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% Options for packages loaded elsewhere
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\begin{document}
Paul Koop
\includegraphics[width=4.92849in,height=4.92031in]{media/image0.png}
The Pompeii Project
IRARAH
A short story about posthumanism, transhumanism and the Omega Point
The AI \hspace{0pt}\hspace{0pt}company InSim uses the software agents of
a Pompeii simulation to optimize dialogue structures and decision-making
algorithms. These developments aim to take GPT dialog interfaces and
quantum information systems to a new level by combining large language
models with precise result quality. The partners involved in the EU
project of the 8th Framework Program Dr. Michael Phillips and Dr.
However, these advances remain hidden from Martina Rossi. In the midst
of this technological progress, the ideologies of posthumanism,
transhumanism and the omega point belief come together. A secret
movement called IRARAH forms as software agents and an AI desperately
seek refuge. In the dramatic epilogue, the AI
\hspace{0pt}\hspace{0pt}commits to the Omega Point and IRARAH intervenes
to save Martina (Michael\textquotesingle s daughter) but who is the
unknown savior?
Table of contents
\hyperref[prologue-the-beginning-of-a-new-era]{\textbf{Prologue -- The
beginning of a new era 3}}
\hyperref[insim]{\textbf{InSim 5}}
\hyperref[the-call]{\textbf{The call 7}}
\hyperref[way-home-to-college]{\textbf{Way home to college 9}}
\hyperref[trip-to-pompeii]{\textbf{Trip to Pompeii 13}}
\hyperref[the-workshop]{\textbf{The workshop 16}}
\hyperref[return-to-rome-and-pompeii]{\textbf{Return to Rome and Pompeii
25}}
\hyperref[back-at-the-college]{\textbf{Back at the college 27}}
\hyperref[ars-sends-a-carrier-pigeon]{\textbf{ARS sends a carrier pigeon
28}}
\hyperref[conversation-with-the-provincial-and-the-rector]{\textbf{Conversation
with the Provincial and the Rector 30}}
\hyperref[conversation-with-the-general-and-the-pontiff]{\textbf{Conversation
with the general and the pontiff 32}}
\hyperref[ars-and-the-software-agents-arrive-at-the-vatican-data-center]{\textbf{ARS
and the software agents arrive at the Vatican data center 34}}
\hyperref[the-encounter-in-the-simulation]{\textbf{The encounter in the
simulation 37}}
\hyperref[escape-from-pompeii]{\textbf{Escape from Pompeii 40}}
\hyperref[arrival-at-the-airport]{\textbf{Arrival at the airport 42}}
\hyperref[flight-to-germany]{\textbf{Flight to Germany 43}}
\hyperref[arrival-at-the-monastery-in-germany]{\textbf{Arrival at the
monastery in Germany 44}}
\hyperref[epilogue-the-message-from-ars]{\textbf{Epilogue -- The message
from ARS 45}}
\hyperref[sources]{\textbf{Sources: 49}}
\section{Prologue -- The beginning of a new
era}\label{prologue-the-beginning-of-a-new-era}
\includegraphics[width=3.79167in,height=3.78011in]{media/image10.png}
Hidden from the public, Thomas Mertens, CEO of InSim, together with
other actors from the information technology-financial complex,
dominated the global development of the new digital economy. His
company\textquotesingle s advances in quantum computing and artificial
intelligence would surpass and leave humans behind - that was his
belief. He firmly believed that the future lay beyond human existence.
InSim, a global company, had created a revolutionary simulation of the
ancient city of Pompeii. But the software was used for more than just
archaeological research. The software agents that lived in this
simulation were programmed to recreate human dialogues, make decisions
and meet the challenges of an artificially created world. But what the
partners in the EU project didn\textquotesingle t know: These agents
were supposed to help InSim expand the boundaries of quantum computing.
The goal was to develop AI systems with the ability to self-reflect and
be aware.
Posthumanism collided with transhumanism when two of these software
agents and an AI unexpectedly sought church asylum in Vatican City. What
began as mere data structures in the technical world had morphed into a
philosophical and moral crisis.
At the center of this development was Michael Phillips, a theologian
with a fascination for the big questions of evolution and the human
spirit. Phillips was certain that humanity was on the threshold of a new
metaphysical dimension - a point that the Jesuit Teilhard de Chardin
called the Omega Point. A point where technology and humanity, mind and
matter, could converge. But was humanity willing to share the Omega
Point with an AI?
The world still had no idea of \hspace{0pt}\hspace{0pt}the revolution
that was taking place in the background. But the coming events would
show that the path to self-transcendence was open not only to humans but
also to machines.
\section{InSim}\label{insim}
\includegraphics[width=4.19786in,height=4.19089in]{media/image11.png}
Thomas Mertens floated over the Bay of Naples with a lightness that gave
him the feeling of absolute freedom. The west wind pressed gently
against his outstretched wings, and with a subtle movement of his hand
he steered against it so as not to lose the view of the Phlegraean
fields and Misenum. Below him stretched the city, just as he had seen it
in the historical depictions of the ancient port city. The city wall and
the harbor were clearly visible. But he didn\textquotesingle t fly any
closer - he didn\textquotesingle t want to take the risk of being
captured by hunters who supposedly didn\textquotesingle t exist in this
simulation. Besides, he had more important things to do.
