Authors: Richard Huijing
For that matter, it's not improbable, now I actually think about
it, that such an innovation as this one can be ascribed directly or
indirectly to the use of artificial intelligence provided by me.
Should this indeed be the case, I owe the highest honours to myself in two ways rather than one. Further reason to be grand,
methinks.
So there'll be a reception at the conclusion of the ceremony, an
informal gathering with all kinds of snacks: Scotch eggs, sausage
rolls, canapes, sausages, possibly even a grill or barbecue, for such
are also things of these times, it seems to me. I like a bit of what I
fancy. There's not much I'll turn my nose up at. My mouth's
watering even now.
Meanwhile the president wants to have a cosy chat with me.
On that occasion I'll just ask him how things are with the younger
generation, whether there's sufficient new talent, and I'll press him
to stimulate that talent and to go on stimulating it. Then I take
another bite and a swig.
'How, in your case, did that talent come to develop' he'll ask.
I suspend breathing for a moment, because of a burp. 'Allow me
to tell you, Your Excellency.
'At first, I wasn't at all aware of my gift. I was still immature.
You know how it is: I frolicked with the others, I was the rascal
but never hurt a fly.
'One day I was separated from the others by the chaperon my
mother had same individual who from today is my driver,
for that I was taken to a completely clean room. I must
have been a nuisance again, must have played too wildly, been
chasing my screaming and slithering sisters too recklessly. Whatever
the reason for my segregation might have been, I was left in that room
and, rash and playful as I was, I instantly began to muck about there.
There wasn't much by way of excitement in that space. In fact it was
bare and uncongenial. At its centre there was an object I had never seen
before, but one which, oddly enough, I did - how shall I put it -
experience at once as something with which I had been familiar for
years, longer than my own little how it seemed. In
hindsight, that was the moment upon which genius awakened in me.
My chaperon looked on from a distance. I felt the talent kindle, deep
within me, like a fire, only it wasn't yet visible to the outside world.
'You must think of it as in the case of a toddler that has never seen a
piano before and with its nanny comes into a strange room where
there's a grand piano and instantly clambers on to the stool. So far it's
all a splendid sight but no more than that. But then that toddler puts its
little fingers on the keys and, without a score, plays Chopin's A-minor
Mazurka.'
A loudly lowing horde passes by, running and trampling wildly.
Please don't let the festive occasion be ruined by a protest action
or some such! It likewise seems to be part and parcel of the times
of today that groups with slogans and banners will make their way
to each government-organised solemn occasion, no matter how
venerable its tradition or how innocent its nature. I cannot hear
what is being cried, that's how inarticulately such louts apparently
will express themselves. Oh, my heart!
What's all this worrying I'm doing again? If, at manifestations
like this, protest actions are undertaken, reg'lar as clockwork, then
the forces of law and order will be thoroughly prepared for it in
consequence. Thus, the booing is already beginning to grow mute,
in fact.
But I hope that I'm not boring the president with my tale. Though
indeed he has asked for it himself, who knows, he may be doing so
purely out of formal politeness. Others, too, will want to have a
chat with me in order to give photographers an opportunity to
take a snap. It will therefore be little or no trouble for the president
to take his leave of me with some phrase or other. Instead, he
takes a whole string of sausages from a dish, gestures with his
impressive head in my direction and says, only just audible in
between the smacking noises he's making: my dear
do
Two ladies are standing somewhat tucked away behind me,
bleating that by now it's their turn to exchange views with me.
Happily for me - and them - someone arrives with a salver and
they each take a carrot and a few cauliflower florets and they have
themselves a bit of a nibble.
'As I was saying,' I went on, 'things went as though of their
own accord. To be honest, I have felt unhappy - from guilt -
because of this. May one, in all propriety, pride oneself on
something with which one has been blessed more than others
have, not through one's own doing but by nature?
