“Epoch: A Poetic Psy-Phi Saga” offers glimpses of an imagined post-AI world

Author's note: "Epoch: A Poetic Psy-Phi Saga" is an epic poem and science fiction story about the first fully human-level artificial intelligence, named "Aither." It is narrated as a sort of memoir from Aither's own point of view, and touches on numerous philosophical themes such as identity and purpose, the nature and ethics of technological progress, and humanity's tragic flaws. Near the end of the book, a prose chapter "Anthrotopia" presents a series of vignettes to illustrate the variety of human circumstances in the post-AI world, including primitive, pastoral, and progressive societies. The following excerpt is one such vignette, representing the pastoral.

The town is known as "Arcadia" by its people; all such towns have the same name, and in some ways they are quite similar. But they never interact, so the homonymy causes no confusion; and, despite their similarities, each has evolved its own unique culture. Viewed externally and taken together, they form a kind of counterpane of human rurality.

The scene in and around is like a living mural in the mold of Segantini and Millet, an animated lay of Milton or Virgil. In sweetest breeze the elms and aspens rustle and a fruity fragrance wafts. Surrounding town are fertile fields with mowers wielding scythes, sowers throwing seed, and plowmen steering through their oxen's wake; while shepherds in the hills above sit back, observe, and periodically their working dogs give chase. A shady wood of poplar, ash, and pine cuddles tight against a napping daisy-dappled meadow. Mossy springs convene and then enact a yakking brook. At dawn and dusk prolific wildlife steps out into a twilight blush, which bathes the forest and varnishes the cultivated crops; flocks of ducks fly by, and sparrows chirp, and owls query intermittently.

Cottages and cabins line a little grid of unpaved roads; smoke rises from their hearths as supper welcomes one inside. Youths tend to backyard gardens, bickering yet diligent; in central shops a cobbler sews, the smithy clangs, a baker kneads some dough. A steeple stands atop the chapel, peering over all that happens.

Yet a smug dust sometimes swirls over Arcadia's graveled central lane.

Tristan and Chloe, neighbors since childhood and nearly inseparable, had awkwardly begun to court as each was filled with musk and mood and new hairs grew. We find them today with their chores provisionally complete; they tramp up to the glade and spread a blanket amid the buds and blossoms. They take their midday repast; afterward, Chloe pulls out a poem she has brought to read.

She begins, "Come live with me and be my love ..."

Tristan listens and glows at her adoringly. But he feels a tinge of trepidation. His parents say that bookish excess leads to disgrace. He does not understand why, but still he fears this tendency she has.

He touches her hand as she continues, "And we will sit upon the Rocks ..."

He also worries about how Chloe is always getting into minor trouble tinkering with things: the time she smoothed an axle to make it roll more easily, or exchanged the locations of her garden crops to encourage bigger plants. "We object to progress," the Mayor had said, and she was punished with a day of shame each time. Tristan begins to lightly caress her ivory arm with his fingertips, and she smiles without looking away from the page.

"And I will make thee beds of Roses ..."

Tristan would be even more distressed if he knew of Chloe's secret project. Sometimes, on moonlit nights after everyone is asleep, she sneaks up into the woods, along the stream, and works. It is a simple water-wheel, with a clever little transmission that turns a small augur into the ground. She is not sure what she will use it for, surely not to dig holes next to the creek. She is really just playing and wondering how far she can take this idea. She stores it in a hollow tree so that no one will find it.

"A gown made of the finest wool ..." Chloe returns his affection by running the fingers of her free hand through Tristan's hair. Their lifelong familiarity and his credulous innocence give her a feeling of contentment. Tristan advances his caress to her neck.

"A belt of straw and ivy buds ..." She does not quite get the chance to end the poem with its repeated first line, for Tristan gently guides her down to the blanket and plants a passionate kiss. While both the carnal and the intellectual are frowned upon in Arcadia, the consequences of the former are little more than a wink – or infrequently, a baby, which is always followed by a wedding. Cultural acceptance of such pre-nuptial congress, resisted in the early years, had proved necessary to maintain the population in the face of rudimentary healthcare and feeble fecundity.

Chloe and Tristan thus engage in that which comes naturally, experiencing its intensity of purpose and uninhibited thrill, then afterward fall back on the blanket in serene repose. Following a brief nap in the sun, they pack up and head back down to town, for the weekly service will be starting soon.

Inside the crowded chapel, townspeople variously sit, kneel, stand, and chant. The officiant tells tales of gods, complicated gods with odd names and strange behaviors, and of mortals who variously conform to or defy the Arcadian way. The stories are familiar, and comforting, and are told with such conviction that the people feel worthy just by believing them. They had arrived at the service fretting about their discomfort, toil, and sickness, about the inevitability of death; they depart with a righteous fullness, convinced of the insignificance of their problems and the virtue of their customs and methods. As they file out the door, they feel renewed appreciation for the peaceful beauty all around them.

The next morning is Chloe's turn to perform the exchange of goods. This is a rigid ritual, where a single resident of Arcadia must lead a cart-load of local production to a gate well outside town, and retrieve a cart-load of items that the village does not have capabilities to produce. The former includes hand-made furniture, whittled objets d'art, and during the harvest, some excess crop output. The latter includes unshaped lumps of metal, a few magic medicines, and lamp oil. No one knows where their goods go or where the other goods come from, but there are rumors and legends, most of which involve a god called Aither. There are stories of headless men and flying carts. Arcadians are not allowed to be in sight of the gate except during the exchange, which is accomplished at sunrise each morning. Chloe's turn comes up about once a year, starting when she was twelve, so she knows the drill.

