The AI Notebook =============== by Jonathan R. Partington More triumphs in Artificial Intelligence by Charles Cabbage It is a while since I explained how I managed to give sentience to a can of beans and later created "Artificial Wisdom". My most recent project has been to design an "Intelligent Terminal" -- some form of microcom- puter, or PC, which can not only be used as a terminal to our IBM mainframe, but is able to perform useful functions in its own right. It is very important to get the level of intelligence just right: in my first attempt, I designed a terminal so clever that it caught religion, and would refuse to transmit data to the mainframe on the grounds that it was too busy praying for my soul. I don't know if it ever discovered God's E-MAIL address, because the whole computer centre was later struck by lightning and we had this terrible plague of frogs -- Heaven knows what message it was trying to send on my behalf. I then decided to reduce the genius level a bit, but my Mark II terminal turned out to be too stupid. "Transmit data to mainframe, Igor" I would tell it, to which it would reply "Uh, what data, Master?" which was a bit infuriating after three hours of typing. Apparently its "mind" had been wandering and it had been dreaming romantic dreams about the drinks machine nearby. Evidently I was on the wrong tack. However, while I was washing my socks the next day, inspiration struck. Obtaining access to a washing machine, I poured three cans of alphabet soup into the top of it, wired it up, and pressed the "Wash at 300 baud" button. I sat down in front of the large screen and waited. Before my eyes the alphabet soup formed the words "WAITING FOR TERMINAL INPUT". But there was the problem -- although the terminal had 5 function keys (labelled with mysterious runes such as "Slow Spin" and "Rinse Hold") there were no typewriter keys. I would therefore have to provide voice input, in the same way as a broken car will often run better if shouted at. Bravely I opened the lid and shouted in "Log me on to the IBM, edit my paper to change every occurrence of the words 'Hilbert Space' into 'Martha the whistling Tapeworm', correct Theorem 3, print it out, and send it to the Bulletin of the London Mathematical Society." The screen displayed the words "NO PAPER", so I threw in some old newspapers, three odd socks and some soap powder, and waited. Within a few seconds, the door burst open and alphabet soup and shredded newspaper flew out into my face. However, the socks had disappeared! A week later I received an unexpected letter from the London Mathematical Society, thanking me for sending them my socks but regretting that owing to pressures of space they were unable to publish them. This I account a partial success, though clearly more development is necessary. Donations to help me continue my researches should be sent to: Charles Cabbage, Third Washing machine from the right, Scrubbosox laundrette, Cambridge