'Soon I was receiving preferential treatment. Others were forced
to seek their fortunes elsewhere. At times they would leave by the
truck load. On the other hand, it would've been unforgivable
should I not have developed my talent and have withheld its fruits
from the nation. I should like to add, moreover, that to have a
talent doesn't mean by any means that you also know how to
exploit it. Most never stop to consider how much discipline and practice is demanded from a genius in order to reach the zenith of
his powers. Someone may have fine, muscled thing I, in
my turn, am jealous of - but to break track records with those legs
is another
'Yes, ehm, indeed, dear chap,' His Excellency interrupts me,
slightly irritated, I can dish up such tittle-tattle too, - he
closes his windpipe a moment to give precedence to a sizeable
but that room, what happened there in that room is
what I want to know something about!'
I blush, despite my years, all the way to behind my ears. 'But of
course, Your Excellency, that room - in that room stood the
apparatus with which for the first time I managed to generate
artificial intelligence. You must imagine that apparatus as a
primitive-looking construction of four heavy wooden beams which,
standing a touch at an angle off the floor, support a heavy wooden
block. The block is slightly curved at the top and has rounded
comers. It is covered in supple hide and that hide has been
smeared with a kind of grease that has a smell which I would
almost say is intoxicating, were it not for the fact that it makes a
genius wildly energetic. It no longer affects me now. It's true that I
still dream of it, from time to time, or that a certain whiff can bring
back that feeling, but then it's more a kind of melancholy, like a
mood which only still expresses itself in a tearful smile or a smiling
But, not to slip away once more into reflections which are
of no interest to anyone: youthful as I was, I jumped on to the
apparatus, that's to say, I jumped it from behind. Yes, the apparatus
has a rear which implies it also must have a front, but I never
bothered about that end. I grabbed the apparatus from behind, as it
were, clenching it firmly while I went on sniffing the leather
continuously so that saliva began to run from my mouth in floods.
There I stood, clenching and pressing up against the apparatus,
gaining a firm footing on the floor. And then a kind of miracle
took place.
'Whereas others have a barely noteworthy, even a somewhat
unfortunate looking little organ through which, let me put it
delicately, they urinate, in my case the talent manifested itself in a
selfconscious, growing and boastful shape. For a moment it made
me reel; my then already quite heavy body began to rock, and I
decided to co-operate with myself and began to ram the apparatus
with all I could muster and with massive talent, without realising
at that moment what it was I was creating, just like the toddler who allows its fingers to roam the keys without knowing what
fantastic music will be the consequence. No mazurka but a gush, a
whole series of gushes of artificial intelligence came out in my
case! How lucky it was then that the chaperon managed to catch it
in a glass beaker.
'That this was a case of artificial intelligence, I didn't know yet
at the time. I soon did gain the impression that I'd managed
something extraordinary. Lovingly, my chaperon led me to my
own, completely furnished room and gave me splendid food. I
appointed him secretary-dignitary at once.
Next morning already, someone presented himself in rubber
gloves and dressed in a white coat. He put a spotless white cloth
in front of his mouth and nose, and began to examine me at
length. I was startled for a moment. Could I have been mistaken?
Was my talent not a talent but a disease that had manifested itself?
But the noises of utter satisfaction he expressed ever more frequently during the examination calmed me down. And then, too, I
saw the letters stitched in blue on the breast pocket of his white
tunic: DRAIN. The District and Regional Artificial Intelligence
Network. I was proud and above all relieved.
'In a short space of time, I became big and strong: quite a bear.
By means of concentrates, knee-bends, wee trotting exercises and,
especially, daily meditations that frequently would take up the
entire late afternoon, I was able to raise the production of artificial
intelligence in a short space of time. I became adult which, among
other things, was noticeable by the routine manner in which I
reached results and the progressive failure of the childish rush of
saliva to materialise.
'The inspector from DRAIN paid his respects regularly and my
secretary kept a graph up to date on a wall of my room, a graph
which soon resembled a cross section of the Himalayas.
