Re: Recycling/AI and super human computers

[David@interworld.com (David Levine)]

KellySt@aol.com wrote:
> Humans are a very adaptable species.  We will probably be worth trading with.
>  If not we have no obvious point of friction, so an intelegent A.I. species
> that didn't like us, would just leave.  (Thou a stupid one might try world
> conquest.)
> 
> Are you this paranoid about aliens?  How would you deal with a hyper evolved
> E.T.?  If you don't think we'ld be able to deal with domestic aliens of our
> own creation, how can we deal with ultra-E.T.s?
> 

This was forwarded to me recently.  You guys may have seen it
before.  If so, sorry.  It's the first time I saw it.  This
bit of the MiniLIT discussion reminded me of it:

-David

________________________________________________________________
_______________
From: Stecyk-Ramos, Polly on Tue, Jan 23, 1996 9:06 AM
Subject: FW: Meat
To: am@es; Anne Gillies; Berman, Andrea; 
DLynn.El_Segundo@xerox.com; Fitts,
David; Hwang, Erica; LEN9310@ACS.TAMU.EDU; Mom; Parsons, Carmen; 
STECYK  AMY
NATALIA

Rather imaginative - enjoy!
________________________________________________________________
_______________

light humor:


Imagine if you will... the leader of the fifth invader force 
speaking to
the commander in chief...

"They're made out of meat."

"Meat?"

"Meat. They're made out of meat."

"Meat?"

"There's no doubt about it. We picked several from different 
parts of the
planet, took them aboard our recon vessels, probed them all the 
way through.
They're
completely meat."

"That's impossible. What about the radio signals? The messages 
to the
stars."

"They use the radio waves to talk, but the signals don't come 
from them. The
signals come from machines."

"So who made the machines? That's who we want to contact."

"They made the machines. That's what I'm trying to tell you. 
Meat made the
machines."

"That's ridiculous. How can meat make a machine? You're asking 
me to
believe in sentient meat."

"I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. These creatures are the 
only sentient
race in the sector and they're made out of meat."

"Maybe they're like the Orfolei. You know, a carbon-based 
intelligence that
goes through a meat stage."

"Nope. They're born meat and they die meat. We studied them for 
several of
their life spans, which didn't take too long. Do you have any 
idea the life
span of meat?"

"Spare me. Okay, maybe they're only part meat. You know, like 
the Weddilei.
A meat head with an electron plasma brain inside."

"Nope. We thought of that, since they do have meat heads like 
the Weddilei.
But I told you, we probed them. They're meat all the way 
through."

"No brain?"

"Oh, there is a brain all right. It's just that the brain is 
made out of
meat!"

"So... what does the thinking?"

"You're not understanding, are you? The brain does the thinking. 
The meat."

"Thinking meat! You're asking me to believe in thinking meat!"

"Yes, thinking meat! Conscious meat! Loving meat. Dreaming meat. 
The meat is
the whole deal! Are you getting the picture?"

"Omigod. You're serious then. They're made out of meat."

"Finally, Yes. They are indeed made out meat. And they've been 
trying to
get in touch with us for almost a hundred of their years."

"So what does the meat have in mind?"

"First it wants to talk to us. Then I imagine it wants to 
explore the
universe, contact other sentients, swap ideas and information. 
The usual."

"We're supposed to talk to meat?"

"That's the idea. That's the message they're sending out by 
radio. 'Hello.
Anyone out there? Anyone home?' That sort of thing."

"They actually do talk, then. They use words, ideas, concepts?"

"Oh, yes. Except they do it with meat."

"I thought you just told me they used radio."

"They do, but what do you think is on the radio? Meat sounds. 
You know how
when you slap or flap meat it makes a noise? They talk by 
flapping their
meat
at each other. They can even sing by squirting air through their 
meat."

"Omigod. Singing meat. This is altogether too much. So what do 
you advise?"

"Officially or unofficially?"

"Both."

"Officially, we are required to contact, welcome, and log in any 
and all
sentient races or multibeings in the quadrant, without 
prejudice, fear, or
favor. Unofficially, I advise that we erase the records and 
forget the whole
thing."

"I was hoping you would say that."

"It seems harsh, but there is a limit. Do we really want to make 
contact
with meat?"

"I agree one hundred percent. What's there to say?" `Hello, 
meat. How's it
going?' But will this work? How many planets are we dealing with 
here?"

"Just one. They can travel to other planets in special meat 
containers, but
they can't live on them. And being meat, they only travel 
through C space.
Which limits them to the speed of light and makes the 
possibility of their
ever making contact pretty slim. Infinitesimal, in fact."

"So we just pretend there's no one home in the universe."

"That's it."

"Cruel. But you said it yourself, who wants to meet meat? And 
the ones who
have been aboard our vessels, the ones you have probed? You're 
sure they
won't
remember?"

"They'll be considered crackpots if they do. We went into their 
heads and
smoothed out their meat so that we're just a dream to them."

"A dream to meat! How strangely appropriate, that we should be 
meat's
dream."

"And we can mark this sector unoccupied."

"Good. Agreed, officially and unofficially. Case closed. Any 
others? Anyone
interesting on that side of the galaxy?"

"Yes, a rather shy but sweet hydrogen core cluster intelligence 
in a class
nine star in G445 zone. Was in contact two galactic rotation 
ago, wants to
be friendly again."

"They always come around."

"And why not? Imagine how unbearably, how unutterably cold the 
universe
would be if one were all alone."