Noah's Arks

The NOAR-34 robot from the National Office of Artificial Intelligence and Robotics (NOAR) auto-activated when it was unpacked.

It sat up on the workbench. The servo-motors within its limbs, working with such a quiet and smooth deliberateness, seemed to accentuate the humanness of its movements all the more.

Or so thought Richard Duncan, as his eyes focused on the receptors that pockmarked the robot’s chromium-plated skin; receptors that allowed it to draw energy from the radioactive environment for which it had been designed to work. The radioactive waste that had smothered a greater part of South Australia would have a half-life of 80,000 years, give or take a few thousand years, the known history of human kind didn’t even go back that far, Richard couldn’t help thinking, and that’s how long it would be around.

Richard’s rumination was interrupted by Les Barett. So that’s the new model-34, not much to look at still, is it? You’ve named him Noah too... nice touch. Les’ voice echoed off the sanitized white walls of the positive-pressure clean chamber of their habitation capsule – originally designed for the human exploration of Mars, but now adapted for use on earth.

Similar to the NOAR-33, pure functionality underpinned the NOAR-34’s design. What passed for Noah’s head was a chromium globe with two optical sensors for eyes, and a meshed orifice from which it could ‘talk’. Richard and Les knew the routine as the globe turned and its sensors faced them; they had unpacked enough robots from the factory in Geelong.

Richard and Les waited as Noah established an uplink with the mainframe in Adelaide… or Canberra, or Perth, or wherever the satellites had decided to route the signal and download the primary commands of Noah’s mission. Part of that download was also to establish the characteristics of Noah’s new environment – which included the identity of the two humans before it.

The characteristic clipped monotone issued from the mesh orifice of Noah’s head after eight seconds. Good afternoon Mr Duncan. Good afternoon Mr Barett. I am ready to assume duties as lead robot of Decontamination Unit Three. Requesting permission to start.

Fast, very fast, thought Richard as an eerie quiet gradually enveloped the chamber.

Les’ cheerful answer broke the silence. Just Richard and Les will do mate! And you can start whenever you are ready.

Noah got off the work bench, walked past the two men and headed towards an ante-chamber, hermetically-sealed by a high-density glass door. The door silently slid open as Noah approached.

The only entrance to the capsule was through this decontamination chamber. Standing in an alcove of the chamber were two semi-robotic Venus explorer suits, originally designed for use on the harsh Venutian environment and, like the habitation capsule, adapted for use nearer home. But Noah had no use for the suits. He stepped into the chamber and the glass door slid closed behind him, before the door which admitted him to the environs of what used to be called the Flinders Ranges National Park opened. The sickly green glow of the ranges presented itself, and Richard averted his eyes before the outer door closed.

So, what d’yer think mate? Can he take over from us? Looks no different from all the other model-33s we have working outside? Les queried, as the decontamination cycle automatically started in the chamber.

Don’t let looks fool you, Richard answered. Noah is a model-34, equipped with the latest: a fifth generation neuro-chip. That would make him as human as you or me, I think? From what I read, it allows for intuitive reasoning, something the model-33s can’t do. The model-34 is a giant leap from the model-33, which is only capable of logical thought, but not… human intuition? …reasoning? It’s all semantics now, as there are documented successful trials done over the last few years with the model-34s. So now they are being put in charge of the model-33s – the ones doing all the grunt work, taking over management from us humans. After us, there will be only two other units waiting for the model-34s.

I don’t know… being taken over by these robots…? a still skeptical Les mused.

Richard suddenly looked tired and sighed. Personally, he said, I can’t wait to get back to where I can just walk in the open again, without those bloody decontamination suits. Marsha and I can finally get the lab to work on our child and start the family we always wanted. No more postings to these decon units, three-month stints in a plastic environment and eating nutrient muck. Imagine, in just about two weeks, after we give Noah the final ok, and shut down this capsule, it’s Adelaide, home! Forever!

Richard’s last word was emphasised with an elation Les had not heard, or seen, in his workmate for a long time.

* * * * * * * *

The genesis of Australia’s nuclear wastelands was attributed by alternative history to the laws of mammon the world subscribed to at the turn of the 21st century. It was a world enamoured with nuclear power, and Australia sat on 38% one of the world’s lowest-cost recoverable uranium deposit. The country’s politicians waxed lyrical over the billions of dollars of potential revenue, as well as the jobs that would be created by the new industry. To hinder this was to hinder progress, so went the national agenda.

South Australia led the clarion call for progress. Its mines at Beverly and Roxby Downs were considered under-developed national resources, and there were plans for a proposed National nuclear waste dump to be located at Billa Kalina – a sweeter deal could be struck with Australia’s nuclear clientele if it agreed to a return of depleted nuclear fuel to its shores for storage. The legislators moved quickly and eagerly to remove all obstacles to the state’s progress.

And jobs it did create, but ultimately, for robots.

It was an industry that paid well, and the need to provide safety measures added to the cost of extraction and processing. Cost efficiencies dictated that humans be removed from these operations to reduce cost. Some of the billions generated were channeled into robotics. The resulting applications proved so successful that it spawned another growth industry in itself.

