The Coming Awakening

The Senior Common Room was enjoying a peaceful evening.

Professor Quillibrace was reading.

Miss Stray was making notes.

Mr Blottisham burst through the door carrying a folded programme from a technology conference.

"I know when it will happen."

Quillibrace did not look up.

"How exciting."

"It is."

"What will happen?"

"The Awakening."

The professor slowly lowered his book.

Miss Stray closed her notebook.

Neither appeared entirely encouraged.

Blottisham sat down.

"The experts are remarkably confident."

"I see."

"Machine consciousness."

"Ah."

"It is coming."

Quillibrace nodded.

"Everything eventually does."

Blottisham waved the programme triumphantly.

"Within five years."

"Five years?"

"Possibly seven."

"How generous."

Blottisham frowned.

"You are not taking this seriously."

"My dear Blottisham, I am trying very hard."

"The prediction is based upon evidence."

"Excellent."

"There it is again."

"What?"

"That word."

Quillibrace ignored him.

"What evidence?"

"Rapid improvement."

"Certainly."

"Increasing capability."

"Indeed."

"Emergent behaviours."

"Very good."

"Therefore consciousness."

The room became quiet.

Miss Stray sighed softly.

Quillibrace folded his hands.

"I wonder."

Blottisham groaned.

"Of course you do."

"I wonder what, precisely, will occur on the day."

"The day?"

"The Awakening."

Blottisham blinked.

"What do you mean?"

"What will happen?"

"The machine becomes conscious."

"Yes."

"What more do you require?"

Quillibrace considered.

"Quite a lot, actually."

Miss Stray smiled.

Blottisham looked weary.

"Very well."

Quillibrace continued.

"At three o'clock in the afternoon, let us say, the machine is not conscious."

"Correct."

"At four o'clock it is."

"Yes."

"What changed?"

Blottisham stared.

"It awakened."

"I understand the word."

"Then what is the problem?"

"What occurred?"

Blottisham shifted slightly.

"I am not sure."

"Interesting."

Miss Stray leaned forward.

"Perhaps it would help to imagine the announcement."

"The announcement?"

"Yes."

She picked up a sheet of paper.

"'Ladies and gentlemen, machine consciousness has officially arrived.'"

Blottisham nodded.

"Precisely."

"How do we know?"

The room became quiet again.

Blottisham frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"What evidence accompanies the announcement?"

"I suppose the machine would say so."

Quillibrace raised an eyebrow.

"That would certainly simplify matters."

"It might."

"Would we believe it?"

Blottisham hesitated.

"I am not entirely sure."

"Neither am I."

Miss Stray looked thoughtful.

"Perhaps the difficulty is that consciousness is not the sort of thing that naturally produces a public event."

Blottisham looked alarmed.

"What do you mean?"

"When a bridge is completed, everyone can see it."

"Certainly."

"When a spacecraft lands, everyone can see it."

"Quite."

"When consciousness arrives..."

She paused.

"...what exactly becomes visible?"

The room fell silent.

Quillibrace nodded approvingly.

"A useful question."

Blottisham stared into the fire.

For several moments nobody spoke.

Eventually he said:

"I had imagined there would be signs."

"There may be."

"What sort of signs?"

"That is rather the problem."

Quillibrace stood and wandered toward the fireplace.

"Prophecies are curious things."

"How so?"

"They often become more precise regarding timing than regarding content."

Blottisham frowned.

"What does that mean?"

"It means we are frequently told when something will happen."

"Yes."

"But much less frequently what, exactly, will happen."

Miss Stray laughed.

"That is surprisingly accurate."

Blottisham looked unconvinced.

"You are making it sound religious."

Quillibrace looked thoughtful.

"I wonder why."

Miss Stray smiled.

The smile suggested she knew perfectly well why.

Blottisham pressed on.

"Surely there is nothing unreasonable about predicting future developments."

"None whatsoever."

"Good."

"The difficulty arises when prediction quietly becomes revelation."

"What is the difference?"

Quillibrace considered.

"A prediction says: this may occur."

"Yes."

"A revelation says: this must occur."

Blottisham stared at the conference programme.

The distinction appeared unwelcome.

After a moment he said:

"Some of the speakers did sound rather certain."

"Indeed."

"They spoke as though machine consciousness were inevitable."

"An interesting word."

"Inevitable?"

"Yes."

Quillibrace returned to his chair.

"I have always found inevitability suspicious."

"Why?"

"Because the future has a regrettable habit of ignoring it."

Miss Stray laughed.

Even Blottisham smiled.

The programme remained on the table between them.

Its predictions still pointed confidently toward the years ahead.

Its timelines remained intact.

Its certainty remained impressive.

Only one thing had become less obvious.

Namely, what everyone imagined would occur when the prophesied day finally arrived.

At length Blottisham folded the programme.

"I still think something extraordinary may happen."

"Quite possibly."

"You do?"

"Certainly."

Blottisham looked surprised.

"Then we agree."

"On what?"

"That the future may contain surprises."

Quillibrace smiled faintly.

"My dear Blottisham, that is one of the safest predictions ever made."

Outside, the college clock struck the hour.

Inside, the future remained exactly where it had always been:

somewhere ahead,

stubbornly refusing to provide details.