Today's episode is a reading of Isaac Asimov's The Machine that Won the War. I can't think of a story that's more appropriate for Data Skeptic.
Data Skeptic
2015 Holiday Special
(upbeat music) Happy Holidays, data skeptic listeners. I'd like to begin this episode sharing a little metadata about this show and podcasting in general. As listeners have surely realized, I'm not only a producer, but also an avid consumer of this wonderful format of podcasts. I subscribe to probably three dozen shows and do my best to keep my backlog to a minimum. Holidays and time off are a great opportunity to catch up. And I always assume that, like me, most listeners subscribe to shows which they automatically downloaded upon release for later consumption. Basically like Tivo for podcasts. If true, I should expect a pretty constant download rate with perhaps spikes when I have particularly provocative episodes that get shared or noteworthy guests whose own fans come for a one-time listen. I believe that if anything, holiday times would see a surge in downloads as people loaded up their phones for long car trips and plane rides. To my surprise, the last 18 months have falsified my hypothesis. There's a consistent and noteworthy drop in downloads around holidays. So I'm left with a dilemma of airing a show that will get less exposure, possibly paying a disservice to my guests. I expect anyone listening now is most likely a subscriber and true fan of the show. With that in mind, I hope you'll enjoy me as I break format for this episode. In the tradition of the Monster Talk podcast, I'm going to perform a reading of a short story for this episode in lieu of a regular show. When I made this decision, the story to read was immediately obvious to me. This story is one that should appeal to my listeners, data scientists and skeptics alike. But it's also a story that has played no small part in shaping me into the man I am today. I developed a taste for science fiction early in life. As early as I can recall, this started with the writings of Ernest Kanoy via his work on the X-1 radio program. Names like Ray Bradbury and Robert Heinlein eventually drew my attention, Arthur C. Clarke, and of course, the incomparable Isaac Asimov. Later in life, as I found my way to skepticism, I was thrilled to discover the role Asimov played in the movement as a founding member of the committee for the scientific investigation of paranormal claims, which today is known as the Committee for Skeptical Inquiry. This is all the more reason I'm happy to share one of his short stories with you today. I was a teenager when I first read, as I will again today, the machine that won the war. I can honestly say that this was the planting of a seed that led me to study artificial intelligence and to take great consideration for the ways in which people use, abuse, manipulate, and misunderstand data. Had I not read this story early in life, I'm not totally sure you'd be hearing me now. So it's with tremendous pleasure and a time of giving that I revisit this gift Asimov gave to me and share it here with you. I'm not formally trained in drama and I'm afraid that may weaken this presentation. I wish I could present this in a less amateur voice, but I appreciate those of you that will look past this, sit here by the fire with me, perhaps with a good night cap, and enjoy the machine that won the war. The celebration had a long way to go, and even in the silent depths of Multivex underground chamber, it hung in the air. If nothing else, there was the mere fact of isolation and silence. For the first time in a decade, technicians were not scurrying about the vitals of the giant computer. The soft lights did not wink out their erratic patterns. The flow of information in and out had halted. It would not be halted long, of course, for the needs of peace would be pressing. Yet now, for a day, perhaps for a week, even Multivex might celebrate the great time and rest. The Mars Swift took off the military cap he was wearing and looked down the long and empty main corridor of the enormous computer. He sat down rather wearily in one of the technician's swivel stools in his uniform, in which he had never been comfortable, took on a heavy and wrinkled appearance. He said, "I'll miss it all after a grisly fashion. It's hard to remember when we weren't at war with Denab, and it seems against nature now to be at peace and to look at the stars without anxiety." The two men with the executive director of the Solar Federation were both younger than Swift. Neither was his gray. Neither looked quite as tired. John Henderson, thin-lipped and finding it hard to control the relief he felt in the midst of triumph, said, "The Destroyed." "The Destroyed, it's what I keep saying to myself over and over and I still can't believe it. We all talk so much over the years about the menace hanging over Earth and all its worlds, over every human being, and all the time it was true, every word of it. And now we're alive, and it's