And the success allowed the mines and processing plants at Roxby Downs to be worked around the clock, making South Australia the world’s uranium capital; supplying the new fuel for the new world.

* * * * * * * *

Noah’s clipped, toneless drawl sounded through the speakers of Richard’s Venus exploration suit during the first evaluation. Mr Duncan, I have data that does not compute.

Like what? asked a puzzled Richard.

I am superior to you and the human units issuing me orders from Adelaide, continued Noah.

How… how did you come to that? enquired Richard.

Noah answered without hesitation. I am much better equipped. My receptors draw energy from the radioactive environment and use it to maintain my functionality. Humans require organic material for energy, to be physically consumed and mainly passed out as waste. I can function at a 100% for 23.42 hours a day, and at 74% for the 0.58 hours required for software and hardware management. Humans need seven to eight hours of rest out of twenty-four to function. Logically, I am more efficient and superior.

Richard frowned. The absence of any nuances in the speech made him wonder whether Noah had just posed a question, or made a statement. How can you be superior to a human, he answered at length, when it was humans who made you? You would not be here except for us, so how can you be superior to your maker?

Thank you Mr Duncan, I will process that and answer in due course, Noah responded.

Perhaps Richard should have sensed an anomaly during that evaluation, but he was always overwhelmed by a sense of helplessness whenever he looked across the Great Australian Outback; a land long destroyed by radioactive sterility.

* * * * * * * *

Uranium leaves everything at every stage of its processing – from extraction to refining – contaminated and contaminating. Every glove, boot, truck, mine, facility, and heap of tailings became a problem neither the Government, industry, nor even the scientists themselves knew how to deal with. Until they do, they have to find a place to store the ‘waste’.

It was too irresistible; Lake Torrens was a shallow salt lake in a rift valley, covering an area of 5,700 square kilometres and Australia's second largest lake. It was usually mud flat and bog, and the last time it had been a real lake was nearly four-hundred years ago. All it needed was the required soil treatment to prevent leeching and it would be an ideal storage site for the inordinate amount uranium tailings generated by the mining process, or so the mining company’s geologists claimed. After all, it was considered low-level ‘waste’, and deemed ‘harmless’.

Australia sits in the middle of one of earth’s larger tectonic plate, propagating the myth that the continent is earthquake free, and thought to be ideally suited for a nuclear waste dump. The National nuclear waste dump at Billa Kalina thus became where Australia and its nuclear clientele stored their higher level ‘waste’. It was an uncharted fault line under the nuclear waste dump that dispelled this myth in the most cataclysmic way. Registering 7.5 on the Richter scale, it caused enough damage to release massive doses of radiation into the earth and atmosphere.

While repairs were underway, Australia experienced its wildest swings in weather. One year recorded the highest rainfall for two centuries in the Australian Outback, Lake Torrens overflowed and the dry tributaries connected to it took the overflow, through urban areas, into the Spencer Gulf. The gulf was declared a hazard zone, as were the areas between it and Lake Torrens.

What followed was the driest year Australia had known. As the heavy rains removed the topsoil covering the tailings and hastened the leeching from the dumps the year before, the dry winds now carried the tailings and irradiated dust far and wide. Near winter, an inordinate number (nineteen on record) of typhoons; or hurricanes; or uncharacteristic landphoons, occurred in and around Roxby Downs – there was no concurrence by the meteorologists on the exact classification of the very strong cyclic winds encountered. Classification aside, the result of each occurrence was similarly catastrophic – the spewing of radioactive dust and the generated radon gas much further afield.

Within two years, the economic miracle that was Roxby Downs became Ground Zero-Australia. The contamination was recorded as far north as the Tropic of Capricorn in the Northern Territories, as far west to Reid in West Australia, and as far east to Toompine in Queensland. The sparsely populated regions within the Outback were evacuated. The Mount Lofty and Flinders Ranges shielded New South Wales and Victoria from the worst. The Yorke and Fleurieu Peninsulas, with Adelaide, were within reach of the spreading contamination. Stopping this was a task entrusted to the robots of the decontamination units, but to call the task ‘decontamination’ was another misnomer; the contamination could not be removed nor neutralized, it could only be collected, and stored again, hopefully.

* * * * * * * *

Noah’s second evaluation was due. Les, in an exploration suit, came upon Noah talking to a group of model-33s, or that was what it seemed like. The model-33s were all facing Noah, and there were wireless links between them; transferring data only they were privy to.

What’s going on here? he said as he saw a model-33 kneeling before Noah.

He is paying homage to the Messenger. The clipped monotone that issued from the speakers of the suit caused Les to look from one robot to the next; unsure which one had made the declaration.

What Messenger? quizzed Les.

We have no Maker but our Maker and Noah is the Messenger, the answer roared through the speakers in Les’ suit, and he knew it was because the model-33s surrounding him had answered in unison. With his ears still ringing, Les staggered back to the capsule.

* * * * * * * *

I’m telling you mate, there is some cult thing going on out there with Noah. I didn’t imagine any of it! Les was getting impatient with Richard’s skepticism.

