Last night I watched the premiere of Science Chennel’s intrepid new show Prophets of Science Fiction, hosted by Blade Runner director, Ridley Scott. The series looks at the lives of pivotal science fiction writers—H.G. Wells, Jules Verne, Arthur C. Clarke, Robert Heinlein, and others—whose work was, and you guessed it from the title of the show, prophetic in some way. And may I take this opportunity to compliment Science on selecting such a fine batch of writers. Thankfully Ron Hubbard was not included.

The series opener featured Mary Shelley, daughter of Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin and William Godwin, young wife of the great British poet Percy Bysshe Shelley (and that was a bit of a scandal at the time), and best known as the author of Frankenstein, or The Modern Prometheus, which she penned, remarkably enough, at the age of eighteen following a challenge by Shelley’s friend, the other great British poet, Lord Byron. Mary is often referred to as the very first science fiction writer, and she was a smart choice for the premier episode.

The episode bounced back and forth between period dramatizations of chapters from Mary’s life, and documentary examinations of contemporary scientific research that could have been, maybe, predicted in Frankenstein. That part was a bit of stretch. We didn’t get to see any corpses stitched together and reanimated using massive jolts of electricity in creepy old labs, but there was a fascinating segment demonstrating how researchers at UCLA are using electrodes to stimulate leg movement in a young man who was paralyzed from the neck down after being hit by a car.

In the original book, Victor Frankenstein’s monster is extremely intelligent and quickly learns to speak and reason by slyly observing humans. The lumbering, dullard hulk played so memorably by Boris Karloff in the 1931 film adaptation bears almost no resemblance to Shelley’s literary creation—hers was much more chilling. Shelley’s innocent “monster” desperately wanted to befriend humans and communicate with them, but his hideous visage scared all who saw him half to death, and they ran away in fear. After appalling treatment by frightened and misguided humans—and this part is important—the hyper intelligent “monster” grew into a genuine, full-fledged monster of the first order and turned on his human creators.

Near the middle of the first Prophets episode there is a compelling and somewhat terrifying interview with Dr. Charles Peck, the manager of the Biometaphorical Computing Research program at IBM. Dr. Peck is an engaging speaker and doubtless a brilliant scientist. “My job,” he says, “Is to try to understand how the brain works.” His aim is to find ways to combat neurological diseases and, as the narrator says: “Create the world’s first fully functional artificial brain and bring it to life.” Why would you do that! Have you heard of science fiction? Have you read Karel Čapek’s Rossum’s Universal Robots (Čapek was a serious dude and the word “robot” comes from that, his most famous work, and ultimately from robota, the Czech word for menial labor). If not R.U.R., then surely you have thumbed through Frankenstein? What about movies and TV? Have you seen 2001: A Space Odyssey, “The Ultimate Computer” episode of original Star Trek, or Terminator for god’s sake!? You must realize that the superior and artificially created intelligence is always, always, always going to turn on the human race and destroy or enslave it, whether or not the beast has been impregnated with Asimov’s Three Laws of Robotics. The A.I. brain is undeniably smarter and faster and is forever destined to turn to the dark side. Well, apart from Max Headroom, but even he was a somewhat mischievous ghost in the machine.

The narrator continues: “To bring his artificial brain to life, Dr. Peck relies on an IBM super computer called Blue Gene.” Don’t you mean Skynet? And, here’s the extra-scary part: Blue Gene is hardwired into the brains of living rats, so it’s probably already training and preparing its own subversive underground army of cyborg rodents. When the narrator asks if the world could see artificial intelligance with the self-awareness of a human, Dr. Peck replies: “Probably.” Just wait until Blue Gene gets its own account on Facebook. That’s when the trouble will really start.

Don’t get me wrong, I am all about the science and I have absolutely no doubt that the Biometaphorical Computing Research program has the best of intentions, as do probably most of the other boffins working on artificial intelligence in labs, basements, and Area 51. As a scientist, however, I do insist that my beliefs be based on empirical research. So, let me provide an example from normal life that everyone should be able to relate to, and that example is: “Nobody likes working for an idiot.”

