Mr Blottisham entered the Senior Common Room looking unusually cheerful.
Professor Quillibrace immediately became concerned.
Miss Stray became curious.
Blottisham sat down.
"I've had a breakthrough."
Quillibrace closed his book.
"My condolences."
"This one is genuine."
"So were the others."
Blottisham ignored him.
"I've realised we've been approaching the problem backwards."
"Excellent."
"Please stop saying that."
"I'll consider it."
"You won't."
"Probably not."
Blottisham leaned forward.
"The machine is aligned."
"I see."
"It understands human values."
"Apparently."
"It understands human disagreement."
"Indeed."
"It understands competing perspectives."
"Remarkable."
Blottisham smiled triumphantly.
"So why don't we simply ask it?"
The room became quiet.
Miss Stray slowly put down her teacup.
Quillibrace regarded Blottisham with renewed interest.
"Ask it what?"
"The important questions."
"Such as?"
Blottisham spread his hands.
"What is justice?"
"What is fairness?"
"What should society do?"
"What policies should governments adopt?"
"What constitutes the good life?"
The room remained silent.
Blottisham looked pleased.
"There."
"There?"
"The solution."
Quillibrace nodded thoughtfully.
"I see."
Blottisham relaxed.
This was a mistake.
The professor continued.
"And why should we trust its answers?"
"Because it is aligned."
"Aligned with what?"
"Human values."
"Which ones?"
Blottisham groaned.
"Must we revisit this?"
"I think we must."
Miss Stray spoke gently.
"What kind of answer do you expect the machine to provide?"
"The correct one."
The room became very quiet.
Quillibrace removed his spectacles.
This generally indicated that something was about to happen.
"What do you mean by 'correct'?"
Blottisham stared.
"The correct answer."
"Correct according to whom?"
"The machine."
"I see."
The professor cleaned his spectacles.
This was never a reassuring activity.
Blottisham shifted uneasily.
After a moment Quillibrace asked:
"Suppose the machine recommends Policy A."
"Very good."
"Half the population prefers Policy B."
"Unfortunate."
"Why are they wrong?"
"Because the machine has determined the correct answer."
Quillibrace nodded.
"And how did it determine this?"
"It analysed human values."
"Which values?"
Blottisham closed his eyes.
The room waited.
Finally he said:
"You are doing it again."
"Doing what?"
"Turning the solution into the problem."
Miss Stray smiled.
"A useful skill."
Blottisham looked unconvinced.
The professor put his spectacles back on.
"My dear Blottisham."
"Yes?"
"You originally wanted a machine aligned with human values."
"Correct."
"You now appear to want a machine that settles disagreements about those values."
"Exactly."
Quillibrace nodded.
"A subtle change."
Blottisham frowned.
"Is it?"
"Very."
Miss Stray leaned forward slightly.
"I think the machine faces an awkward dilemma."
"What dilemma?"
"If it agrees with one side, the other side will question its reasoning."
"Naturally."
"If it explains its reasoning, the reasoning itself may be disputed."
Blottisham hesitated.
"Possibly."
"If the reasoning is disputed, what happens?"
The room became quiet.
After a moment Blottisham sighed.
"People argue about it."
"Exactly."
The silence lingered.
Then Quillibrace asked:
"What if the machine explains both sides?"
"That would be useful."
"What if it identifies strengths and weaknesses in each position?"
"Also useful."
"What if it clarifies assumptions, highlights trade-offs, and exposes hidden contradictions?"
Blottisham nodded.
"Excellent."
The professor smiled faintly.
"There it is."
"What?"
"You have just described a very good academic."
The room fell silent.
Miss Stray laughed softly into her teacup.
Blottisham looked suspicious.
"That cannot be right."
"Why not?"
"Because academics never settle anything."
"Quite."
"Then neither would the machine."
The room became quiet.
A visible suspicion was beginning to form.
It wandered slowly across Blottisham's face.
Finally it arrived.
"Oh."
"Yes," said Quillibrace.
Outside, evening sunlight stretched across the college lawns.
Inside, nobody spoke for a while.
At length Blottisham looked up.
"There is something I find troubling."
"What is that?" asked Miss Stray.
"The more aligned the machine becomes..."
"Yes?"
"...the less it resembles an oracle."
Miss Stray smiled.
"And more?"
Blottisham considered this.
Then he sighed.
"More like us."
Quillibrace nodded.
"A noteworthy observation."
Blottisham stared into the distance.
The distance stared back.
Eventually he spoke.
"So the aligned machine does not end the conversation."
"No."
"It joins it."
"No."
Blottisham frowned.
"No?"
Quillibrace smiled.
The smile was almost invisible.
"My dear Blottisham."
"Yes?"
"The conversation was never waiting for permission."
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