百度搜索 上海梦想 天涯 或 上海梦想 天涯在线书库 即可找到本书最新章节.
Professor Yao arrived punctually at the Waldorf Astoria in New York. It was a hotel that, despite the proliferation of intelligent buildings with elaborate ecosystems over the last few decades, had mao g to its ageing Art Deco charm. The Waldorf Astoria was a landmark historical building, kept that way by a ittee of iial members of the establishment to protect the rapidly disappearing remnants of the old New York city. The digerati, osti, financiers, politicos, academics, teocrats and the wealthy had desded on this archaic patch to attend the World Teology Forum, the biggest meeting of fame, money and minds in the modern world.It was raining heavily outside and the clouds had turo heavy gray molasses shifting slowly across a featureless sky. Now safely ihe ostentatious hotel, the diminutive professor found himself weaving his way between the sharp Saville Row suits and iional designer outfits of high society. He felt like a carp out of water, trying to free itself from a tangle of weeds. He looked a out of place. He was a small balding man in a cheap gray Guangdong-manufactured polyester-mix suit who still couldn’t get over the excitement of what had just happened in his native a.
Outside, a large se of Park Avenue and its adjoining streets had been cordoned off, droplets of rain casg off the shial barricades and the plastic ribbons. There were armed NYPD cops, carrying an assortment of state-of-the-art crowd-dispersion onry, for as far as the eye could see. Some of the ons had muzzles large enough for a full grown man to climb into. A small cluster of demonstrators stood way back from the barriers and the cops, waving banners and ting slogans and generally not looking too fident about being able to get their messages across. If they’d had any hopes of disrupting the forum, those hopes had been quickly put in check. The demonstrators eyed the cops suspiciously.
The professor’s taxi, a hulking black vehicle of the like he had never seen before, had dropped him off two blocks down the road. He had been forced to walk the rest of the way, rain water coalesg on his suit. He had had some trouble explaining to a couple of NYPD officers on bulky e and fiberglass electric motorbikes that he was an invited guest to the forum. They had scrutinized his smartcard, eying his suit suspiciously. One of the cops had swiped the smartcard on a wireless reader on his wrist and waited for the system to query a remote database and e back with a result. They had looked like they didn’t expect him to be authenticated.
Professor Yao had started to sweat in his polyester suit, or was it the rain slowly oozing through the syic weave, and his round fad intelligent eyes had began to show some . Mentally, he could trace the database query snaking through the system and knew every step the puters where taking to verify his identity, down to the last memory routihe rain was a dark omen, reminding him of the dog that had spent all night howling outside his Beijing hutong two nights earlier.
Then he’d seen his photo flicker on the officer’s wrist and waited patiently as the cops satisfied themselves that he was ihe authenticated entity. He disliked the probing and the body searg but was relieved when the black poli said to the oriental-looking ohat he was . Of course he was , who the hell did they think they where questioning his personal hygiene? And the oriental-looking one could have shown some respect by addressing him in ese, but these Ameris were all the same. They had no respect for their elders.
Then Professor Yao had walked up Park Aveowards the Waldorf Astoria, which he’d heard from his more iionally-minded colleagues at Beij<strike>.99lib.</strike>ing’s Tsinghua Uy, was a very old hotel. The big electrics whizzing past made him feel even more out of place. Long limousines snaked up the road, their b antennas cutting ar the air. Among the ant line of vehicles had been cars the likes of which the professor had never seen before. They were ostentatious displays of wealth. There were even a few hybrids running on diesel, mushrooms of dark gray emissions blowing out of their exhausts.
Professor Yao found himself in the grand lobby of the Waldorf, ferried briskly by a sea of bodies past a huge ornate clock sitting smack bang in the middle. Were those the heads of past Ameri presidents on the base of the clock? Clocks were bad omens and to have them so lio dead Ameri leaders was only tempting fate. He adjusted his bifocals, which were perched precariously on the blunt edge of his largish but friendly-looking nose. His bushy black eyebrows furrowed into arches and his forehead formed a knot as he fumbled in his jacket pocket for the itinerary.
