Intelligence in Nature - Jeremy Narby [39]
If a single cell of yellowy slime can solve a maze, does this not confirm that the entire edifice of life contains intelligence? I read other publications by Toshiyuki Nakagaki with titles such as âAmoeboid Organisms May Be More Clever Than We Had Thoughtâ and conclusions such as âI had better change my stupid opinion that a unicellular organism is stupid.â I liked what I read so much that I contacted Nakagaki and requested an interview. He replied positively, and I began planning a trip to Japan, a country I had never visited, and where few people speak European languages. I invited along my companion, Beatrice, who has traveled widely in Asia and who is a speech therapist.
In late July, we caught an all-night flight from Switzerland to Tokyo, then flew north to Sapporo, where Nakagaki works as an associate professor at Hokkaido University. We arrived in the middle of the afternoon local time, checked into a hotel, had some coffee, then walked around town. The weather was sunny and crisp. Sapporo is modern and easy to get around, with tree-lined avenues. It reminded me of Vancouver. We ended up in a Japanese-style Italian restaurant called Africa and drank too much wine.
The following morning, we overslept and barely managed to make our appointment in the hotel lobby. Fortunately, Nakagaki was running late. It was raining outside. He showed up perspiring and carrying an umbrella. He was wearing wire-rimmed glasses, which suited his oval face. His short black hair was slightly graying on the sides. He seemed to be in his early forties. He dressed in an elegant and relaxed style: a checked shirt, green pants, socks, and thongs. Western clothes, Japanese footwear.
We walked under umbrellas as he led us across the campus. There were tall trees and spacious lawns between the buildings. Nakagaki explained that an American had founded the University of Hokkaido in the nineteenth century. At one point, he turned to me and said, âActually, you are not a scientist.â I was surprised by his directness. No one had said this to me before; in fact, people often assume the contrary. But I agreed with him.
We reached the Research Institute for Electronic Science, where Nakagaki has his office and laboratory. On entering the building, he asked us to take off our shoes and put on slippers, following Japanese custom. As we walked up the stairs to the third floor, he gestured at the walls and said, âThis is a cheap building.â
Nakagakiâs office appeared bare. It contained a desk, three basic chairs, simple white shelves filled with books, and a writing board. There was a large computer on his desk with a screen showing an e-mail in Japanese script. It caught my attention, and I noticed that the keyboard was marked with European characters. I asked how one wrote in Japanese on such a computer. He explained that Japanese uses three different scripts, including an ideographic script of Chinese origin, an alphabet of syllables to make up for the differences between Chinese and Japanese grammars, and a second alphabet of syllables for representing words imported from European languages. He went to the writing board and started showing us the different scripts. Then he returned to the computer and showed how one could shift the keyboard into a mode that allowed one to compose all three Japanese scripts. I felt relieved that Nakagaki spoke