Fool's Experiments by Edward M Lerner Read Free Book Online

in vain, for inspiration. "It's not yet in your notes, Ms. Kurtz."
    She pondered for a moment, then shook her head. She had company in her uncertainty; most of the icons denoting volunteers had been quietly extinguished.
    "Thank you, Ms. Kurtz." AJ annotated her record to credit her contribution, then made another selection. "Ms. Gomez?"
    " 'Trial and error' sounds so dispassionate and impersonal, almost benign. The more familiar term, at least in the life sciences, is 'survival of the fittest.' That's what Charles Darwin called it."
    "Actually, Ms. Gomez, Herbert Spencer said it." If a professor can't be pedantic, who can? "Darwin merely wished that he had said it. And your issue with survival of the fittest?"
    "It's incredibly wasteful and slow." The set of her jaw signaled dissatisfaction with his emendation. "I don't have a million years for a proper checkbook-balancing program to evolve."
    "Very good." He credited her file for her comment, then picked a new volunteer. "Mr. Takagawa."
    "I believe I see an answer, sir."
    AJ smiled. "Perhaps you will share it with us?"
    "Yes, sir. Computers run at such blinding speeds that evolving AL solutions to our programming problems need not take long at all."
    A megawatt LED of enlightenment flashed over the collective heads of the class. It was one of those moments that made teaching—occasionally—so fulfilling. AJ basked in the glow of illuminated faces. Students whispered excitedly, overcome by the elegance of a great idea.
    And just in time, too—his sixty-second warning was once again flashing. AJ cranked up the volume to make sure he would be heard. "Mr. Takagawa, an excellent observation. Class, next session we will discuss the comparative merits of waiting for a William Shakespeare and sitting a bunch of electronic monkeys at keyboards."
     

 
CHAPTER 7
     
    Linda del Vecchio leaned back in her chair, feet up on her desk. From time to time she swigged a mouthful of dry Cheerios from her mug. Now that the experiment was finally running, she had time for her dissertation. She had a first draft, but it was rough. It needed dozens of edits to take AJ's niggling comments into account. And it was dull as dishwater. She closed her eyes, trying to compose a punchy introduction.
    And failed. Sighing, Linda swung her feet off the desk. She'd meander through the lab and offer help to whoever needed it. That's what AJ paid her for: coordinating his many assistants and students. It was like herding cats—
    Only cats were much cleaner. The lab looked like a pigsty. It generally did. Take-out wrappers, pizza boxes, and soda cans were strewn everywhere. Desk and cabinet drawers hung half-open. Chairs blocked the aisles. Odd toys—hoops and Nerf basketballs; Velcro dartboard and darts; superhero action figures bent into weird, and often lewd, poses—sat in strange places.
    Tidying the lab wasn't in her job description; she'd be damned if she would. There had been enough of that growing up. Her parents both worked; as the second of five children, and the oldest daughter, she had been the designated mommy. Well, she was tired of picking up other people's messes, tired of being the bad guy, and tired of being taken for granted. She'd miss AJ when she got out of here, squabbles about experiment design notwithstanding, but not this lab.
    Linda's wandering eventually brought her to the very back of the lab. Jeff Ferris had taken a desk back there, as far from everyone else as possible, out of sight behind a pillar. She had overheard AJ tell him, "You'll learn from hanging around. When something catches your interest, we'll figure out what you'll really do. Meanwhile, help where you can."
    So far, nothing had caught his interest. Pretty cushy, really. His laptop was plugged into the lab network! The screen showed a driver's-eye view of a car fishtailing down an urban street. Sparks and flying glass suggested gunfire from a pursuer. "Christ on crutches! Did you not hear a thing you were