Dr. Stevens collected the papers in silence. As he passed my desk, he paused. He looked down at my page, read the final line, and his mouth did something I had never seen in four years.
“That the kite won’t fly,” I said. dr. stevens' final examination
My heart stalled. Then it sank.
“Watch her,” he said.
To my left, Mira was already writing furiously. She was the pragmatist. She would probably argue for qualia—the raw, felt sense of experience. A machine processes redness; a child feels the burn of a sunburnt knee. He looked down at my page, read the
My first instinct was to cheat. To pull out the textbook definitions. Understanding is the ability to grasp the implications of a fact. But a machine could do that. A chess AI understands that moving a knight to C3 implies a defensive formation. Then it sank