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way to the theater."
"Okay," Lucia said. "That sounds like a plan."
He smiled. "You speak English like an American."
She had never thought of it that way. "I guess so."
Reaching across her, he cleared the seat. As she scooted over to the door, he said, "Are
you still thirsty? I have water."
"Yes. Thanks."
He poured from the thermos, using its blue top as a cup. When he gave it to her, his
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Catherine Asaro - The Veiled Web
fingers brushed her hand, trailing from her knuckles to her wrist. At first it felt like an
accident, but his fingers lingered on her skin too long for a casual touch. Before Lucia
could react, though, he withdrew his hand. He reddened, looking as startled as she by
that unexpected intimacy. Flustered, she downed half her water in one gulp.
Rashid glanced out at the sky. "The new moon will be soon."
"Are you interested in astronomy?" she asked.
"I've always liked it." He took a swallow of water from the thermos. "The new month
starts with the first crescent of the new moon."
She wanted to ask what he meant by the "new month," but she hesitated, afraid she
would sound uneducated. As Rashid finished the water in his thermos, Lucia noticed
Enrico checking his rearview mirror. It was odd the way he watched Rashid with such
intense concentration. But before his observation became overt, Enrico turned his
attention back to the road.
So they sat while the car hummed through Taormina. After Lucia finished her water,
she held the cup in her lap, fidgeting with its handle. She felt she should say something,
but she didn't know what. Just as she opened her mouth to try, Rashid started to speak.
They both stopped and gave awkward laughs.
"You go first," he said.
"I was going to ask about your article."
He glanced at the paper, now on the seat between them. "I wrote that years ago. But it
took a long time in the referee process."
"Referee?"
"It's how scientific papers get published. The editor sends it to experts in the field.
Referees. They recommend whether or not to publish it."
"They must have liked it, then."
Rashid grimaced. "Not at all. I had to do many rewrites before the editor finally
accepted it for publication."
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"Do you mind if I look at it?"
"Go ahead." He seemed pleased by her interest.
She picked up the paper and scanned the first page. Under the title, a paragraph headed
with the word Abstract summarized the article. After reading the summary several
times, she said, "I don't understand. What does Islam have to do with machine
intelligence?" Then she flushed, wondering if he would take the question wrong. "I hope
I haven't offended."
"You haven't." Dryly he added, "It's the same question the referees asked."
"AI. Artificial intelligence. A computer that thinks."
"Essentially." Rashid's face had become more animated. "Many people believe it is
impossible. One argument is that humans have a soul and machines don't. I was arguing
that ideas of spirituality and AI aren't incompati-ble." He leaned forward, elbows on his
knees, his face contemplative. "The human capacity for thought this is what defines us
as unique in the world as we know it. The argument is this: If God bestowed that
capacity on us because we have a soul, how can we ever create a thinking machine? It
has no soul. Perhaps it is even blasphemy to consider such a prospect."
Intrigued, she said, "But you don't think so?"
"I thought about it for a long time." Sitting back again, he spoke slowly. "When I was
young, I learned an image for the soul that I very much liked. They are birds on a high
perch, some grouped close together, others farther apart. At a given time, one descends
to Earth to take its given place within the body of a person. But only in a person." He
paused. "So yes, in that sense I would follow the theological objection. But I don't see
why this should mean an AI can never become self-aware. And if it does learn to reflect
on itself, surely it can develop a conscience."
"Is that what you said in your paper?"
"A bit, but more formally." He gave her a wry smile. "Actually, that particular subject
comes up more with my father. He was never convinced my work at the university was
quite acceptable."
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Catherine Asaro - The Veiled Web
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