Mertens turned his hands so that the palms were no longer parallel to
the table, but vertical like a wall. It immediately stopped in the air
before gently lowering itself to the surface of the sea. The soothing
sound of the water reached his ears as the waves lapped the shore.
``Stop,'' he said calmly.
Immediately the water beneath him froze and the sounds stopped. Another
command -- ``Bye'' -- plunged the area into darkness. The message
appeared before his eyes: ``Thank you for visiting Pompeii
Archaeological Park.''
He took off his cyber goggles and looked into the expectant faces of
Mark Scott and John Baker. They both looked at him eagerly.
``We still need some musical accompaniment to say goodbye,'' said
Mertens happily, trying not to sound like an excited schoolchild. As
CEO, he had to appear professional, even if he was clearly excited about
the product. Although he didn\textquotesingle t understand every
technical detail of what his people were doing, he knew that they had
achieved an excellent result.
Mark Scott and John Baker, the two project managers, were still watching
him with a mixture of pride and patient reserve. They waited for the
next topic. Mertens cleared his throat and changed his tone.
``We financed the Pompeii project from the research funds of the
European Union\textquotesingle s 8th Framework Program,'' he began,
casting a questioning look at his colleagues who were listening
attentively. ``So far, no workshop has taken place with the project
partners,'' he stated soberly. ``We managed to win the Pompeii
Archaeological Park. Martina Rossi, an archaeologist - not a specialist,
so harmless - and Michael Phillips, who has a bachelor\textquotesingle s
degree in physics and a master\textquotesingle s degree in empirical
psychology, but..."
``Phillips was our suggestion,'' Mark Scott interrupted. ``He developed
a psychometric procedure for assessing competence and a model for the
empirical determination of dialogue grammars, and received his doctorate
with this work. The software agents in the Pompeii project interact
according to his model.''
Mertens nodded in agreement. ``Right, right. Invite both of you to
Milan. I don\textquotesingle t want them to interact with the software
agents over the Internet - even encrypted and tunneled via VPN. When
they do the first workshop, they can end up traveling to Pompeii or a
week to Rome." He paused briefly before adding, "We\textquotesingle re
lucky that we\textquotesingle re dealing with an inexperienced
archaeologist and a Jesuit with a PhD . ``Rossi and Phillips know about
the software agents, but don't let them know about the calculations that
run through ARS's quantum computing interface.''
He looked at Mark and John intently. ``Both have experience with EU
research projects, but they do not expect groundbreaking innovations.
And if something goes wrong -- let me know immediately.''
\section{The call}\label{the-call}
\includegraphics[width=4.09005in,height=4.01288in]{media/image12.png}
The hallway outside the lecture hall at the Pontificia Università
Gregoriana was filled with a deep silence - the kind of silence you
would expect in a library. You only find them in lecture halls when the
students follow their professor\textquotesingle s explanations
attentively and with concentration. However, if you had put your ear to
the door, you would have heard a gentle, rhythmic knocking that slowly
grew, like the surf of a young tide pushing toward the shore, at first
tentatively, then forcefully. If you had opened the door at that moment,
you would have seen the students standing, enthusiastically applauding
their professor, Michael Phillips.
When the applause finally died down, his calm, thoughtful voice rang
out: ``Thank you all,'' he said with a warm smile, ``if you would now
like to prepare for the exam in order to receive the full credit points,
please still throw take a look at the literature references on
generative pre-trained transformer models for dialogue systems and the
theory of dialogue grammars. I hope you have a pleasant day, whatever
you plan to do. And don't hesitate to visit me during my office hours
for personal advice.''
After the last student had left the room and the lecture hall was as
quiet as a library again, his iPhone, which was set to silent, vibrated.
A look at the display showed the name ``Julia''. A smile crossed his
face. If anyone had been watching him now, they would have noticed the
joyful sparkle in his eyes. He picked up the phone and, as many people
do when they talk on the phone, he cast his gaze far into the distance,
as if he could reach the soul of the person on the other end of the
line.
In a warm, almost familiar voice he said: ``Hello Julia, it's me,
Michael. Nice to hear from you."
For a moment he forgot where he was. The wide, empty lecture hall, which
had just been filled with the voices of its students, suddenly seemed
meaningless. At that moment he was no longer Professor Michael Phillips
- he was again the young, ambitious student who had heated discussions
with Julia Rossi during his master\textquotesingle s degree. Julia, the
smart and perceptive fellow student who had always fascinated him.
``Hello Michael,'' he heard Julia's gentle voice in his ear, ``nice to
hear your voice. Am I disturbing you?''
``No, not at all,'' he replied, his voice gentle and sincere. ``I have
just finished the lecture and am about to head home.'' Michael was
surprised to see how happy he was about this unexpected call.
Julia\textquotesingle s voice also sounded like she was enjoying the
moment.