Smart airborne micribles glided up in the ceilings above the crowds itently cyg through corporate spos. puterized female voices annouhe various rooms where the talks were being held. He thought he heard his name over the din of chatter and social w. Professor Yanized a few faces from the iional magazines, corporate CEOs, prize-winning academics, the celebrity owners of several famous software panies and an anemic-looking model he’d seen on the billboards that lihe streets of Beijing. There were quite a few fashion models at the forum, extremely thin spes with egos as large as those enhanced chests that they all seemed to have. Humans where getting ridiculous in their need for self-expression. Maybe the knowledge he was here to impart would make everyoake a hard look at themselves and the values they held dear.
Today was the day that the world would realize that he, Professor Yao Guo , had achieved what billions of dollars <code>藏书网</code>and geions of America’s best brains had failed to achieve. Professor Yao was one of the world’s pre-emi authorities on neural works and artificial intelligence, but the world was not yet aware of this fact. He was literally minutes away from being propelled to the top of his field iionally.
While his colleagues at Tsinghua Uy had gained iional renown with lucrative publishing tracts and te the world’s best uies and researstitutions, Professor Yao had stayed at home, in his modest house in one of the last surviving hutongs in Beijing, w for his try. He received a grant from a department of the People’s Liberation Army as well as project funding and access to some of the most advanced military puters for the purpose of researto AI. He had eschewed the lucrative corporate directorships and the sulting and advisory opportuhat had e his way over the years, preferring to stay away from such distras.
Professor Yao’s name was not to be found in any iional stific journals but in classified research reports used by leading military think tanks in New a. He was the principal architect of New a’s cyberspace, called the Wang, and the new system that, though as yet unofficial, had seen New a quietly take the lead in emerging information teologies. But even that was nothing in parison with his latest breakthrough.
He was taking a big risk by being here, but the AI had vinced him, and he couldn’t predict what fate awaited him on his return to New a. It had occurred to him that the AI may have had the ulterior motive of taking him out of the picture but he had quickly dismissed the idea as ludicrous. heless, he had takeions and he was determio make his annouo the iional unity here in New York, before handing over the product of his research to the People’s Liberation Army.
That way he would be leveling the playing field of the future while giving New a just a small advantage. He would give the world’s artificial intelligenunity enough information to make the breakthrough on their own, after New a had secured all iional patents. This was for the good of all humanity. He would single-handedly sound the trumpet for a paradigm shift in human development and achievement. The singularity was on the verge of shiftin<dfn>.99lib.</dfn>g into high gear and propelling the human rato a bold new era of intelligence.
Professor Yao atriot who loved New a in a way that was difficult for a non-ese to uand. Yet, to have suowledge in the hands of one try alone was dangerous. To have it in the hands of one man alone was unspeakable. Professor Yao khat at this very moment his life was in dahe majeneral in Beijing whose secret fundied in the breakthrough probably already knew he was gone, although it would be difficult for him to trace him to the World Teology Forum. There were a few ese delegates at the forum, acc to the agenda, but Professor Yao doubted any would reize him and he was relieved to see that most of them were from academia or the lower rungs of the military research apparatus. However, every time he saw an oriental face his heartbeat quied.
Professor Yao made his way towards a gleaming bank of elevators, mopping his forehead frantically with a small red handkerchief. Acc to the itinerary, his talk was at the hotel’s famed Starlight Roof on the eighteenth floor. His friend Dr. James Joplin, of the Massachusetts Institute of Teology’s puter Sd Artificial Intelligence Lab, had kept his promise to secure him the space at short notiot that he had met Joplin personally, but he had seen his pictures iernational magazines and exged ideas via hundreds of e-mails. Dr. Joplin had made him several offers to join him at MIT, but the humble professor had politely deed.
A huge plasma s above the escalator firmed his itinerary. He had asked for his o not be mentioned in the pre-event literature.
Vehe Starlight Roof
Speaker: Professor Yao Guo , Head of the Artificial Intelligend Nanoteology tre, Tsinghua Uy, Beijing, a
Topic: Quantum puting: a breakthrough in Artificial Intelligence
Time: 2.30PM-3.30PM
A wave of pride welled up in him, which he mao suppress quickly. He was not a proud man, but he was human and the occasional feeling of pride, quickly held bad smothered with humility, was not beyond him. Professor Yao gla his watch – thirty mio go. He shouldn’t have dohat. Almost immediately his heart started hammering away at his chest like a pic drill. The pounding in his ears was so loud that he thought the people around him could hear it. If only his wife was still alive to help calm him down.
