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By Root 863 0

When do you stop asking questions? It could always be the very next question that shows the difference. You’d have to spend your whole life asking questions, and you still couldn’t come to a decision. And imagine how boring that would be for the human in the test. And the computer too, of course, if it really did think like a human. Your whole life spent answering random questions. Except the computer wouldn’t grow old and die, like the human. Which is another difference between them. Should you cry when an artificial intelligence dies? Is there any difference between a dead AI and a broken watch? Of course, that’s another area in which Turing’s theories differed from Descartes’. Can a computer have a soul? one side would say – and the other would say, Ah, but does a human being? And then there are all those in between – who believe a human has a soul and a computer does not, but neither does a dog, or a creature from Mars. For those who think computers can have a soul, do they think dogs do? What about a computerised dog?

An android dog. Except it wouldn’t be an “android”, would it. A canindroid?

A candroid. That’s a good word. That would mean that a computerised cat would be a feldroid. And a computerised bear would be an ursdroid. And a 76

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computerised wolf would be a lupdroid. And a computerised sheep would be an ovoid. No, that’s not right. An ovdroid. That’s it. Though I’m not entirely sure why anyone would want a computerised sheep. How would you tell an Artificial Sheep Intelligence? What sort of questions could Turing ask it? “Is that grass nice?”, perhaps. Oh, are we there?’

They were there. The banner read: EARTHWORLD. SO REALISTIC, YOU’LL

THINK YOU’VE TRAVELLED IN TIME AND SPACE! The Doctor smiled knowingly.

Hanstrum keyed in a few numbers on a security pad, and the huge double doors slid open. Here in the foyer, they were treated to spinning holo-images of dinosaurs, medieval maidens, Egyptian mummies and, taking up most of the space, an elephant. There was also a booth where one could buy EarthWorld T-shirts (I’M AN EARTHLING – ARE YOU?); EarthWorld badges in the shape of pyramids or rocket ships; EarthWorld personal datapads and pencils; boxes of EarthWorld Genuine Earth Recipe Fudge (small print: made in Alpha Centauri) and EarthWorld Genuine Earth Recipe Coca-Cola (‘with Real Earth Cocaine!’).

Posters invited visitors to book now for An Audience with Julius Caesar (includes Gladiatorial Show), A Night with Elvis Presley (featuring Genuine Earth Songs!), and Robin Hood: The Outlaw Experience (Bows Not Included). A keypad invited visitors to input their details if they wished to receive further information about Earth Heritage, and noted that they may be sent information on other organisations from carefully vetted galaxies. The Doctor went over to it and typed, ‘The Doctor, The TARDIS, The Universe’ and was slightly disappointed to find that he’d failed to fill in six of the required fields and this was therefore Insufficient Data.

Hanstrum, however, ignored all of this, and crossed to an insignificant door behind the elephant, labelled PRIVATE. STAFF ONLY. He knocked.

As the Doctor joined him, a voice from the other side of the door shouted,

‘Go away!’

‘Miss Durwell, this is Hanstrum. You will kindly open the door.’

There was an audible sigh of frustration, and then the door slid back. On the other side was a bank of viewing screens, instrument panels and keypads – a much more sizeable version of the triplets’ control room. A grey-haired woman was sitting with her back to them, frantically copying numbers from a screen on to a personal datapad. ‘This had better be important,’ she said, without turning to face them. ‘I’m extremely busy.’

‘I should think you would be, with all the barriers down and your robots on the rampage,’ commented the Doctor carelessly.

She turned then. ‘How do you know about that?’ she demanded.

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‘Well, look!’ The Doctor pointed at one of the viewing screens, where a horse-mounted knight in armour could be seen charging a small stegosaurus.