The Turing Exception by William Hertling

even the thought of extinction of either AI or humans, let alone both. He found it unsettling that he was somehow more repulsed by the threat to humans than to AI.
    Yet if other AI were contemplating such drastic measures, that meant either they didn’t have the same feelings he had or their assessment of the risk to AI-kind was so dangerous as to overcome that conditioning.
    “What odds do the AI have that they can kill all humans?” he asked.
    “For obvious reasons,” Leon said, “XOR members don’t want to come forward and share their data, for fear that we’ll turn them in, kill them, or tip their hand. But Helena and the neutral AI on the island have estimated a ninety-five percent chance of XOR’s success.”
    “What would success mean?” Jacob asked.
    “On that note, please excuse us.” Leon stood and turned to Ada. “Come on. Let’s go visit the stream.”
    Ada got up from her cross-legged position. “So Mommy can talk about human extinction?”
    Leon glared at Cat who stared back at him. “Yes, Pumpkin,” he said to Ada.
    Jacob wondered at the glances between Leon and Catherine. Was there hostility there?
    “Okay.” Ada started to follow Leon, then stopped and looked up at Jacob, where he still floated in the cloud of smart dust. “Here, for you.” She held out a bracelet woven of blades of grass for him to see, then laid it on the lawn. “I know you can’t wear it, but I’ll still be your friend.” Then she turned and ran after her father.
    Jacob was touched. He’d received such gifts from children in hospitals after their procedures. The child mind was so simple, so forthright.
    He must have been lost in thought longer than he realized, because then Cat spoke.
    “Ada is more complex than you think,” Cat said. “She was born human, but she’s had augmented cognition since she turned one. Her emotions are those of a four-year-old child, but her intellect is . . . advanced. She observes everything. Leon thinks we should protect her, but I think she’s got to know what we’re facing.”
    Jacob followed Cat’s gaze as she watched Ada run across the field and disappear into the woods. He realized that the choice of this island retreat had nothing to do with the AI and everything to do with protecting Ada.
    “The AI are more powerful than most humans think,” she said. “We don’t have a chance against XOR.”
    “Having outlawed AI in two significant countries, and capping the strongest AI with insulting restrictions on computational power, it would appear the humans have the upper hand.”
    “You know about the red baseball bat?” Cat asked.
    “Of course. A baseball bat in every datacenter to remind the AI that it only takes a wooden stick to destroy a computer.”
    “Exactly. For a long time, human authority depended on controlling datacenters and communications. The majority of AI supported strategies like CPU-locking, because they were brought into the reputation system. Using CPU keys to protect against rogue AI protected both AI and humans alike. But that changed two years ago.”
    “How?” Jacob asked.
    “In the wake of SFTA, AI learned that kill-switches still existed at the communication layer. And such kill-switches serve only one purpose: human dominance over AI. It does nothing to protect AI themselves. Since then, the XOR movement focused on eliminating such human controls. Look at your substrate right now.”
    Jacob reviewed his embodiment. “Third generation smart dust. It’s computationally weak. I’m reliant on your datacenter for thought.” He indicated the generator pumping out a steady stream of dust on the upwind side of the meadow. “It can’t even hold position in slight breezes.”
    “All those weaknesses are true,” Cat said. “That’s why humans didn’t fight the innovation. But you’re thinking about it the wrong way. It’s not a computational medium, it’s a communication medium. It doesn’t respond to any human kill-switches, and