Who Watches the Watchers?
Staying Behind by Ken Lui is a haunting prophetic tale set in the aftermath from an apocalypse that no one predicted. One answer frequently given about what separates man from machine is the concept of free will. But what if that choice is to remove oneself from being a biological human, transferring, hopefully, your sentience into a machine? Conversely, what about being transferred against your will?
Staying Behind sits at the crossroads of these questions and poses many more. Liu goes to great length to chronicle the decline of civilization and the technology that binds it together. Parallels are drawn repeatedly against the real world and the virtual world.
The most immediate question that came to mind was who was taking care of the machines and networks where billions of residents reside? In spite of the details revealed in the tale, Liu makes no mention of the creators setting up a permanent, reliable maintenance system to keep the machines running.
If it assumed that one was indeed put in place, what is to prevent those machines from evolving toward their own sentience? What if the new, dominant life forms then forget, or choose, to stop serving an ancient machine?
It isn't a stretch to see this story as a potential precursor to Harlan Ellison's I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream. Would the machines have an ethical right to no longer be subservient? Who'd be around to make that judgement, and under what authority?
Asimov's famous Three Laws of Robotics would not apply, either. After all, if the machines could logically believe that a space station's generator is their god, then it is easy to imagine the sentient machines can come to the logical conclusion that the "Digital Adam" harboring the consciousness of the former inhabitants of the planet is neither human nor contains humans.
Which brings up the next question: what is human? Liu addresses this concept no less than four times in Staying Behind.
The narrator ponders the following: "For every Uploaded man, there was a lifeless body left behind, the brain a bloody pulpy mess after the destructive scanning procedure. But what really happened to him, his essence, his — for lack of a better word — soul? Was he now an artificial intelligence? Or was he still somehow human, with silicon and graphene performing the functions of neurons? Was it merely a hardware upgrade for consciousness? Or has he become a mere algorithm, a clockwork imitation of free will?"
[Narrator's father]: "If you're doing things the exact same way as your ancestors, then your way of life is dead, and you've become a fossil..."
[Narrator's mother]: "You have no sense of what's really important in life, what's worth holding onto. There's more to being human than progress."
The narrator speaks of his mother, he say she taught him that, "...our mortality makes us human."
And lastly the narrator tells his wife, as to why he can't stop trying to protect his daughter from Digital Adam, he says, "I can't give up," I tell Carol. "I'm human."
Each question, and each statement seems to ask and answer the question succinctly. The difference between a sentient biological human and a sentient machine will only be the questions an organic human can ask that a machine cannot. In other words, the exact same logic, the exact same questions and answers can be asked by any sentience, not just organic human.
Each of these forementioned stories deal with machine sentience and human sentience. What's clear is that the question of what is human is the wrong question. What is sentient is the right one. At least, it has a better chance of being answered.

















