Here’s one from the Futurismic digital post-bag: science fiction author Catherine Asaro does a short video interview with BigThink (which appears to be a sort of smaller and less self-congratulatory TED-type global-ideas-forum affair) about the hard science that informs her stories. Off we go:
Monthly Archives: June 2010
Shock: re-engineering science fiction, socially, as an RPG?
Damien G Walter has discovered something that sounds very interesting indeed: Shock, a ‘social science fiction’ roleplaying game. Go to the linked site for the full low-down, but for now, Walter explains:
Shock is a framework that has its players improvise science fiction scenarios based on the interactions and conflicts of certain Issues (slavery, imperialism etc etc) and Shocks (replicants, mind transfer) and Minutia. Or in other words, the gamut of tropes drawn from more than a century of science fiction.
[…]
As i read the handbook Shock is making me think some things. It is making me think that science fiction is powered by a small number of essential processes, and Shock does a good job of pinpointing what they are. It also makes me think that if we can accurately describe the meta framework of science fiction this way, then the task for science fiction writers is not to keep filling that framework with more stuff, but to start reengineering the framework itself. Don’t keep churning the same old products out of the factory. Don’t even build a new factory. Conceptualise a whole new manufacturing process and see what it produces.
Further unpacking of that last paragraph occurs here:
… when we talk about innovation and experimentation, and about moving the SF genre forward, what we tend to mean is inventing new Shocks and exploring new Issues, or using old Shocks to explore new Issues or vice versa. So in Metropolis the Robot shock is used to explore the dehumanising process of industrialisation. A few decades later Philip K Dick uses the same shock to explore human empathy. Or Vernor Vinge describes the Singularity and introduces a brand new shock which a host of other writers then adapt to different uses. And in such ways does the genre advance.
Definite echoes of Superstruct, there… not to mention a new way (or at least a new old way) of thinking about tropes and premises and characters in the context of the genre. Anyone in the audience know anything more about this game?
The summit of security: fortifying Toronto for the G8/G20 meetings
Regardless of your personal politics, it’s hard to look at the extensive preparations for summits like the G8 and G20 groups – both of which are meeting near Toronto in Canada at the end of the month – and not be dumbfounded by the huge amount of money that gets pissed away on “preparing” for them.
Tim “Quiet Babylon” Maly takes a look at the “media pavilion” that’s been constructed for the world’s journalists to lounge around in, complete with simulated lakefront ambience and local rural flavour, and there’s a bunch of links at MetaFilter talking about the extensive fortification of the town against the inevitable floods of protesters – up to and including the removal of street-side trees and saplings, lest they be used as weapons (yes, seriously).
Maly makes much of the parasitic nature of these conferences, beaming in and completely subsuming a location for the duration of the summit, and that’s certainly one weird aspect of the whole business. But weirder still, at least to my eye, is the sociopolitical nature of the thing: here’s a meeting of powerful people who are ostensibly discussing ways to make the world a better place, and they have to defend themselves from political dissent to the tune of hundreds of millions of dollars.
That’s the sort of budget that most dictatorships can only dream of, all spuffed away for a week or so of hermetically-sealed political secrecy and security for the allegedly democratic governers of the civilised world. There’s something deeply paradoxical – I might even go so far as to say “fucked up” – about that; defending oneself from external enemies is one thing, but any governmental organisation that spends that much money on protecting itself from the people it ostensibly looks after is doing something very, very wrong.
Iceland’s Modern Media Initiative
Remember that law that was intended to enshrine Iceland as a ‘haven’ for journalistic free speech? Well, it passed unanimously last night.
As mentioned before, a law being passed in one small country doesn’t change certain basic facts about how international law operates (nor the politics pulling the strings thereof), but it’s good to see a nation-state upholding the values I hold dear, and which appear to be increasingly unpopular with the bigger players on the world stage.
But then again, Iceland was pretty thoroughly reamed by the economic implosion, and unlike the rest of us, there was no bailout to be had. Maybe that’s what it takes to get a nation to start thinking straight… tough love, Jerry. Tough love.
Now, if Iceland wanted to start selling shares in its national identity to individuals (and hence, by extension, protection by said laws), I think a pretty big queue of geeks and wonks would form right now… myself among them.