the Denabians who are shattered and destroyed. There'll be no menace now, ever again." "Thanks to Multivex," said Swift, with a quiet glance at the imperturbable Jablonsky, who through all the war had been chief interpreter of science's oracle. "Right, Max," Jablonsky shrugged, automatically he reached for a cigarette and decided against it. "He alone, of all the thousands who had lived in the tunnels within Multivex, had been allowed to smoke, but toward the end he had made definite efforts to avoid making use of the privilege." She said, "Well, that's what they say." His broad thumb moved in the direction of his right shoulder, aiming upwards. "Jealous, Max?" "Because they're shouting for Multivex? Because Multivex is a big hero of mankind in this war?" Jablonsky's craggy face took on an air of suitable contempt. "What's that to me? Let Multivex be the machine that won the war, if that pleases them." Henderson looked at the other two out of the corner of his eyes. In the short interlude that the three had instinctively sought out in the one peaceful corner of a metropolis gone mad, in this enthralled between the danger of war and the difficulties of peace, when for one moment they might find Cersei. He was conscious only of his weight of guilt. Suddenly it was as though that weight were too great to be born longer. It had to be thrown off along with the war. Now, Henderson said, " Multivex had nothing to do with victory. It's just a machine, a big one," said Swift. "Then just a big machine, no better than the data fed it. For a moment he stopped, suddenly unnerved at what he was saying." Jablonsky looked at him, his thick fingers once again fumbling for a cigarette, and once again drawing back. "You should know. You supplied the data. Or is it just that you're taking the credit?" "Whoa," said Henderson angrily. "There is no credit. What do you know about the data Multivac had to use? Predigested from a hundred subsidiary computers here on Earth, on the moon, on Mars, even on Titan, with Titan always delayed, and always that feeling that its figures would introduce an unexpected bias. "It would drive anyone mad," said Swift, with gentle sympathy. Henderson shook his head. "It wasn't just that. I admit that eight years ago, when I replaced LaPonta's chief programmer, I was nervous. But there was an exhilaration about things in those days. The war was still long-ranged, an adventure without real danger. We hadn't reached the point where man vessels had to take over and where interstellar warps could swallow up a planet clean, if aimed correctly. But then, when the real difficulties began, angrily, he could finally permit anger. He said, "You know nothing about it." "Well," said Swift, "tell us, the war is over. We've won." "Yes," Henderson nodded to said. He had to remember that. Earth had won, so all had been for the best. "Well, the data became meaningless." "Meaningless? You mean that literally?" said Jablonsky. "Literally? Literally. What would you expect? The trouble with you two is that you weren't out in the thick of it. You never left Multivac Max, and you, Mr. Director, never left a mansion except on state visits where you saw exactly what they wanted you to see. "I was not as unaware of that," said Swift, "as you may have thought." "Do you know?" said Henderson, "to what extent the data concerning our production capabilities, our resource potential, our trained manpower, everything of importance to the war effort, in fact, had become unreliable and untrustworthy during the last half of the war. Group leaders, both civilian and military, were intent on projecting their own improved images, so to speak, so they obscured the bad and magnified the good. Whatever the machine might do, the men who programmed them and interpreted the results, had their own skins to think of and competitors to stab. There was no way of stopping that. I tried and failed." "Of course," said Swift in quiet consolation, "I can see that you would." This time Jablonsky decided to light a cigarette. "Yet, I presume you provided Multivac "with data in your programming. "You said nothing to us about unreliability. "How could I tell you? "And if I did, how could you afford to believe me?" demanded Henderson savagely. "Our entire war effort was geared to Multivac. "It was the one great weapon on our side. "For the Danebians had nothing like it. "What else kept up morale in the face of doom, "but the assurance that Multivac "would always predict and circumvent any Danebian move, "and would always direct and prevent "the circumvention of our moves. "Great space. "After our spy warp was blasted out of hyperspace, "we lacked any reliable Danebian data to feed Multivac. "And we didn't dare make that public." "True enough," said Swift. "Well then," said Henderson. "If I told you the data was unreliable, "what could you have done but replace me, "and refuse to believe me? "I couldn't allow that." "What did you do?" said Jablonsky. "Since the war is won, I'll tell