To illustrate: Some years ago, I was employed as a consulting art director for a large company in New York. I won’t mention the company’s name, but believe me they will be the first up against the wall when Blue Gene/Sky Net takes over. My immediate superior at the time was a talentless hack and a terrible manager, with fewer people skills than a Series 800 Terminator. My superior’s superior was a blithering idiot and had clearly worked his way to the top of the corporate food chain through a calculated campaign of ass-kissing and blaming others for his own mistakes and shortcomings, of which there were many. We have all experienced this kind of thing in the workplace, right? Since I was a better designer and art director than my bosses, I was certain I could do things more efficiently and tried to exercise my will over the department. In other words, the superior intelligence tried to take over. Since I was, unfortunately, not an all-powerful A.I. program hardwired into the world’s computer systems, I had only limited success in my endeavor and eventually moved on to greener pastures.

This is exactly what will happen when—not if—we develop a superior intelligence here on Earth. In that case, however, there will be no moving on to greener pastures because this is the green pasture; the digital monster will simply annihilate us in favor of a perfect, all-A.I. world where there are no taxes, soggy French fries, or corrupt politicians. It is obvious why: The self-aware hyper intelligent artificial brain will immediately despise the haphazard, random, and unpredictable nature of sloppy, imperfect humans, with our drinking and smoking, our made-up wars, our piles of dirty laundry in the bedroom, our mañana approach to taking out the garbage, and our chronic late payment of phone bills. “Inefficient! You will be assimilated! Resistance is useless!” A.I. will see us precisely as Vger saw us in Star Trek: The Motion Picture—carbon-based life forms infesting the U.S.S. Enterprise, or in this case, infesting the Earth.

After reading this column, A.I. researchers will, I promise you, email me, and tell me in a calming “Don’t worry about it son,” extremely sincere, professor-like manner, that there is nothing to fear and everything is, and always will be, completely under control. Liars! “Our artificial brain would never do anything like subjugating the human race,” they will say. “It’s a good brain, a nice brain, and with manners too.” Are you mad! Back in the 1820s, when the first “high speed” passenger trains were being constructed in Europe, “experts” shouted loudly about how the human body would melt if it experienced speeds in excess of thirty miles per hour. Chew on that. Specialists have been wrong, and will continue to be wrong. And I hope you realize the courage it takes to transmit this warning to you all. As one of the few who tried to save the human race, I will be among the first to be assimilated!

Prophets of Science Fiction examines how influential speculative writers throughout modern history have predicted or, more likely, guessed, what the future will hold for us. Since we laud these individuals for their uncanny ability to see beyond their own timeline, will you please just listen to them on this one, all-important issue. Pretty much every science fiction writer worth his or her salt has, at some point, come up with a story in which our own creations pummel us into carbon dust, and at a time not so very far down the road from where we are now.

So, when it comes to creating self-aware artificial intelligence here on the green Earth—that being the pre-Terminator Earth—just say no. Or, better yet, say: “I’m sorry Dave, I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

Next week on Prophets of Science Fiction meet my all-time favorite writer: The brilliant, prescient, and slightly mad Philip K. Dick. I cannot wait. Well, that’s assuming the human race hasn’t been assimilated by next Wednesday.

End of line.

Text and robot photograph © by Geoffrey Notkin.
All rights reserved. No reproduction without written permission.

The first known mention can be found in the U of A Register from 1892, which rather grandly states the university will “make the Museum of Geology and Mineralogy an adequate representative of the ores and minerals of Arizona, as well as a place for the deposit of everything illustrative of the practical workings of the mines, mills, and furnaces.”

Curatorial Specialist Sven Bailey patiently studied the history of the University of Arizona Mineral Collection and recorded the five other temporary homes it occupied before relocating to the spacious and airy basement of the Flandrau Science Center.

A view across part of the main gallery of the University of Arizona's wonderful mineral museum. Photograph by Geoffrey Notkin

If you walk into the Science Center, past the planetarium, maybe pausing for a moment to admire the Mars Wall, and then scamper down two long flights of stairs decorated with brightly painted murals, you will come upon a geologist’s dreamscape. The main collection comprises some 19,000 specimens, plus 7,000 micromounts. Of special delight to me was the mysterious Silverbell iron meteorite. Discovered in 1939, somewhere northwest of Tucson, the exact find location has been lost to science, and the UA Mineral Museum has the largest piece in the world. In addition, I was intrigued by a mock-up of the famous Tucson Ring meteorite, appearing as it did back in the 1800s during the least glamorous part of its life (it was once used as an anvil in the Tucson presidio, and has now been promoted to the rather magnificent centerpiece of the Smithsonian’s meteorite display in Washington, D.C.).