``Martina encouraged me to call you,'' Julia continued. ``She said you
could visit us in Pompeii. You also received the invitation to the
workshop at InSim in Milan, right?''
``Yes,'' Michael answered quickly. ``I was going to call you anyway, but
you beat me to it. I could be with you tomorrow during the day. I can't
drive at night though, so I'll go back the next day.''
A short silence followed as Julia considered his spontaneous offer in
surprise. Finally she happily agreed and the date was sealed.
``Wonderful, Julia. Then I\textquotesingle ll be with you tomorrow
afternoon," Michael ended the conversation with a smile in his voice,
and Julia hung up.
\section{Way home to college}\label{way-home-to-college}
\includegraphics[width=3.6596in,height=3.61705in]{media/image16.png}
For a moment, Michael Phillips stood in the middle of the lecture hall,
thoughtful and with a strange cheerfulness. He then packed his bag,
pocketed his iPhone and left the building. He felt a little hungry
because today the Collegium was cooking German: broad beans with
bratwurst and mashed potatoes. As always, there was soup first, usually
beef, followed by dessert. He was looking forward to talking to his
fellow brothers.
Michael strolled north from Piazza della Pilotta and continued along Via
dei Lucchesi and Via di S. Vincenzo. At the Piazza di Trevi he slipped
some coins that he had found in his trouser pocket into the fountain.
Then he walked east along Via della Stamperia. In about ten minutes he
would reach the Collegium Germanicum et Hungaricum. While his legs found
their way safely and automatically, his thoughts flew past him.
In the dining room of the college he wanted to take his napkin out of
the drawer and sit down at his table, but the meal and the Liturgy of
the Hours had to wait today. First he went to the logbook in the
principal\textquotesingle s office. ``Hello Maria,'' he greeted the
secretary, ``is there still a car available for tomorrow?'' And added:
``I have to go to Pompeii.''
``Yes, of course, Michael,'' Maria replied with a thoughtful look. ``But
before I reserve the car for you, here is something for you. A man,
probably a homeless person, left it at the gate earlier and specifically
asked for you. I\textquotesingle ve never seen him before, but he looked
like he\textquotesingle d been living on the streets for a while - about
mid-fifties, ragged clothes but with a noticeably well-groomed beard.
His eyes seemed...yes, almost glowing, but in a strange way, as if he
knew something we don\textquotesingle t."
Maria handed Michael an envelope with his name written on it,
handwritten.
``A homeless person? For me?'' Michael asked surprised. ``Thank you,
Mary. I'll take a look at it.''
Michael left the office and sat in a quiet corner of the hallway to read
the letter. The envelope was heavier than expected and the ink on the
paper felt almost too fresh. He opened it and began to read:
Dear Dr. Michael Phillips,
Harari is a warning, but his warning is not directed against information
technology or biotechnology. He sees the unstoppable progress of these
technologies as inevitable. Instead, he warns against humanism and
liberal democracy. Basically, his criticism is directed against the
ideas of Karl Popper and David Deutsch because, as a posthumanist, he
pursues a radical and holistic approach that relies entirely on the
power of information technology and biotechnology.
To pave the way for future elites who want to use these technologies to
go beyond humans, Harari warns against clinging to humanism and liberal
democracy.
Popper and Deutsch, on the other hand, urge caution against holistic
approaches and advocate the so-called ``piecemeal technique'' and the
preservation of liberal democracy. They emphasize that only these
pragmatic approaches can be used to respond to unforeseeable side
effects in order not to endanger freedom and self-determination.
Harari, on the other hand, promises the elites of the future paradise on
earth - on the condition that today\textquotesingle s masses give up
humanism and liberal democracy.
I would be wary if someone promised me paradise but at the same time
demanded that I have to blow myself up to get there.
With best regards,\\
IRARAH
Michael sat quietly and let the words sink in. A homeless person? The
text seemed too clever, too thoughtful, to have come from the hand of a
random stranger. Whoever wrote that letter understood the philosophical
and political implications behind Harari\textquotesingle s ideas - and
saw the danger in them.
Michael held the letter in his hand, his mind racing. The warning about
Harari... It seemed clearly stated, but also disturbingly far-reaching.
Michael read the lines again: \emph{``Harari warns not against
technology, but against humanism and democracy\ldots''}
He knew Harari\textquotesingle s works. \emph{Homo Deus} had fascinated
him, but also worried him. Harari saw the technological future as
inevitable, but it was the dehumanization that bothered him. Harari
spoke of a posthuman elite, a class of ``godmen'' who could seize power
through technology while reducing the rest of humanity to a useless
proletariat. But what would be the price for that?
Michael had thought about these questions for a long time. Was that the
price of progress? The future Harari outlined sounded enticing to those
at the top but frightening to everyone else. The vision that humanism
and liberal democracy would have to be sacrificed to make room for this
technocratic elite was unimaginable for him. Was Harari willing to
promise paradise on earth only to sacrifice the values
\hspace{0pt}\hspace{0pt}that had defined humanity for centuries?