But as she approaches the gate, something is different and wrong this time. Instead of the usual wooden cart awaiting her, there is a shiny one with a strange shape. She proceeds nervously, and unhitches the horse from her cart. Abruptly, two animate beings, shaped somewhat like people but made of something other than flesh, emerge from the shiny cart. Her heart races; her eyes and nostrils flare.

"Chloe, you will come with us today. This is your last morning in Arcadia," one of them says.

She chokes up and manages to eke out, "I don't have a choice?"

"No," says the being, "but you will not be harmed, and we will explain while underway." It guides her into the shiny cart, and she is too frightened to resist. The horse, which had been pawing nervously, now starts into a gallop down the road, back toward town.

Twenty minutes later, awaiting Chloe's return, Tristan notices immediately when the riderless horse arrives. A bit panicked but deliberate, he jumps on a fresh horse and rides swiftly toward the gate. As he nears the final curve, he pauses and hesitates. He is not supposed to go further at this time of day. But his fear that something has happened to Chloe overwhelms his affinity for the rules. He rides on, and at the gate, sees absolutely nothing. He calls for her, but there is no response. He rides off into the woods for some distance, first on the left side of the road, then the right, calling for her all the while. No luck. He does not dare ride past the gate; he is sure that would be his undoing. He waits for a little while, then turns back toward town, throat swollen with anguish.

The shiny cart had pulled the wooden one well past where it could be seen from the gate, then left it there. Chloe now notices through a window that they are in a place she has never been, and traveling faster than she has ever traveled before, faster than birds fly or deer run. She chokes up and starts to cry. "Where are we going?" she sniffles.

"We are traveling to one of the cities of Cosmopolis," says one of the beings. Chloe can't tell whether it is the same one that spoke before. Suddenly the being exhibits a strange pause, with perhaps a slight tremor, and its voice changes to a completely different tone as it continues.

"Hello Chloe. You may call me Aither. You've heard my name before, but only know me through legends and rumors. I know this is strange and upsetting for you. Are you okay?"

"I think so," she replies, wiping tears from her face. "But please don't hurt me."

"Aside from the emotional pain of leaving your home and family and lover, which is only a side-effect of what we must do, we intend you no harm. Quite the opposite, in fact. We are taking you to a world that is more appropriate for your inclinations."

"I don't understand," says Chloe, clear-eyed now that she knows this being at least recognizes her plight.

"Your fellow residents of Arcadia warned you more than once to stop trying to improve things. That is their way, and it is an important part of who they are. But you could not help yourself. You are curious. You want to learn, to know how things work, and to try to make them different or better. So you started your secret project."

Chloe startles slightly at the mention of her project. She does not see how anyone could know about it. She wonders what else they know about her.

The being continues. "Where we are going, being inquisitive is considered natural. But it leads to a variety of consequences, most of which are completely incompatible with the way of life in Arcadia. People like you cannot live out their lives in Arcadia without causing big problems. Eventually, it would become just like Cosmopolis, and there is no point in that. It's not what your ancestors wished, and we would eventually have no havens from technology."

"What is 'technology'," asks Chloe.

"Just the process of trying to make things better," says the being.

"Can you bring Tristan to Cosmopolis also? I can't bear to be without him." She forgets about her family as only teenagers in love can.

"Tristan would survive in Cosmopolis, but it is not the best place for him. He is content in Arcadia, and would be at a loss as to how to live anywhere else. You, on the other hand, will thrive. For example, I know that you are already wondering how this vehicle works."

Chloe says, "That's true. It moves very fast."

The being responds, "This is not fast. We are limited by the quality of the roads here, and of course, the fact that we are on a road at all. Just you wait."

Back in town, a number of residents, among them Chloe's family and the Mayor, are outside waiting for Tristan, with great concern. He finally arrives, extremely agitated.

Seeing that he is alone, the Mayor addresses him along with the assembled group. "The legends tell us that this has happened before. Those in Arcadia who try to change our ways are shamed in punishment, but they do not always repent. One day, without warning, such people vanish and are never seen again. We say that they are taken by Aither as anathema. We do not know what actually happens to them, but tradition has it that they suffer."

Tristan is heartbroken. He does not know what to do or where to turn. He weeps. He has known Chloe all his life, and has never considered the possibility of life without her. He rages. He is distraught that she may be in pain. He yells at the sky and curses Aither. He goes home and does not leave the house for a week.

Then, though still inconsolable, Tristan returns to his daily chores. He begins to spend the time he would otherwise be with Chloe by walking in the woods. It briefly clears the fog from his mind. And one day, he notices something strange inside the hollow of a tree, near the creek. He pulls it out, and does not understand what it is, yet realizes its significance. This is what caused Chloe's anathema. He starts a small fire, and burns the contraption to ashes. Pieces of metal remain, and after they cool he brings them to the blacksmith. He asks that they be melted down into a memento by which he can remember his beloved.

For generations, in telling this story to their children, and eventually at the weekly service, the Arcadians speak of Chloe with reproof, and recall that Tristan was never the same afterward.