, he thought.
I can see why he keeps her around despite
his penchant for disposable women. Girls, really. This girl is
going to give him a challenge. Whether he knows it or not.

“Can I ask why you went to school?” Anita
asked, “I would have thought you would have simply had all the
medical knowledge you need loaded as part of, I don’t know, some
kind of base programming.”

“A reasonable question,” Kilgore said. “The
fact is that my knowledge, both of general medicine and the
specifics of my chosen specialty, could indeed have been loaded
upon brain initialization. However, one of the aspects of the
robotic doctor program that was thoroughly researched was the
social aspect of learning. I will retain anything that is placed
before me. But to understand the social nature of both learning and
medicine was considered essential to my development. My brain, of
course, is designed around the concept of recursive intelligence,
which means it is always learning.”

“How did that work?” Anita asked.

Kilgore’s artificial face turned to consider
her. It was silent for a moment. The moment was long enough for
Sidney to wonder whether the robot had experienced a hiccup in its
processing.

“I am sorry, but I do not think I fully
understand your question.”

The response was formal. Sidney realized
that all of Kilgore’s responses had been that formal. He wondered
whether that was part of the base programming. Or are idioms and
contractions something you learn? So why didn’t this robot?

“I have to admit, I’m not sure what you
meant by that question either,” Sidney said.

“Well,” Anita said, addressing the robot,
“you went to school, right? You went to classes. Or at least I
assume you did. Did you take classes with other students? What was
that like? What did they think of you? Did they know why a robot
was in classes with them? What was their reaction? You know, how
did they feel?”

Sidney held up his hands. “Slow down, Anita.
That’s a lot of questions at once.”

Anita said, “I know. I guess what I’m trying
to ask is, knowing how secretive robotics companies are with their
product, how did such an advanced prototype like you end up in the
middle of what amounts to a social setting.”

Sidney looked at her. It was a question that
had still been forming in his own head, but that he’d not yet been
able to wrap lucidity around. Anita beat him to it. He almost
smiled.

“That is a very interesting question,”
Kilgore said. “And well stated, I might add.”

Anita blushed. This thing, this inanimate
object, had made her blush.
What a strange world
, Sidney
thought.

“Denlas-Kaptek made an arrangement with the
university. I was enrolled in the medical program and for this
Brown University was to given full access to me during the course
of my study, a prominent place in the promotional literature for
the robotic physician marketing campaign, and of course monetary
compensation. With regard to the secretiveness of the program, any
student that had enrolled in courses I was currently scheduled to
take were required to sign confidentiality agreements. I did not
see these agreements myself, but I understand them to be very
thorough and quite punishing if violated.”

“And during this period of schooling, you
chose your field of practice?” Sidney asked. His voice contained a
tone that suggested doubt. He wondered if Kilgore would pick up on
it.

“You have doubts regarding my ability to
choose a field of practice?” asked Kilgore.

“Well, perhaps a few,” he answered. Sidney
was impressed. He wondered how the robot would interpret
skepticism. Not that it had feelings to hurt. Not in this model. So
that shouldn’t be an issue.

Why then was something nervous tugging at
the back of his head?

“Because I am not human?” the robot
asked.

“In a word, yes.”

“Is there a statute that requires all
doctors to be humans?”

“Not that I am aware of.”

“Then why would you assume I would not be
able to make that type of selection and continue my education and
subsequent residency to become a fully licensed medical
doctor?”

“Perhaps because of my own poor
understanding of how the programming at so advanced a level works.
Perhaps,” he added before he thought better of it, “because of my
own prejudices.” That one could have backfired. But again, only if
emotions played a part, and with this model they didn’t.

“Perhaps because you’re nothing but a
machine,” said Anita, looking at her pad, still scribbling.

It was offhand, a cavalier remark, which
Anita cast out like an idiot savant fisherman who throws a line to
a shark with a toy rod and catches it. Sidney and Kilgore were both
silent. Both were staring at her. It took a moment for her to
realize the conversation had stalled and she looked up.

“What?”

“That was an interesting statement,” said
Kilgore. “One might even argue that it bordered on rude.”

“But you don’t have an emotive processor, so
you don’t process rude. Or do you?”

“I think it is perhaps too simple to say
that I do or do not process rude. I do not process it in the same
way a human might. I do not feel angry when someone is rude to me,
calls me a name, or insults me. But I do have a comprehensive
understanding of what rude is, both in speech and in behavior. I do
recognize it. Therefore, one could say I do process it.”

“Okay, so you recognize it. So what?” It was
as if she were being deliberately antagonistic.
What’s up with
this girl?
Sidney thought.

Again the robot was silent and merely stared
at Anita. She stared back waiting for a response. Sidney was far
less comfortable and wondered what would happen if a robot decided
it was in fact angry.

He needed to take back control of the
conversation.

“It interests me that you consciously
consider yourself a doctor.”

“I am a doctor.”

“Technically, yes.”

“Technically?”

“What I mean to say is that—at least as far
as I understand from my preliminary reading on the subject—the
other medical robot prototypes do not consider themselves doctors.
They are skilled in the administration of treatments for many major
types of illnesses, but they are not doctors. They have no degrees,
per se.”

“Please do not forget that I did attend an
institute of medical learning.”

“And that same institution made the
conscious decision not to give you a degree. You’re marks were
excellent, your technique flawless. But in the end, they felt they
couldn’t award you a degree.”

“I see.”

The robot said no more and Sidney began to
worry. Something in his gut was throwing up red flags. He knew it
was silly, laughable, even impossible—but he worried that he’d
offended the robot. Anita kept scribbling furiously.

“I’m sorry if I’ve insulted you, Dr.
Kilgore,” he said. Preemptory, though he couldn’t tell why.

“Please understand, Dr. Hermann, that I
cannot be insulted. I do not have any feelings. I run a large
number of specific pre-determined protocols to be called and
executed for nearly any given emotional situation. But perhaps
these issues are best explored as we begin a dialogue about me and
who I am, in reference to your evaluation.”

“Certainly,” said Sidney. He took a moment
to gather his thoughts before he proceeded. “Dr. Kilgore,” said
Sidney, “you should understand that I do know quite a bit about you
already. I’ve been given a fairly lengthy background history,
schematic design sheets, and documentation about you and your
programming. I’ve even seen a bit of the source code, though that
part is a bit beyond me. Formidable stuff, to say the least.”

“I would have been surprised if you had not
been given a full appraisal of my make and model, Dr. Hermann. And
might I say, there are few in this industry, professional or
professorial, as qualified to make such an evaluation.”

That surprised Sidney. He stopped
walking.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked. Was
this machine making fun of him?

“I am aware of your background, Dr.
Hermann.”

“Really?”

“Indeed. At the completion of the data
download during which time your visit agenda was transferred to me,
I then researched you on the New York University intranet.”

Sidney’s eyes widened. Anita stopped writing
and looked up.

“I thought the standard protocol for all
field models of any level was to disable external web browsing,”
she said. “I didn’t think any robot could access the web.”

“It is,” said Sidney. His heart beat
rapidly. “It’s called DIL.”

“That is correct,” said Kilgore. “The
Digital Information Lock-out protocol remains in place today. It
prohibits internal web access as well as external web access using
a third party machine.”

“Like a PC,” said Anita. It wasn’t really a
question.

Sidney nodded slowly. “There are far too
many viruses lurking online that could pose a danger to a robot’s
programming,” he said. “How did…?”