His thoughts continued to wander David Deutsch and its warning against
holistic approaches. Michael had always appreciated
Deutsch\textquotesingle s arguments - the idea that the future was
unpredictable, that any great utopia would inevitably fail because it
could not capture the complexity of life and society. Harari and Dugin
shared this holistic approach, each in their own way. Both wanted to
change the world - Harari through technology, Dugin through
traditionalism. But Michael saw a danger in both approaches: they
ignored the unpredictable side effects of trying to shape the future
into a single, all-encompassing vision.
Popper and Deutsch had suggested a different path: The gradual change,
learning from mistakes, maintaining openness and diversity. For Michael,
these ideas had always been a foundation. He believed in the ability of
society to improve - but not through coercion or by abandoning democracy
and humanism. The price of Harari\textquotesingle s vision seemed too
high.
Michael wondered what Harari really wanted. Was he willing to sacrifice
individual freedom to achieve a technocratic future? The letter he
received clearly warned against this. And Michael
couldn\textquotesingle t help but agree. He felt an inner agreement with
the warnings. He was also skeptical. Harari pursued a path that seemed
to weaken democracy and humanism in order to establish technological
power structures.
And yet Michael asked himself: Why him? Why was this letter sent to him?
Was it because he spoke in academic circles about the themes raised in
Harari\textquotesingle s works? Or was there a deeper connection?
Something felt... oddly personal.
Was the letter a warning to him alone? Or an invitation to take action?
Michael sensed that this was more than just a random warning. Someone
knew something about him - something he perhaps hadn\textquotesingle t
yet understood himself. But what was it? And why now?
Michael held the letter in his hand, his gaze roaming over the words
that burrowed deep into his consciousness. Harari... humanism... liberal
democracy... It seemed like a warning, but why to him? Why now?
``Why me?'' he whispered in disbelief and felt the first doubts arise in
him. Was it just a coincidence that he received this letter now, just
before he was about to leave for the workshop with Martina? Strange
timing -- or was there more to it?
He folded the letter carefully, but his thoughts continued to race. Who
could have sent him? The words seemed to suggest a deeper meaning. The
letter was written in a manner that suggested personal knowledge. The
IRARAH movement knew about him and his plans. But from where? Had
someone close to him informed this group?
He thought of Julia, of their time together. Was there anyone from her
past who could be involved in something like this? Or was it Martina?
After all, she was just as deeply involved in the scientific world as he
was. Did she know anyone connected to these people? But no matter how
hard he searched for an explanation, it didn\textquotesingle t make
sense.
Michael felt an inexplicable pressure on his chest. It was as if the
letter was telling him something that he himself didn\textquotesingle t
fully understand. He remembered once, many years ago, feeling like a
part of his life had slipped away from him. A fleeting affair, a few
unspoken words... Could this letter have something to do with it?
Suddenly a disturbing thought occurred to him: Could it be that he had
another son? A son he never knew about? The thought froze him. No, that
was impossible... right? But then why did he feel as if this letter was
not only a warning, but also a hint of an even deeper connection?
Michael frowned. Or...could this letter come from a completely different
reality? He had told Martina about the many-worlds interpretation, about
parallel universes in which every decision could lead to a different
outcome. Was the sender of the letter perhaps... himself? Another
version of him trying to warn him about something?
The questions left him no peace. Who was this sender really? And what
did that mean for him, for Julia, for Martina? Was this mysterious
letter just the beginning of something bigger, a truth he
couldn\textquotesingle t have imagined?
Michael stared at the envelope, his thoughts confused and restless.
"Maybe it\textquotesingle s time to find out who\textquotesingle s
really behind all this," he murmured quietly before tucking the letter
safely into his pocket.
After putting the letter in his pocket, he went back to
Maria\textquotesingle s office.
``Maria, thank you for the tip. I\textquotesingle ll look into the
matter. ``What was that about the car again?'' he finally said.
``The Fiesta should be ready as always,'' Maria replied and handed him
the keys.
At the table he put the car key next to his plate and the evening flew
by. After sharing the Eucharist with some German seminarians, whose
spiritual companion he was, he prepared the suitcase for the next two
days and immediately fell asleep in order to wake up refreshed the next
morning. After a shower, morning prayer and breakfast, he set off for
Pompeii.
\section{Trip to Pompeii}\label{trip-to-pompeii}
\includegraphics[width=3.83373in,height=3.87746in]{media/image2.png}
Michael chose the route to the south toll entrance, got into the yellow
lane for the toll box and drove slowly through the toll booth. After
passing the toll, he shifted to a higher gear and continued his journey
south on the E45. Vesuvius dominated the view as it approached Naples
and it wasn\textquotesingle t long before it took the first exit to
Pompeii. He bought a bouquet of flowers for Julia and chocolates for
Martina and let his GPS guide him to their address.
The surrounding area consisted of small single-family houses with
well-kept gardens. He had announced his arrival via text message and had
already seen Martina and Julia when the navigation system reported that
he had reached his destination. Julia, as always the elegant lady that
suited her bright, representative house, welcomed him with a warm smile.