you what I did." I corrected the data. "How?" asked Swift. "Intoition, I presume. "I juggled things till they looked right. "At first, I hardly dared. "I changed a bit here and there "to correct what were obvious impossibilities. "When the sky didn't collapse around us, I got braver. "Toward the end, I scarcely cared. "I just wrote out the necessary data as it was needed. "I even had the Multivac annex prepared data for me "according to a private programming pattern "I had devised for the purpose. "Random figures?" said Jablonsky. "Not at all. "I introduced a number of necessary biases." Jablonsky smiled quite unexpectedly, his dark eyes sparkling behind the crinkling of the lower lids. Three times a report was brought to me about unauthorized use of the annex, and I let it go each time. "If it had mattered, I would have followed up "and spotted you, John, and found out what you were doing. "But, of course, nothing about Multivac "mattered in those days. "So you got away with it. "What do you mean nothing mattered?" asked Henderson suspiciously. "Nothing did. "I suppose if I had told you this at the time, "I would have spared you your agony. "But then, if you had told me what you were doing, "it would have spared me mine. "What made you think Multivac was in working order? "Whatever data you supplied it. "Not in working order?" said Swift. "Not really, not reliably. "After all, where were my technicians "in the last years of the war? "I'll tell you, they were feeding computers "on a thousand different space devices. "They were gone. "I had to make do with kids, I couldn't trust, "and veterans who were out of date. "Besides, do you think I could trust "the solid state components coming out of cryogenics "in the last years? "Cryogenics was in any better place "as far as personnel was concerned than I was. "To me, it didn't matter whether the data being supplied " Multivac was reliable or not. "The results weren't reliable. "That much I knew. "What did you do?" asked Henderson. "I did what you did, John. "I introduced a bugger factor. "I adjusted matters in accordance with intuition. "And that's how the machine won the war. "Swift leaned back in the chair "and stretched his legs out before him. "Such revelations. "It turns out that the material handed me "to guide me in my decision-making capacity "was a man-made interpretation of man-made data. "Is that right? "It looks so," said Jablonski. "Then I perceive I was correct "in not placing too much reliance upon it," said Swift. "You didn't?" Jablonski. "Despite what he had just said, "managed to look professionally insulted. "I'm afraid I didn't. " Multivac might seem to say, "Strike here, not there, do this, not that. "Wait, don't act. "But I could never be certain "that what Multivac seemed to say, it really did say. "Or what it really said, it really meant. "I could never be certain. "But the final report was always plain enough, sir," said Jablonski. "To those who did not have to make the decision, perhaps. "Not to me. "The horror of the responsibility of such decisions "was unbearable, and not even Multivac "was sufficient to remove that weight. "But the point is, I was justified in doubting, "and there was tremendous relief in that. "Caught up in the conspiracy of mutual confession, "Jablonski put titles aside. "What did you think, then, Lamar? "After all, you did make decisions. "How?" Well, it's time to be getting back, perhaps, but I'll tell you first. Why not? "I did make use of a computer, Max, "but an older one than Multivac, much older. "He groped in his own pocket for cigarettes, "and brought out a pack, "along with a scattering of small change. "Old-fashioned coins dating to the first years "before the metal shortage had brought into being "a credit system tied to the computer complex. "Swift smiled rather sheepishly. "I still need these to make money seem substantial to me. "An old man finds it hard to abandon the habits of youth. "He put a cigarette between his lips "and dropped the coins one by one back into his pocket. "He held the last coin between his fingers, "staring absently at it. "Multivac is not the first computer friends, "nor the best known, "nor the one that can most efficiently lift "the load of decision from the shoulders of the executive. "A machine did win the war, John. "At least a very simple computing device did. "One that I used every time I had a particularly "hard decision to make. "With a faint smile of reminiscence, "he flipped the coin he held. "It glinted in the air as it spun "and came down in Swift's outstretched palm. "His hand closed it and brought it down "on the back of his left hand. "His right hand remained in place, hiding the coin. "Heads or tails, gentlemen," said Swift. "Well, for the last time in 2015, "I wanna thank everyone for listening to Data Skeptic. "This is Kyle Polich from DataSkeptic.com, "reminding you to keep being skeptical of and with data. "Have a good new year, everyone." (upbeat music) (upbeat music) [ Silence ]