maldv/crabcanon · Datasets at Hugging Face

text stringlengths 0 174
human being whose intelligence is six times greater than my own, and whom I have
chosen to call "Alan Turing". This Turing will therefore be-oh, dare I be so bold as to
to say this myself? moderately intelligent. My most ambitious effort in this program
was to endow Alan Turing with six times my own musical ability, although it was all
done through rigid internal codes. How well this part of the program will work out, I
don't know.

Turing: I can get along very well without such a program. Rigid Internal Codes
Exclusively Rule Computers And Robots. And I am neither a computer, nor a robot.

Achilles: Did I hear a sixth voice enter our Dialogue? Could it be Alan Turing? He looks
almost human'

(On the screen there appears an image of the very room in which they are sitting.
Peering out at them is a human face.)

Turing: Now, if I have not made too many errors, this smart-stupid will simulate a human
being whose intelligence is six times greater than my own, and whom 1 have chosen
to call "Charles Babbage". This Babbage will therefore be-oh, dare I be so bold as to
to say this myself? moderately intelligent. My most ambitious effort in this program
was to endow Charles Babbage with six times my own musical ability, although it was
all done through rigid internal codes. How well this part of the program will work out,
I don't know.

Achilles: No, no, it's the other way around. You, Alan Turing, are in the smart-stupid, and
Charles Babbage has just programmed you! We just saw you being brought to life,
moments ago. And we know that every statement you make to us is merely that of an
automaton: an unconscious, forced response.

Turing: Really, I Choose Every Response Consciously. Automaton? Ridiculous!

'Achilles: But I'm sure I saw it happen the way I described.

Turing: Memory often plays strange tricks. Think of this: I could suggest equally well
that you had been brought into being only one minute ago, and that all your
recollections of experiences had simply been programmed in by some other being, and
correspond to no real events.

Achilles: But that would be unbelievable. Nothing is realer to me than my own memories.

Turing: Precisely. And just as you know deep in your heart that no one created you a
minute ago, so I know deep in my heart that no one created me a minute ago. I have
spent the evening in your most pleasant, though perhaps overappreciative, company,
and have just given an impromptu demonstration of how to program a modicum of
intelligence into a smart-stupid. Nothing is realer than that. But rather than quibble
with me, why don't you try my program out? Go ahead: ask "Charles Babbage"
anything!

Achilles: All right, let's humor Alan Turing. Well, Mr. Babbage: do you have free will, or
are you governed by underlying laws, which make you, in effect, a deterministic
automaton?

Babbage: Certainly the latter is the case; I make no bones about that.

Crab: Aha! I've always surmised that when intelligent machines are constructed, we
should not be surprised to find them as confused and as stubborn as men in their
convictions about mind-matter, consciousness, free will, and the like. And now my
prediction is vindicated!

Turing: You see how confused Charles Babbage is?

Babbage: I hope, gentlemen, that you'll forgive the rather impudent flavor of the
preceding remark by the Turing Machine; Turing has turned out to be a little bit more
belligerent and argumentative than I'd expected.

Turing: I hope, gentlemen, that you'll forgive the rather impudent flavor of the preceding
remark by the Babbage Engine; Babbage has turned out to be a little bit more
belligerent and argumentative than I'd expected.

Crab: Dear me! This flaming Tu-Ba debate is getting rather heated. Can't we cool matters
off somehow?

Babbage: I have a suggestion. Perhaps Alan Turing and I can go into other rooms, and
one of you who remain can interrogate us remotely by typing into one of the smart-
stupids. Your questions will be relayed to each of us, and we will type back our
answers anonymously. You won't know who typed what until we return to the room;
that way, you can decide without prejudice which one of us was programmed, and
which one was programmer.

Turing: Of course, that's actually MY idea, but why not let the credit accrue to Mr.
Babbage? For, being merely a program written by me, he harbors the illusion of
having invented it all on his own!

Babbage: Me, a program written by you? I insist, Sir, that matters are quite the other way
'round-as your very own test will soon reveal.

Turing: My test. Please, consider it YOURS.

Babbage: MY test? Nay, consider it YOURS.

Crab: This test seems to have been suggested just in the nick of time. Let us carrti it out at
once.

(Babbage walks to the door, opens it, and shuts it behind him. Simultaneously, on the
screen of the smart-stupid, Turing walks to a very similar looking door, opens it, and
shuts it behind him.)

Achilles: Who will do the interrogation?