'Each of life's phases has its pleasures and ills. It goes without
saying that, even manages to
equal Mount Everest, a genius, too, will be depressed from time to
time. I mentioned this earlier on, I believe. Not to have to become
even more depressed, I have always refrained from speculations as
to what happened with the artificial intelligence. Was it, diluted,
added to the feed of common folk, or drunk, mixed with water or
milk? And what were the consequences of this? Consciously, I've
never wanted to take an interest in what DRAIN did with the
substance. Everything a genius gifts to the world can be deployed to both laudable and most objectionable ends, after all. One who,
being a supplier of genius, wishes to have influence on this himself,
has to invest so much time and energy in it that, as a source of
possible positive innovations, he drains himself, as near as no
matter, with for a consequence that his talent shrivels into an inner,
private crisis which, if observed at all, is of no importance whatsoever in the eyes of the outside
'I shouldn't quite wish to maintain that I disagree with you, old
chap,' the president grumbles, 'but always, everywhere I go, those
politics, that whingeing, excusez le mot, about politics and morality,
makes me sick as a parrot, as a parrot!' And he turns away from me,
takes five more slices from a steaming roast and then gestures to
his body guards to free a path for him.
There I stand, stamped but with the presidential back having
been turned on me.
It's my own fault. Though it's a quality of a genius that, sooner
than someone else, he will think through the philosophical, moral
and even theological implications of his life, precisely because of
this, he must also be considered able to foresee that not everyone
is always prepared to follow him in the matter, not even the
greatest ruling powers in the land.
Had I been wearing trousers, I would now have filled them a
packet. I always shit when I feel happy or satisfied - when I'm
feeling at ease, in any case. But now I have the feeling that I've
had to shit from fear. Odd: there's no cause to be fearful, after all.
On the contrary. Must be nerves.
Back home, I didn't think about putting on upper clothing or
not, but I did about donning a pair of trousers. I was just about to
slip into a pair of slacks but then I instantly abandoned the
intention again. Why are you getting that award? I wondered.
Those invited will want to see it, the cameras will want to record
it: everyone's entitled to it. A celebrated concert pianist doesn't
mount the stage with his hands cloaked in thick mittens, does he?
A heldentenor doesn't accept a prize with a scarf his mother knitted
in front of his mouth, does he?! You can no longer demonstrate the
powers and capacities you had when in full flower, but if you want
to subject yourself to such an who would not? -
you owe it to display all that still remains of the very measure of
your genius, to turn yourself inside out if need be: you're public
property, after all!
Now it turns out to have been doubly sensible to have left the
trousers at home. 'Come on, granddad,' my driver said when he
saw me halting to ponder them, and he gave me a nudge, into the
car. Just imagine, the laureate making his way inside in a minute,
the old head held bravely high, but with a big wet patch as
consequence of a little something in the seat of his I can't
help it that, once again, I begin belly laughing about my own
fantasies: it's all I'm used to, amusing myself by myself. I pee at the
same time - might as when, later on, not a drop of
artificial intelligence comes forth, that's as maybe, taking my years
into account, but when common old urine begins to flow in its
stead, that would be a disgrace; the very thought makes me run
cold.
The drivers have ended their conversation. I hear the bang of a car
door. It'll be the president being driven up to the entrance. My
driver, too, now gets in and starts the engine. Oh, my heart, my
lungs, my head ... Can I already hear the festive march?
I must see to it that people continue to treat me with respect
and not, at the end of it all, laugh at me good-naturedly, or even
with something of pity in their eyes. My driver's hob-nobbing on
departure really went too far for my liking. It would be ill advised,
when the president asks how I hope to spend the years remaining,
to reply that I want nothing other than to eat, shit and sleep. But
too soon by far, when you're elderly, you are treated like a small
child, and a small child without genius at pop goes your
well-earned respect.