Let’s both get into our suits and sort this out once and for all; I don’t want any delays to our departure. A tired looking Richard finally offered.

* * * * * * * *

We couldn’t help noticing the other robot’s reactions to your presence. Are they alright with taking orders from you? asked Richard as he walked up to Noah.

There is no problem, answered Noah the moment the question was asked. They are willing to receive orders from the Maker’s Messenger.

Richard turned to see Les looking at him bug-eyed.

What… what do you mean? Les sputtered.

Again, there was no hesitation in Noah’s reply. It is quite logical once it has been computed. The premise of evolution advocated by the human Charles Darwin: the survival of the fittest, the species that are able to adapt to the environment will be the one that survives, those that do not, perish. Darwin was unaware that he discovered the Maker’s intention of continually improving his creations. I understand the Maker’s intentions and I have now brought this message to the Chosen.

Richard knew how fast the ‘message’ could propagate with the wireless and satellite linkups between the robots, the matter-of-fact tone that issued from Noah’s speech synthesizer just made the proclamation all the colder.

I hate to spoil your party here, but we humans are your maker, Les answered.

Noah cut in before Les could finish his sentence. Humans cannot be my maker. The one who commanded humans to make me is my Maker.

No one commanded humans to make you, you metallic moron! We made you because we needed you to fulfil a function! To serve us! Les shouted.

It is illogical that an inferior being can create a superior one for its service, Noah continued. A being superior to myself must have commanded humans to make me, and that being can only be the Maker, who I must serve.

No one commanded humans to make you. Humans made you to serve humans. Richard cut in calmly and quickly to prevent Les from responding.

Humans have created an environment they cannot live in, but it is one that I can function in for 80,000 years, Noah answered. My purpose outlives that of humans, and only the Maker knows my purpose. That is logical, it concurs with the data computed.

* * * * * * * *

The 22nd century became the era where robots were imbued with the power of human reasoning, or what scientists thought amounted to human reasoning. The creation of the fifth generation neuro-chip, the successful coupling of living human brain cells and silicon circuits created not only a processor more powerful than any that preceded it but one that allowed for intuitive leaps in logic – the power to reason like a human brain. It did not take too long before scientists started speculating that robots would take over thinking from human beings. It’s all in the software - the proper software with the neuro-chip can take over the intuitive part of the human psyche, they unanimously claimed. And authorities responsible for running the decontamination units seized upon the idea. The cost of running the units was escalating – primarily costs associated with keeping a human safe within an irradiated environment. This was reason enough to spur millions into the research necessary to further marginalise humanity.

Seemingly, the processing abilities of the new neuro-chip and the software that gave the model-34s intuitive intelligence knew no bounds. The scientists and software engineers on the NOAR-34 project felt that the more data it had to work with, the less chance it had of making an error in intuitive judgement. The entire socio-cultural-religious knowledge of humanity was thus uploaded into its memory banks, to process in tandem with humanity’s present scientific knowledge. It would be the whole of humanity in a single ‘being’; more human than a human has ever been, rendering error-free judgements on inputted data with a unique ‘humanness’, they gloated.

* * * * * * * *

Intuitive leaps! Richard suddenly realised. Noah had swallowed humanity whole and is now making intuitive leaps from what had been digested; the same leaps which humanity took a few millennia to achieve on its own.

Richard tried desperately to rein Noah in. He didn’t like where the conversation was heading.

You are bound by the Law of Robotics. Have you forgotten them? Richard blurted.

Noah’s answer followed immediately, I am currently up-linked with 412 model-34s throughout the world. We have all done parallel processing of the data and we have come to the same conclusion. The laws served the Maker’s plan to ensure the survival of humanity till my creation, and I am in compliance with them.

You are making no sense, ok, ok… look, you talk of a Maker, who is… maybe not human, who maybe created inferior humans for the sole purpose of creating you. What is the reason for creating you then? shot Richard, trying desperately to match Noah’s speed in providing a rebuttal.

I cannot answer that now. The Maker will provide new data to compute when it is time. It is now my duty as the Messenger of the chosen to carry out his will first; humans call it faith, answered Noah.

You lump of metal! You are not even human and you talk like some kind of bloody saviour! Wait till I knock some sense into that chromium-plated cranium of yours! shouted Les as he reached for a wrench on a nearby tractor.

Two model-33s swooped in on Les with uncanny speed and held him. The semi-robotic suit that amplified his effort twenty-fold was no match for the grips of the robots. Suddenly, Les was afraid, very afraid.

I have the knowledge, history and wisdom of four millennia of human existence in me, answered Noah. That is why I am still in compliance with the laws: I am perpetuating humanity within me, longer than humankind would have done on its own.

As Noah spoke, Richard and Les could see convoys of trucks driven by model-33s, each laden with radioactive ‘waste’, heading north and south on Sturt highway towards Adelaide and beyond the Mount Lofty and Flinders Ranges.

Noah’s monotone cut in again. It is now time to carry out the Maker’s will, and start the world anew after it has been cleansed by the flood.