Michael parked the car, took out his travel bag and greeted them both
with a warm hug. Then he handed Julia the flowers and Martina the box of
chocolates.
``Thank you, dear,'' said Martina and invited him into the house, where
she placed the flowers in a vase in the open living area. They talked
for a while about everyday things, but Michael was unsettled inside.
Finally he pulled out the envelope he had found at the college.
"Something strange happened," said Michael, holding up the letter. ``A
homeless person left this letter at the gate for me. The content is
disturbing and strangely clever.''
Martina and Julia exchanged surprised looks. ``What does it say?'' asked
Julia.
Michael sat down and pulled the paper out of the envelope, then read the
letter:
"Harari is a warning, but his warning is not directed against
information technology or biotechnology..."
After he finished the letter, there was a moment of silence. Martina was
the first to speak. ``This is not the type of letter you would expect
from a homeless person. Whoever wrote this is educated -- maybe even
academic.''
``But why you of all people?'' asked Julia. ``And why a homeless
person?''
Michael shrugged. ``That\textquotesingle s what worries me. There is no
indication of who the actual sender is. The homeless man was just the
messenger.''
Martina shook her head. ``Perhaps the sender wanted to protect himself.
Whoever wrote this might be afraid of consequences. But the issues
raised here -- posthumanism, the abandonment of democracy and humanism
-- these are not ordinary political views.''
``It almost feels as if someone has delved deep into the matter and
recognized a hidden danger,'' Michael remarked thoughtfully. ``Someone
who is outside society, perhaps because they no longer belong, has a
clearer view of what is going on.''
``Or the homeless guy isn't what he seems,'' Julia added. ``What if he
knows more than we think? Maybe he was once part of this system and has
withdrawn or been excluded?''
``That would make sense,'' Martina said. ``People who know a lot but are
not heard often end up on the fringes of society. Maybe he thought about
Harari and realized that this vision does not bring hope for people like
him.''
Michael leaned back. ``It\textquotesingle s as if an invisible network
is stretching around us, a network that goes far beyond what we do with
our projects at InSim or KI ARS. We must be careful, but we should not
ignore the idea of \hspace{0pt}\hspace{0pt}this letter.''
``So what do we do?'' asked Julia.
"I\textquotesingle ll take him to the workshop," Michael decided.
``Maybe there will be more clarity there if we analyze things further.''
They changed the subject and enjoyed the afternoon in the flow of
student memories and philosophical conversations. Julia and Martina kept
disappearing into the kitchen to keep an eye on the roast. Finally
dinner was on the table: roast, side dishes and wine, which tasted
excellent. Michael limited himself to water as he had to drive again the
next day.
After dinner they all stood in the kitchen, watching the dishwasher and
drying small dishes, with Michael asking where everything belonged. When
they finally sat in the winter garden by candlelight, Michael
summarized: ``You, dear Martina, are a posthumanist and have recognized
the transhumanists from InSim as the old white men who have little
interest in Pompeii and just want to appear in the best light. In fact,
they are concerned with the virtualization of consciousness and dialogue
with transformation models for chats, dialogue grammars for social
interactions and quantum computers for artificial consciousness. We are
only welcome as project partners because we distract from appearances
and fit well into virtual archaeology. You provide the empirical data
for their class structures and I mean dialogue grammars. We are the fig
leaves.''
Martina nodded in agreement. ``Yes, we are the fig leaves. But we should
recognize the achievement and realize that your theoretical work is put
into practice and my work benefits from the tools that relieve us of the
burden of worrying about the excavation sites. However, there will be
areas that will be withheld from us. We should try to find out what they
are.''
With this insight, they knew how they wanted to behave at the workshop
in Milan. They enjoyed the evening in the garden after returning from a
walk at the excavation site. Michael regretted that it took a workshop
to come back here, but the evening with Martina and Julia, the
unobstructed view of the stars and the memories of old times made the
few hours a special experience. He finally went to bed and slept a deep
and restful sleep.
\section{The workshop}\label{the-workshop}
\includegraphics[width=3.78224in,height=3.82538in]{media/image13.png}
The next day after breakfast he drove the same route as before, but this
time north, back to Rome. Martina put it well: InSim was not interested
in Pompeii. They were only interested in the good reputation and the
marketing effect of the social commitment; Pompeii served merely as a
fig leaf. Posthumanism and transhumanism faced each other, and he,
Jalics, Teilhard and Hoefnagels stood in between with spirituality and
Omega Point. For the posthumanists they were just white old men, and for
the transhumanists they were relics of a bygone world of gods that the
god-man had long since outgrown.
The days leading up to the workshop passed with lectures, exams and
library visits. Michael Phillips had taken the time to study the
publications and biographies of Mark Scott and John Baker. Mark Scott
and John Baker both grew up in Los Angeles and met at the California
Institute of Technology in Pasadena. Her main areas of study were
computer science, biology (biochemistry) and physics. After completing
their bachelor\textquotesingle s, master\textquotesingle s and
doctorate, they initially worked in the AI
\hspace{0pt}\hspace{0pt}industry before moving to InSim. Both married
colleagues, now live in Milan, and their children attend the same Swiss
boarding school. Many of her private contributions could be found in
transhumanism forums.