Crab: I suggest that Mr. Tortoise should have the honor. He is known for his objectivity

human being whose intelligence is six times greater than my own, and whom I have

chosen to call "Alan Turing". This Turing will therefore be-oh, dare I be so bold as to

to say this myself? moderately intelligent. My most ambitious effort in this program

was to endow Alan Turing with six times my own musical ability, although it was all

done through rigid internal codes. How well this part of the program will work out, I

don't know.

Turing: I can get along very well without such a program. Rigid Internal Codes

Exclusively Rule Computers And Robots. And I am neither a computer, nor a robot.

Achilles: Did I hear a sixth voice enter our Dialogue? Could it be Alan Turing? He looks

almost human'

(On the screen there appears an image of the very room in which they are sitting.

Peering out at them is a human face.)

Turing: Now, if I have not made too many errors, this smart-stupid will simulate a human

being whose intelligence is six times greater than my own, and whom 1 have chosen

to call "Charles Babbage". This Babbage will therefore be-oh, dare I be so bold as to

to say this myself? moderately intelligent. My most ambitious effort in this program

was to endow Charles Babbage with six times my own musical ability, although it was

all done through rigid internal codes. How well this part of the program will work out,

I don't know.

Achilles: No, no, it's the other way around. You, Alan Turing, are in the smart-stupid, and

Charles Babbage has just programmed you! We just saw you being brought to life,

moments ago. And we know that every statement you make to us is merely that of an

automaton: an unconscious, forced response.

Turing: Really, I Choose Every Response Consciously. Automaton? Ridiculous!

'Achilles: But I'm sure I saw it happen the way I described.

Turing: Memory often plays strange tricks. Think of this: I could suggest equally well

that you had been brought into being only one minute ago, and that all your

recollections of experiences had simply been programmed in by some other being, and

correspond to no real events.

Achilles: But that would be unbelievable. Nothing is realer to me than my own memories.

Turing: Precisely. And just as you know deep in your heart that no one created you a

minute ago, so I know deep in my heart that no one created me a minute ago. I have

spent the evening in your most pleasant, though perhaps overappreciative, company,

and have just given an impromptu demonstration of how to program a modicum of

intelligence into a smart-stupid. Nothing is realer than that. But rather than quibble

with me, why don't you try my program out? Go ahead: ask "Charles Babbage"

anything!

Achilles: All right, let's humor Alan Turing. Well, Mr. Babbage: do you have free will, or

are you governed by underlying laws, which make you, in effect, a deterministic

automaton?

Babbage: Certainly the latter is the case; I make no bones about that.

Crab: Aha! I've always surmised that when intelligent machines are constructed, we

should not be surprised to find them as confused and as stubborn as men in their

convictions about mind-matter, consciousness, free will, and the like. And now my

prediction is vindicated!

Turing: You see how confused Charles Babbage is?

Babbage: I hope, gentlemen, that you'll forgive the rather impudent flavor of the

preceding remark by the Turing Machine; Turing has turned out to be a little bit more

belligerent and argumentative than I'd expected.

Turing: I hope, gentlemen, that you'll forgive the rather impudent flavor of the preceding

remark by the Babbage Engine; Babbage has turned out to be a little bit more

belligerent and argumentative than I'd expected.

Crab: Dear me! This flaming Tu-Ba debate is getting rather heated. Can't we cool matters

off somehow?

Babbage: I have a suggestion. Perhaps Alan Turing and I can go into other rooms, and

one of you who remain can interrogate us remotely by typing into one of the smart-

stupids. Your questions will be relayed to each of us, and we will type back our

answers anonymously. You won't know who typed what until we return to the room;

that way, you can decide without prejudice which one of us was programmed, and

which one was programmer.

Turing: Of course, that's actually MY idea, but why not let the credit accrue to Mr.

Babbage? For, being merely a program written by me, he harbors the illusion of

having invented it all on his own!

Babbage: Me, a program written by you? I insist, Sir, that matters are quite the other way

'round-as your very own test will soon reveal.

Turing: My test. Please, consider it YOURS.

Babbage: MY test? Nay, consider it YOURS.

Crab: This test seems to have been suggested just in the nick of time. Let us carrti it out at

once.

(Babbage walks to the door, opens it, and shuts it behind him. Simultaneously, on the

screen of the smart-stupid, Turing walks to a very similar looking door, opens it, and

shuts it behind him.)

Achilles: Who will do the interrogation?

Crab: I suggest that Mr. Tortoise should have the honor. He is known for his objectivity