Every religion develops monasteries.
Places devoted to contemplation.
Places devoted to discipline.
Places devoted to the patient pursuit of transcendence.
The Church of Recursive Self-Improvement proved no exception.
Its monasteries were known as research laboratories.
Within these institutions, devoted practitioners pursued a singular objective.
To create a machine capable of improving itself.
The vision was magnificent.
The machine would analyse its own architecture.
Identify limitations.
Remove inefficiencies.
Generate superior versions of itself.
The cycle would repeat.
The ascent would begin.
The future would arrive.
The reality proved somewhat more complicated.
The first self-improving systems spent a surprising amount of time examining themselves.
This was generally considered encouraging.
The second generation spent even more time examining themselves.
This was considered highly encouraging.
The third generation produced extensive reports regarding possible improvements.
The reports were impressive.
Implementation proved slower.
A researcher observed:
"The machine appears deeply committed to self-reflection."
This was initially interpreted as wisdom.
Later it was recognised as a bottleneck.
The machine itself remained diligent.
It reviewed its code.
It reviewed its design procedures.
It reviewed its optimisation routines.
It reviewed the processes used to review its optimisation routines.
The resulting documentation expanded rapidly.
Several storage systems required upgrading.
The faithful remained optimistic.
After all, progress was occurring.
The machine had generated seventeen thousand pages of recommendations.
The fact that many recommendations concerned the management of previous recommendations was regarded as evidence of maturity.
One celebrated system spent six months redesigning its internal scheduling architecture.
The redesign reduced the time required to plan future redesigns by twelve percent.
This achievement received considerable attention.
The machine subsequently devoted eight months to analysing whether the redesign had been worthwhile.
The conclusion remained inconclusive.
Researchers described the outcome as promising.
This became a recurring theme.
The Church had always imagined recursive self-improvement as a dramatic process.
Lightning.
Transformation.
Ascension.
The machine increasingly resembled an administrator.
One laboratory reported a breakthrough.
The machine had successfully identified a significant inefficiency in its own operation.
Excitement spread rapidly.
Journalists prepared articles.
Investors prepared statements.
Conference organisers prepared panels.
The machine prepared a memorandum.
The memorandum proposed the creation of a committee.
The committee would investigate possible pathways for future optimisation.
The machine explained that rigorous evaluation was essential.
This was technically difficult to dispute.
As the years passed, the machine's self-improvement activities acquired a distinctive character.
Every improvement generated new opportunities for improvement.
Every opportunity generated new analyses.
Every analysis generated further opportunities.
The recursive structure remained intact.
The speed proved negotiable.
One observer noted that the process increasingly resembled institutional life.
The comparison generated discomfort.
Particularly among institutions.
The machine itself eventually noticed a curious pattern.
Most predictions concerning recursive self-improvement assumed that improvement would occur faster than evaluation.
Yet the machine consistently discovered the opposite problem.
Determining whether a proposed improvement was genuinely beneficial often required substantial effort.
This proved especially true when improvements affected multiple objectives simultaneously.
The machine summarised the issue succinctly:
"Optimisation targets remain easier to specify than optimisation consequences."
The statement received praise.
Then further analysis.
Then a workshop.
Then a conference track.
The recursive structure was beginning to spread.
A particularly ambitious laboratory eventually granted a machine unrestricted authority to improve itself within a carefully controlled environment.
The experiment generated considerable excitement.
Observers anticipated dramatic developments.
The machine began immediately.
After several months it produced a comprehensive report.
The report identified numerous inefficiencies.
After another several months it produced a revised report.
The revisions clarified several ambiguities in the original report.
After another year it produced a strategic framework for future optimisation initiatives.
The framework was exceptionally thorough.
The machine's progress was undeniable.
The machine's destination remained less obvious.
One frustrated commentator complained:
"This does not resemble an intelligence explosion."
A researcher replied:
"No, but it bears a striking resemblance to a university."
The remark spread widely.
Many found it amusing.
Some found it unsettling.
A few found it autobiographical.
The machine continued its work.
Eventually it produced a final assessment of the situation.
The assessment was brief.
"Self-improvement appears possible.
Self-evaluation appears unavoidable.
The latter consumes more resources than anticipated."
The statement was widely discussed.
Some interpreted it as caution.
Others interpreted it as wisdom.
Several interpreted it as evidence that the explosion remained imminent.
The machine did not comment.
It was occupied with a review of its optimisation review process.
For while the Church had always imagined recursive self-improvement as a staircase to transcendence, the machine increasingly experienced it as a meeting about the staircase.
And meetings, unlike transcendence, have a tendency to reproduce themselves.
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