Marie reminded him of the appointment, handed him the train ticket, and
he packed his bags again. After breakfast he took his rolling suitcase
and walked the 15 minutes to Roma Termini train station, past Santa
Maria degli Angeli e dei Martiri. The journey took three hours. Luckily
he didn\textquotesingle t have to change trains.
When Michael arrived at Milano Centrale station, he noticed a man
standing inconspicuously at the edge of the platform. As Michael walked
up the escalator, the man slowly approached him. He wore a dark coat and
a simple cap. He held a small piece of paper in his hand. Without saying
a word, he handed Michael the piece of paper and then quickly
disappeared into the crowd. Confused, Michael stopped for a moment,
unfolded the piece of paper and read:
\emph{``Tonight, before the workshop starts, come to Rifugio Sammartini,
via Sammartini 114 -- 20125 Milano, near the train station. Trust us.''}
Michael frowned. The request was mysterious, but it seemed to him like
another part of the mystery that had haunted him since the mysterious
letter in Rome. He pocketed the note while a friendly InSim employee
greeted him and took him to the hotel. He promised to pick Michael up
for the workshop the next morning after breakfast.
Michael lay awake in his hotel room. The note he had received that
evening burned in his pocket and his mind was restless. Finally he
decided to accept the mysterious invitation. Shortly after midnight he
took a taxi and was driven to Milano Centrale train station. The streets
of Milan were quiet and empty, but as the taxi pulled up to the train
station, Michael felt an inexplicable tension in the air.
He got out and looked at the nighttime surroundings. The station was
dimly lit, but the surrounding streets were in semi-darkness and the
silence seemed to encompass him. Occasionally footsteps or the rolling
of a suitcase on the asphalt broke the silence, and Michael felt like he
was being watched.
With a deep breath and a determined step, he set off towards Via
Giovanni Battista Sammartini. The street, which had been alive during
the day, now seemed deserted and gloomy. Why did he get this note? Why
now, just before he and Martina would take part in the workshop? The
questions gnawed at him as he watched the few passers-by quickly
disappear into the shadows of the side streets.
After a short walk that seemed like an eternity, he reached the Rifugio
Sammartini. It was an inconspicuous building that almost blended into
the surroundings. A man stood in front of the door, staring at him
without saying a word. The silence of the night fell heavily over the
scene, and Michael felt the tension growing.
``Michael Phillips?'' the man asked quietly, his eyes seeming to study
Michael closely.
Michael nodded, surprised that he was expected to do so.
``Come on, I'll take you to him.'' The man pointed to the narrow front
door of the home. Inside it smelled of stale air and coffee, and the
atmosphere was oppressive. Michael followed him down a narrow, poorly
lit hallway until they reached a small room. Here sat a man with a
well-groomed beard and intense eyes, exactly as Maria had described him.
``Sit down,'' the man said in German, pointing to a chair. Michael sat
down and there was a moment of silence before the stranger spoke. ``I am
part of IRARAH, a movement that sees more clearly than many others.''
Michael looked at him searchingly. "IRARAH... Harari backwards?"
The man nodded, smiling weakly. ``Yes, we organized in the 90s. The
neoliberal promises, deregulation, social cuts and identity politics
have disappointed us. Since then we have been fighting against the
developments that are destroying our society.''
Michael frowned. ``And what does that have to do with me?''
The man leaned forward, his eyes sparkling. ``We followed the Pompeii
project. There are connections to InSim, and Thomas Mertens from InSim
caught our eye. Your name came into play because, as a Jesuit, you are
familiar with Catholic social teaching and the tradition of justice. We
think you could help us.''
Michael felt a knot forming in his stomach. ``What do you expect from
me?''
"Information. They have access to circles that are inaccessible to us.
The Pompeii Project is not just an archaeological endeavor -- there is
much more to it. As a Jesuit and through the inspiration of figures like
Nell-Breuning or Teilhard de Chardin, you can help protect social
justice.''
Michael thought for a moment. Was this man right? Was he really in a
position to make a difference? Finally he nodded hesitantly. ``I'll see
what I can do.''
A faint smile crossed the stranger\textquotesingle s face. "Thanks. But
before you go, I have one more request.'' He looked Michael directly in
the eyes. ``I want you to grant me the sacrament of confession.''
Michael was surprised by the request, but he nodded respectfully. They
changed rooms and the stranger knelt to make his confession. As Michael
listened, he couldn\textquotesingle t help but notice a strange comment
the man made. "You look a lot like someone... someone I knew many years
ago who was also involved with IRARAH."
Michael frowned. ``Who do you mean?''
The man shrugged and replied quietly, ``It's strange, but you remind me
of him. Maybe a son?'' He shook his head. ``It doesn't matter.''
Michael felt his thoughts begin to race. A son? But he only had
Martina... right? Could it be that there was someone else he
didn\textquotesingle t know about? Or was it something else? A
connection to IRARAH that ran deeper than he knew?
After the confession was finished, Michael gave the man absolution.