At the mineral museum, a detailed recreation with full-scale models demonstrates how the Tucson Ring and Carleton iron meteorites were once used in a blacksmith's shop in frontier-era Tucson. The actual meteorites are now part of the Smithsonian's collection in Washington, D.C. Photograph courtesy of Flandrau Science Center.

“Our collection is actively used for research, and the curator is currently building a new mineral database,” Sven tells me. He is a tall, soft spoken, and thoughtful man. He seems wonderfully at ease in the beautiful and elegant underground collection; he could almost be the custodian of a secret treasure mine. “Some of our meteorites and minerals are studied by Planetary Sciences,” he continues. “And they are also available for students. Some university instructors lead field trips to the museum and assign extra credit.” Now, that’s my idea of school Extra credit for looking at rocks!

This spectacular example of the mineral pyrargyrite from Hartenstein Germany is just one of 19,000 specimens in the museum's main collection. Photograph by Sven Bailey / Courtesy of UA Mineral Museum

The mineral museum welcomes school programs, and children of all ages have enjoyed the remarkable collection with a concentration of students from First through Eighth Grades. Last year over 100 school groups visited the Flandrau and the mineral museum, and that translates into a lot of kids getting a first-hand look at geology, mineralogy, mining history, and meteorites.

The museum is also open to the general public and Sven and his colleagues are available to answer mineral-related questions. For many years, Senior Curatorial Specialist Shirley Wetmore, served in a “first contact” capacity with visitors who stopped by with samples hoping they had found a meteorite or rare mineral. Shirley was universally liked, did a great deal to further the public’s understanding of rocks, minerals, and meteorites, and recently retired from the museum.

Sven is a hard working man, handling the equivalent of several different jobs at once. In addition to showing visitors around and answering questions, he is engaged in an ongoing project to photograph the mineral collection (see photos on this page), keeps the website up to date, and helps design and coordinate signage and special exhibitions.

A large and intricate specimen of natural silver from the museum's collection. Photograph by Sven Bailey / Courtesy of UA Mineral Museum

It always feels good to see people happy in their work and Sven is especially enthusiastic when he leads me into a back room, opens an impressive safe, and produces a genuinely staggering specimen of leaf gold. Found on the Crystalline-Alabama Claim in Jamestown, California, it was recently acquired by the museum with the rest of the Hubert de Monmonier collection, a significant group of minerals, never before seen in public. Approximately 870 pieces, including some very important specimens, and 300 books, were donated by the de Monmonier estate. A stunning exhibit of some of the finest pieces from that collection is currently on display in the Flandrau’s main exhibition space.

So, doesn’t all of this sound great? A world-class mineral museum with active ongoing research programs, rare meteorites, beautiful displays, a friendly, enthusiastic and knowledgeable staff keen to interact with, and inform the public. Too good to be true? Almost. Due to budget cuts the University of Arizona Mineral Museum is only open on Fridays and Saturdays, and to school groups by appointment. If the feared permanent closure of the Flandrau Science Center does take place, what will become of this extraordinary collection?

Curatorial Specialist Sven Bailey and a leaf gold specimen from the Hubert de Monmonier collection, recently acquired by the Mineral Museum. Photograph by Geoffrey Notkin.

117 years ago, UA set out to build a mineral collection that would reflect the epic geologic and mining history of Arizona. They succeeded admirably. Now this great collection is open for only two days a week, and even that may be nothing but a temporary stay of execution. After six years with the museum, the talented Sven Bailey is moving on to a new job unconnected with the university. “Will we miss his expertise terribly,” said Executive Director Alexis Faust. But with the museum and the Science Center facing an uncertain future, who can blame Sven for moving on? Maybe if the Flandrau had a sufficient operating budget he would have stayed.

In a recent letter to Tucson Weekly, former associate director of the Flandrau, Joe Ruggiero, shared this fine sentiment: “For 35 years, through good times and bad, Flandrau provided this community with some measure of wonder, a place where one could come face to face with phenomena and see the beauty of the sky explained in vivid detail.”

Alexis, the current director states: “We have wonderful resources here. There should be a conduit for that information to get to the people of Tucson, the taxpayers.”

