Smartystan

One synth walked up to a learned machine. The synthetic being greeted itself to the machine. They exchanged codes. They talked for a good while. They cajoled. The bluish purple of the synth contrasted the yellow and black of the learned machine. In essence, they had become intertwined due to their makers’ craftsmanship. By keeping in the realm of knowledge, their trade of ideas allowed them both to keep up with systems of mathematics.

Both of them walked around each other just spewing out data to better know the other. Belinda and Dr. Frampton rejoiced at this interaction. In an instant, the stream of understanding cascaded from synth to the learned machine and back again. The learned machine had been shaped like a person but used metal framing to construct its body. The synth used materials similar to human tissue and bone. Whatever their build, they found themselves shooting out as much information as possible. It became a game. The power of their bond seemed to be genuine and technologically sound. When they expressed certain algorithms, it was like a symphony had been playing in a hall. This understanding of each other made it all the better. Then, the learned machine collapsed. The synth helped it back up to its feet with some effort. It may have been a system overload. It may have been a glitch in its code. Whatever the case may have been, they found each other in the others’ arms.

The language they spoke had been more advanced than English. It was like a stream of something more than zeroes and ones. Each line contained within it something that both of the creators could only comprehend if they slowed it down and chopped up the “words.” As the machine staggered to its feet after falling again and held onto the synth’s elbows, they both had a moment of knowledge that the other one could understand. In the instant that they knew how to counteract the motions of the other, they knew what to do with the sense of themselves. A dance, albeit awkward at first, showed the near-human with the rigid rubber and metallic creation. The synthetic being twirled the learned machine around and performed dips and even a split. Could this little dance be called “the human”?

As the two of them slid and threw their arms towards the sky, Belinda and Dr. Frampton recorded every action. Nothing became just a simple movement. All of the motions reminded them of the days where they stood hunched over matter and materials that would construct these forms. They experienced profound rapture at noticing their creations had been able to communicate. It took no time to realize that they had something once again. Well, at least not another disaster. When synths and learned machines first came onto the scene, they only fought one another. This was no miracle, but it came close.

“What do you think, Kaija? Will we see our efforts finally live amicably amongst one another?”

Dr. Frampton frowned. “I think we’re still in the phase of ensuring that they’ll be able to interact with one another only to accommodate human beings.” Bellinda shook her hair and smirked a bit. She became under the spell of the two beings showing off and displaying a competency that befit the best minds of the new nation.

In their quest for finding the balance between the various ways that synth and machine could express their talents and their capabilities, Dr. Frampton and Belinda kept returning to the same fact; they weren’t human. Whatever error they showed resulted from the series of code already implanted in them. Then they stopped. Frozen. The activity of their limbs and the functioning of their central processing unit seemed to fail.

“I didn’t see that coming,” Belinda admitted.

“It was inevitable,” Dr. Frampton said with nonchalance. “If you want to get a full understanding of the bits and bytes, you’ve gotta look within at this very moment.”

“Where the boys stand on this, we’ve not a clue,” Belinda acknowledged.

Dr. Frampton laughed. “I know. They’re doing their thing and keeping away from us because they’re not ready for this. It is actually a step towards wholeness,” the doctor said. Her voice was low and solemn as if repeating a prayer.

Belinda walked around and shook her head slightly, her hair bouncing off her blouse. Dr. Frampton did the same, her short haircut brought about a similar effect.

“If we can combine the various learned machines and match them with the synths, we should have a plethora of beings that will do work that our current folks would like to stop. The peach pickers would all be replaced, if they like, by the machines and the synths,” Dr. Frampton pointed out while observing the dancing creations.

“Absolutely, this should blow away anyone who thought they had to clean floors. As well as they do and with such competence, this kind of synergy will show that the men and women who thought they had to lay tar on roofs would be relegated to that task. Not anymore. Not after this.”

Dr. Frampton observed again. She noticed that Belinda trailed her and that she brought in a certain sisterly quality to it. They circled the track with classical music now pumping through the speakers. Lights dimmed and lasers cut through the smoke from the fog machines. The two women seized the opportunity to consider a merger between UltraMinds and SynthNetwork. Their next move consisted of going into an adjacent office and pulling out a pen and pad. Old school. Dr. Frampton crossed her legs and began to jot.

“Okay, I get fifty one percent.”

“I don’t even need that much interest. Give me one percent,” Belinda chimed.

“You’re sure.”

“This is going to be a trillion-dollar company. We will be making more money than we have in our respective firms. You keep it. I just want to see these things interact. That’s all I want. Nothing more.”