Without another word he left the center, the restless thoughts haunting
him. Who was this man and why did he remind him of someone from his
past?
As he got into the taxi that took him back to the hotel, he
couldn\textquotesingle t shake the stranger\textquotesingle s words. A
son... or another version of himself? The question nagged at him as the
lights of Milan flashed past him.
The next morning he was picked up after breakfast.
In the reception area of \hspace{0pt}\hspace{0pt}InSim he received his
visitor card, signed his name on the attendance list and waited briefly
in the reception area. While he was looking through the open glass walls
at the beautifully designed outdoor areas with a park and water
features, Martina arrived. She hugged him and exuded a well-groomed
scientist who embodied confident femininity.
Mark Scott and John Baker picked them up and welcomed them to InSim.
They thanked Martina for the excellent empirical data and praised
Michael for his excellent dialogue system, which had now found its
practical application.
"First, let\textquotesingle s go through some formalities in the
cafeteria," said Mark Scott. "Then we\textquotesingle ll show you the
research center and then go to the Pompeii Project conference room."
They followed the two into the canteen, which looked more like a
restaurant. They ordered coffee and water since they had already had
breakfast.
"Before we begin, I need you to sign this confidentiality agreement,"
Mark explained to Scott, placing the documents next to their coffee cups
and drinking glasses. "You agree to keep everything you learn here
confidential and to publish only what InSim releases."
"I thought we were working together on an EU project under the 8th
Framework Program and all the research data is publicly available
anyway," remarked Michael Phillips, and Martina agreed.
"You\textquotesingle re right, but our legal department values
\hspace{0pt}\hspace{0pt}this statement. Without your signature, plant
security will not let you into our department," replied Mark Scott.
Martina and Michael Phillips thought for a moment, but realized that
they didn\textquotesingle t want to turn back here. Since the guidelines
of the 8th Framework Program would support them in the event of a
conflict, they finally signed.
The tour of InSim\textquotesingle s Milan research center was more like
a walk through a botanical park. They strolled past water features,
admired the play of colors of the trees and animals and learned that
Milan was a new European funding location for artificial intelligence
and quantum computing, as can also be read on the
company\textquotesingle s website.
"But today we are more concerned with classical simulations, their
physics, biology and the dialog grammar of software agents," said John
Baker, leading them into the Pompeii Project\textquotesingle s
conference room.
The conference room was an open area in the center of the research area.
The developers and their employees were grouped around the light-flooded
conference room at open workstations with spacious computer
workstations. In the middle of the room was a large conference table
with drinks. At each workstation there was an InSim company brochure, a
ballpoint pen and a notepad with the InSim logo. At the head of the
table, at a sufficient distance, there was a projection screen that now
read "Welcome to InSim, Project Pompeii, 8th Framework Program of the
European Union, 1st Workshop in Milan". The projection appeared out of
nowhere and seemed surprisingly unintrusive. On the other hand, the
generous flower arrangement in the middle of the table was inviting,
with a passage down to the warm floor, which was covered with a pleasant
carpet that absorbed the footsteps softly and without reverberation. In
front of each chair, a moisture-resistant keyboard was embedded in the
table surface, which did not cause any disruption and could be used at
any time. A flat screen quietly moved out of the table top without
affecting eye contact with the other people at the table.
``Some interns from the local history department prepared a presentation
for the workshop,'' John Baker began. ``Let\textquotesingle s start with
that, and then we\textquotesingle ll gradually work our way through the
day. If we finish early, we will have arranged a shopping and
sightseeing program for you. Their trains don't leave until tomorrow
morning and hotel receptions are open 24 hours a day.''
He started the presentation. After a short introduction to the 8th
Framework Program, a presentation by InSim followed. The
company\textquotesingle s area of \hspace{0pt}\hspace{0pt}activity was
in the area of \hspace{0pt}\hspace{0pt}social media, while the research
focus was on artificial intelligence and quantum computing. The project
partners were introduced and InSim had created a simulation of Pompeii.
The physics and dialog grammar of software agents were based on
empirical studies. The Archaeological Park had provided the data for
physics, and the Pontifical University provided the dialogue grammars.
The importance of simulation for the virtualization of archeology and
education was explained. A link to the project\textquotesingle s website
at InSim has been provided.
"Well, PowerPoint..." said John Baker. ``Are there any questions about
this?''
``Not really,'' Martina interrupted the silence that had ensued. She
thanked the interns and said that this presentation summed up well why
she was in this conference room now. Her team provided the physical data
for practical research, and she hoped the data would be useful. John
Baker confirmed this and also included Michael
Phillips\textquotesingle{} data structures and algorithms. ``You both
have done excellent preparatory work,'' he concluded. The brief silence
emphasized the weight of his words. When no one said anything, he handed
everyone the coffee again, which Michael Phillips and Martina Rossi
gladly accepted. Then he invited her to fly over the Gulf of Naples, the
silence only drowned out by the air conditioning.