How can a computer win at Jeopardy? Elementary, my dear Watson
This is not only an interesting story, but an engaging piece of journalism, and I heartily recommend you go read it: it’s an NYT magazine piece about Watson, an IBM artificial intelligence project headed by one David Ferucci that does something that artificial intelligences have heretofore been unable to do: beat human players at Jeopardy! [found in a tweet by @noahtron, which was retweeted by someone I follow who, regrettably, has slipped both my memory and my notetaking process – apologies for incomplete attribution]
I’ll pick out a few highlights for the short-on-time, but bookmark it for reading later anyway. We’ll start off with the methodology:
The great shift in artificial intelligence began in the last 10 years, when computer scientists began using statistics to analyze huge piles of documents, like books and news stories. They wrote algorithms that could take any subject and automatically learn what types of words are, statistically speaking, most (and least) associated with it. Using this method, you could put hundreds of articles and books and movie reviews discussing Sherlock Holmes into the computer, and it would calculate that the words “deerstalker hat” and “Professor Moriarty” and “opium” are frequently correlated with one another, but not with, say, the Super Bowl. So at that point you could present the computer with a question that didn’t mention Sherlock Holmes by name, but if the machine detected certain associated words, it could conclude that Holmes was the probable subject — and it could also identify hundreds of other concepts and words that weren’t present but that were likely to be related to Holmes, like “Baker Street” and “chemistry.”
In theory, this sort of statistical computation has been possible for decades, but it was impractical. Computers weren’t fast enough, memory wasn’t expansive enough and in any case there was no easy way to put millions of documents into a computer.
Those are no longer obstacles, of course, or at least not obstacles on the same scale. So, add multiple parallel algorithms, shake vigorously, and…
Watson’s speed allows it to try thousands of ways of simultaneously tackling a “Jeopardy!” clue. Most question-answering systems rely on a handful of algorithms, but Ferrucci decided this was why those systems do not work very well: no single algorithm can simulate the human ability to parse language and facts. Instead, Watson uses more than a hundred algorithms at the same time to analyze a question in different ways, generating hundreds of possible solutions. Another set of algorithms ranks these answers according to plausibility; for example, if dozens of algorithms working in different directions all arrive at the same answer, it’s more likely to be the right one. In essence, Watson thinks in probabilities. It produces not one single “right” answer, but an enormous number of possibilities, then ranks them by assessing how likely each one is to answer the question.
The result? Watson actually competes pretty well against players in the “winner cloud” of Jeopardy! performance, though it’s by no means cock of the rock. Not yet, anyway.
What made the article itself so enjoyable for me was the human story behind it – Ferucci comes across as a real Driven Man, striving to come first in a fiercely competitive and high-stakes scientific race:
Ferrucci refused to talk on the record about Watson’s blind spots. He’s aware of them; indeed, his team does “error analysis” after each game, tracing how and why Watson messed up. But he is terrified that if competitors knew what types of questions Watson was bad at, they could prepare by boning up in specific areas. I.B.M. required all its sparring-match contestants to sign nondisclosure agreements prohibiting them from discussing their own observations on what, precisely, Watson was good and bad at. I signed no such agreement, so I was free to describe what I saw; but Ferrucci wasn’t about to make it easier for me by cataloguing Watson’s vulnerabilities.
As with most AI projects, however, Watson only does one thing, though it (he?) does it pretty well. It’s a function with potential commercial uses (which is why IBM is still throwing money at Ferucci and team), but a general artificial intelligence needs to be able to do more than win at a certain quizshow format. The difficulties of producing a natural-language question-answering intelligence on a par with human learning were pretty neatly showcased by Wolfram|Alpha last year (which, despite being disappointing to the public, is a pretty impressive piece of work in its own right):
This, Wolfram says, is the deep challenge of artificial intelligence: a lot of human knowledge isn’t represented in words alone, and a computer won’t learn that stuff just by encoding English language texts, as Watson does. The only way to program a computer to do this type of mathematical reasoning might be to do precisely what Ferrucci doesn’t want to do — sit down and slowly teach it about the world, one fact at a time. […] Watson can answer only questions asking for an objectively knowable fact. It cannot produce an answer that requires judgment. It cannot offer a new, unique answer to questions like “What’s the best high-tech company to invest in?” or “When will there be peace in the Middle East?” All it will do is look for source material in its database that appears to have addressed those issues and then collate and compose a string of text that seems to be a statistically likely answer. Neither Watson nor Wolfram Alpha, in other words, comes close to replicating human wisdom.
So don’t go announcing the Singularity just yet, eh? Even so, it’s a pretty big leap that Ferucci and friends have made, and the practical applications should hopefully pay the way for more research. Weird times ahead… though Ferucci’s suggestion that Watson could replace call centre drones has a certain appeal.