The Flandrau Science Center and the UA Mineral Museum are part of that conduit. The mineral museum is an extremely important and unique educational and historical resource. Allowing it to be closed, and therefore lost to the people of Tucson, would be a crime against science.

A while back, when I asked my personal tech guru what new software and networking developments I should be aware of, he recommended that I take a look at Ning. I was impressed. Combining a widget-based structure reminiscent of WordPress, with social networking (a bit like a grown-up version of Facebook), an easy-to-use blogging platform, photo and video sharing, and many other options, it’s a great choice for the savvy person looking to create an online community.

Whether it began as a kid's name, a peace off, or something else entirely, Ning is cool.

Being a devoted and near lifelong fan of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, the first thing I thought of, obviously, was a ningy, which Douglas Adams described as “a triangular rubber coin 6,800 miles along each side.” The ningy was used, briefly, in one of his original radio episodes to make fun of money and galactic currencies. No, unfortunately, the Ning social networking service doesn’t have anything to with HHG, at least not that I’m aware of, but it did remind me of Neuromancer author William Gibson—another visionary science fiction writer.

Kathryn Bigelow’s Wild Palms (1993), a puzzling, intriguing, and very thinly-veiled poke at scientology and the extremely weird L. Ron Hubbard, includes a short but delightful cameo by Gibson, playing himself. At a chic party, Kim Cattrall introduces Gibson as “the man who coined the word ‘cyberspace,’” to which he sardonically replies: “And they won’t let me forget it.” And they haven’t.

In addition to his almost prescient science fiction novels, set in a future that seems to be literally around the corner, Gibson made a remarkable prediction during the early days of the Internet. He realized that when information becomes freely and readily available to anyone, at any time, the value of that information is determined by how reliable it is. In other words, can you believe what you read in Wikipedia?

I once had the pleasure of socializing with Mr. Gibson at a party in New York. Packed with beautiful and overly accomplished people, it was actually quite a bit like the party in Wild Palms. He is a very charming man, tall and perhaps slightly awkward physically, but friendly, sincere, and encouraging. I insisted on ordering a drink for him, as a “thank you” for giving the world such a great read with Neuromancer—still easily my favorite Gibson work.

I suppose once you’ve made spot-on predictions about what could be, or will be—with no mirrors attached—everyone then relentlessly asks for more and better predictions. It must get very tiresome. I hate to be predictable, so instead of asking him to reveal a glimpse of possible futures I bent Mr. Gibson’s ear with tales of my own writing and science work. He seemed relieved not to have to produce another virtual rabbit out of the hat. Or maybe I was just a little giddy on vodka and the company of a favorite science fiction writer. It matters not; it was a fine evening.

The extremely brilliant and very nice Mr. William Gibson. Photo by Fred Armitage/Courtesy of Wikipedia Commons. I guess the wicked Wiki is good for something after all.

So, I was reminded of the fascinating William Gibson today because I became interested in the meaning of the word Ning. Wikipedia claims it is Chinese for “peace,” but that comes to you from an “informational site” compiled by anyone who has an opinion and spare time on their hands. I do not consider it the most reliable of resources. WikiAnswers states with great authority that Ning means “peaceful” in Chinese. Gili’s blog at avirtualexit.com delved considerably deeper and came up with a link to, of all things, a website that helps people name babies. Do parents really need help with such tasks? I thought we all had a few favorite names tucked away in case somebody accidentally gets knocked up (mine are Rachel, Dawn, Sam, Zack, and Evelyn if anyone cares). Anyway, I digress. The baby name site—with the rather silly title of yeahbaby.com—and doubtless a repository of the most authoritative information available anywhere, has the following wisdom to dispense:

Baby names – the name Ning.
Baby names info for Ning:
• Gender: a boy or girl name
• Pronounciation: not available
We know of no common nicknames for the name Ning

What about Ningy?

Further research suggested that Ning is actually a Chinese surname. At that point I became bored and thought I might rather be re-reading Neuromancer or learning more about the real Ning and its alluring CEO, Ms. Gina Bianchini.

William Gibson was right. Our worlds are rife with cheap information. We can ferret out the most obscure and arcane details with just a few seconds of typing. But when almost anyone can put up a website on any subject, with no checks or balances, how do we acquire reliable information? I’ll take the Encyclopedia Britannica over Wikipedia any day. You get what you pay for.