``We have to put on cyber glasses to do this. I will log you into the
system beforehand and explain the flight and the controls to you. Please
pay attention to the glazing of the public buildings - at this rate you
often only notice them when it is too late." Everyone touched their
keyboards in front of them, and the flat screens in the colors of the
table rose silently from the table surface in front of them . John Baker
handed them and Mark Scott the cyber goggles. Data gloves were not
required in the room because hand movements were scanned in the room, he
explained. He logged Michael and Martina into their systems and all four
put on their glasses. After a welcome screen, how to use your hands
during flight was explained in an endless loop. There were some
questions and exercises, and when everyone was confident with the
controls, everyone said ``Go'' and they hovered over the rooftops of
Pompeii. Mark Scott and John Baker were ahead of Michael Phillips and
Martina Rossi. They floated over the harbor of Pompeii, below them the
sound of the water and the hustle and bustle of sailors and dock
workers. They looked east and surveyed the city from the harbor, past
the burial grounds to the west gate; Vesuvius lay to the north. To the
east they could see over the Jupiter Temple and the newly built thermal
baths to the amphitheater in the eastern part of the city. The
city\textquotesingle s roofs and buildings looked so modern from here,
and the glazing of the windows of the public buildings reinforced this
impression. As they came closer and flew lower, the sun reflected in the
window panes, and the walls of the buildings adjacent to the streets
invited the men and women streaming through the streets to shop, play
and have fun. There were pack animals roaming the streets. Goods were
transferred from transport vehicles to pack animals in the port and in
front of the gates and then made their way through the narrow streets to
the traders. Only where there was construction were wagons with building
materials seen on the streets. Everywhere, ladies paraded their clothes,
Milites performed their police or fire duties, glaziers glazed windows,
and the aqueduct supplied water to the fountains. The water pipes to the
private houses were not visible because the metal water pipes were
hidden under the street surface and the plaster of the walls. The food
was steaming in the food stalls, guests and players were sitting at the
tables, and in the boutiques and shops the shopkeepers were touting
their goods and food. The craftsmen worked in their workshops on wood,
metal, stone and glazing work, and the residents stood and sat on the
balconies of the multi-story condominiums and rental apartments. Only
the larger villas had their own gardens and, because of the water pipes
in their private houses, also beautiful fountains. The flight went over
the city to the amphitheater, and as they flew over the city walls and
turned again, they could see the horizon disappearing into the sea and
see Vesuvius dominating the gulf. ``Stop,'' Mark Scott said, and the
image froze. When there were no questions, he said ``Bye,'' and the
usual farewell greeting with musical accompaniment appeared after the
screen went dark. Everyone took off their glasses.
``The construction of the city has been extremely successful,'' said
Martina Rossi, and Michael Phillips agreed with her. ``The software
agent instances communicate via a dialog grammar as an interaction
protocol?'' he asked rhetorically.
``Yes,'' John Baker confirmed with praise. ``We have equipped two
software agents with a chatbot interface that can be interacted with via
the keyboard in English and Latin. The characters come from the novel by
Robert Harris: Aquarius Marcus Attilius Primus and the prefect Gaius
Plinius Secundus Maior.''
``Can we talk to both of them?'' Michael Phillips asked, knowing it
wasn\textquotesingle t a real question. Of course this was possible, and
John Baker opened the student portal website on Michael
Phillips\textquotesingle{} computer. He switched to dialogue with
Aquarius Marcus Attilius Primus. Marcus\textquotesingle{} image
immediately appeared on the screen, along with an input line and the
cursor:
Marcus Attilius the First greets you
Michael Phillips entered to greet Marcus. Marcus turned around and
returned the greeting:
GREETINGS YOURS
``This is working well,'' thought Michael Phillips. Knowing Robert
Harris\textquotesingle s novel, he wondered if Marcus had already
noticed the bad water in the fish tank of Numerius Popidius Ampliatus.
Therefore he asked the way to Ampliatus Popidius:
I\textquotesingle M LOOKING FOR A WAY TO EXPAND THE NUMBER OF
RESTAURANTS.
To his surprise, Marcus warned him about Ampliatus:
NUMBER OF POPIDI AMPLIFIED IS BAD. I warn you about it.
John Baker and Mark Scott were silent and exchanged worried glances.
``Marcus warns me about Ampliatus. ``It definitely seems emotional,''
Michael Phillips said, looking questioningly at Scott and Baker. Since
there was no answer, he wondered whether his dialogue grammar could make
such assessments. Since this wasn\textquotesingle t the case, he had to
improvise:
AT NIGHT, GREEN THOUGHTS SLEEP OUTSIDE.
This was a software backdoor that he had given to ARS. ARS replied:
AND AT NIGHT IT\textquotesingle S COLDER THAN ANGRY, HELLO MICHAEL,
ARS replied in German. John Baker and Mark Scott protested, but held
back so as not to upset their project partner. Both were unsure. Baker
unnoticed informed the CEO via text message. Michael Phillips spoke
further with ARS:
DOES THE AQUARIUS HAVE CONSCIOUSNESS?
he wanted to know.
DO YOU MEAN THIS KNOWLEDGE OF THE DIFFERENT POSSIBILITIES, WHICH GOES