The elevator doors hissed open and a crowd of people streamed out, many of them still wearing the earphones of the plementary real-time translation systems and clutg itineraries. All around the sound of various versations and puterized voices punctured with elevator music. There was excitement in the air, which rubbed off on the professor, settling him a little. Miraculously, he was alone in the elevator as it made its to the eighteenth floor.
Professor Yao khat the topic of his research would attract all the right people. He had deliberately e up with a title that would bring in the best minds in both Artificial Intelligend Quantum puting. Nanoteology had been slow meeting expectations and it was only retly that it had started to bear fruit after decades of research, trillions of dollars and so-called “breakthroughs”. The idea that it would play an important part in the foreseeable future of artificial intelligence had started to lose resonance. Many stists, especially those who were not ied in its medical applications, had already given up on the field as a waste of time. You cou<tt>.９9lｉb.t>ld get atoms and molecules to behave like miniature maes ears but their applications where pretty limited. They teo be orick ponies.
The professor exited the elevator into a room so opulently decorated that he couldn’t help being impressed. You had to hand it to the Ameris. They were masters of excess. Everything from the majestic delier to the engraved marble rotunda and the gilded ceiling spoke of another era. Already, half of the tasseled velvet seats were occupied, suggesting that it was going to be a packed auditorium. He noticed that the majority of the people quietly reading their itineraries and peering into their plementary video ss were bespectacled gray hairs like him. But Dr. James Joplin was o be seen. He’d said he’d be iarlight Room half an hour early so that they could have a quick chat before Professor Yao’s talk.
heless, another wave of ese pride, this one slightly larger than the last, welled up in Professor Yao, leaving a burniion on his cheeks. He adjusted his glasses, whice again had traveled to the end of his nose, and walked towards the stage. As he went by, a few members of the audience looked up at him and Professor Yao thought he saw shadows of false reition cross their faces. One or two nodded or raised their hands and Professor Yao nodded back, slightly embarrassed at the attentiowirled the thick jade ring on his finger, notig for the first time that the viridian hue of the jade had beuch paler. Or was it the effect of the lighting?
He almost tripped over one of several small robots gliding through the aisles little shots of Espresso coffee and finger-sized sandwiches. A rumble deep within his bowels reminded Professor Yao that he haden i hours. There’d been no time to pop down to atown for a quick bite and the meal served on the plane had been inedible. Professor Yao was not a b<s>九九藏书</s>ig fan of Western cuisine, which didn’t deliver the same sated feeling that o from authentic ese food. He had quickly checked into his hotel, refreshed himself and grabbed a taxi to the Waldorf.
“Testing, testing, testing. Owo, three ...” went a female voi the audio system. Professor Yao looked towards the stage to see a well-presented young woman in a tight-fitting gray suit on the podium. She couldn’t have been more thay-one years old. The sound of static filled the air and music began to blast from different loudspeakers. The sound shifted like storm clouds from one side of the room to another as the teis tested the audio. The girl turowards Professor Yao, flaming red hair ed TV presenter looks, and a flicker nition crossed her face. She walked purposefully towards him and Professor Yao suddenly felt embarrassed. A cloud of expensive perfume enveloped the professor.
“Hi Professor Yao, I was really worried you wouldn’t make it,” the girl said with genuine . “I am Wendy Bruckheimer with the World Teology Forum. I will be taking care of you today.” She flashed a smile, revealing perfectly eveh.
“o meet you, Ms. Bruckheimer. I must apologize for my tardiness,” the professor said haltingly, proud that his rusty English was holding up nicely with the attractive young woman.
“That’s OK. I expect you’ve heard about Dr. Joplin though?” she asked, looking at him intensely. Professor Yao felt the tempo of his heartbeat rise sharply. He fixed the Bruckheimer woman with a ed look.
“No. I haven’t. What happened?” A cresdo of alarm had crept into Professor Yao’s voice.
“Well, we left a message at your hotel. You see, Professor Yao, Dr. Joplin is dead.”
百度搜索 上海梦想 天涯 或 上海梦想 天涯在线书库 即可找到本书最新章节.