Part 21 (1/2)
Elaine was still on her feet. ”Would you write a play for us, Will?”
”Of course. If you like.”
”A cla.s.sic?”
”That would be someone else's call.”
”Wonderful,” she said. The cla.s.s applauded as the bell rang. ”Could you do a comedy?”
”I think I can manage that.”
”How long do you think it will take?”
”I'll have it for you tomorrow.”
”Tomorrow? You've already written one?”
”I'll do it this evening.”
”I'm sorry, Lou, it won't happen.” Dennis stood staring at the open door as the last of the students left the room.
”He's not really a Shakespeare clone.”
”That's correct. It will try to put something together, but it'll be dreary stuff.” He shook his head. ”I thought he understood his limitations.”
”Well, Dennis, anyhow he put on a great show.” Students for the next cla.s.s were beginning to file in. ”Have you tried to let him write something?”
”No point. It's not a true artificial intelligence. There's no such thing. Probably never will be.”
”Then what is it?”
”It's a simulation.” He picked up the pod, closed it, and slipped it into his pocket. ”You know what the Turing test is for artificial intelligence?”
”Not really.”
”When you put a computer and a person into a room and can't tell which is which just by talking. Will pa.s.ses that one easily. But it doesn't mean he can actually think.”
The drama cla.s.s wouldn't meet again until Wednesday, but a couple of them showed up at my office to tell me how much they'd enjoyed meeting Will, and that they were looking forward to seeing whether he could actually produce a Shakespearean play. I told them not to get their hopes up.
That evening I got a call from Dennis. ”I've got it,” he said. ”The t.i.tle is Light of the Moon.”
”Have you looked at it?”
”More or less.”
”What do you think?”
”I'll be interested in hearing your opinion.”
”Can you send me a copy?”
The t.i.tle page read Light of the Moon by Dennis Colby. That of course was a joke of some sort, and warned me he probably did not have a high opinion of the play. I got some coffee and got started. The opening pages suggested that Babes at Moonbase might have been a more descriptive t.i.tle. Three young women arrive on the Moon to take up positions with the World s.p.a.ce Agency and, in their spare time, to find some quality males. Tanya is an astronaut who wants to qualify for the upcoming Jupiter flight; Gretchen, a physicist who hopes that the new orbiting Belcker Telescope Array will finally reveal signs of a living civilization somewhere; and Huian, a doctor who came to the Moon primarily to forget a former boyfriend.
It was a comedy, but in the Renaissance sense that it was simply not a tragedy. Laughs were there. Nonetheless it was for the most part pure drama. And, I realized, as the action moved forward, a powerhouse. Tanya has to sacrifice her chance for the Jupiter flight to help a guy she doesn't even like. Gretchen watches as the Belcker comes online and the five superscopes look out toward Beta Galatia and see moving lights! But she realizes that neither she nor anyone else would ever have the opportunity to talk with whoever is out there, because Beta Galatia is eleven thousand light years away. ”They're already dead and gone,” she says. ”Like the pharaohs.”
And Huian discovers that the lonely, graceful moonscapes only elevate her sense of loss.
”You really liked it that much?” Dennis said. He seemed surprised.
”It's magnificent.”
”I thought it was pretty good, but-I mean, Will's not supposed to be able to perform at anything like this level.”
”Have I permission to send it to my students?”
They loved it. All except Frank Adams, who said it was OK. ”A little over the top, though.” Frank never really approved of anything. He'd thought Our Town was slow.
In the spring, the Masque performed Light of the Moon to packed houses at the Dan Rodden Theater. It became the first show to leap directly from a collegiate stage to Broadway.
”Can he do anything else?” I asked Dennis. ”Can he figure out how to go faster than light? Anything like that?”
He laughed. ”He's not programmed for science.”
”Has he written any other plays?”
”In fact, he has. JFK.”
”Is it as good?”
”Kennedy sweats out the 1962 Cuban missile crisis, knowing that he was the one who caused it when he put missiles into Italy and Turkey.”
”That sounds good,” I said. ”Does Will get the byline this time?”
”No. And I'd be grateful if you'd just let that part of the story go away.”