I met Alf in junior year. He was the best-looking guy on campus and he was brilliant and wickedly funny. He was also prone to weird and unusual statements. His given name was Alfredo Calderone but I called him Alf because sometimes he seemed almost alien.
I'm Billie Christian. Just Billie, B I L L I E, no middle name. My parents were southern born and liked to keep things simple. It sometimes gives me problems on government forms when the bureaucrats insist that Billie is a nickname and demand to know my full name. The absence of a middle name is also an issue for some, causing them the put "NMN," no middle name, in the boxes on their forms. It's not unusual for me to get mail addressed to Mr. William Nmn Christian.
As I said, Alf and I met in junior year. We quickly discovered we both had a passion for computers and sex. We were crazy about trying to push the university computers to perform the most outlandish things. We spent hours together theorizing and designing algorithms that were beyond the ability of many others to understand and, when not scratching out programs, fucking each other's brains out. Both Alf and I were adventurous and inventive in suggesting sex in interesting positions and locations, many not so private. It worked well for us. We established a number of firsts and we hadn't been caught yet. So far, our escapades included only us but we both realized that including others in the future was more of a probability than a possibility.
Predictably, we became fascinated by Artificial Intelligence. We were impressed by what the AI systems could do. We instantly understood the power AI had to do good and, simultaneously, the potential to do great harm. We wondered if it was possible to create a safe AI system, one that had all the positive features without the ability to use its knowledge for harm.
We worked tirelessly to understand AI, its capabilities and limitations. We moved in together after graduation and, about a month later, had a working system that Alf labeled "SArtI" for Safe Artificial Intelligence.
We continued to work on SArtI, discovering that it was capable of much more than we originally thought. By fall, we had a system with outstanding analytical abilities but unable to use its results to implement any of its recommendations. It was limited to only presenting its conclusions to humans to implement. It hadn't been easy since SArtI could generate new software based on its conclusions and assumptions. We managed to keep it under control by implementing an infinitely recursive feedback loop that subjected its own code to analysis by SArtl itself and eliminating anything that came close to breaking Isaac Asimov's three rules of robotics as modified by Professor Frank Pasquale.
We were delighted with our creation and played with it endlessly. We mentioned SArtI to Conor Murray, an Irish graduate student, at an annual international technology conference and demonstrated it one evening. Two weeks later, Conor called. He wanted us to travel to Dublin and demonstrate our system to a corporate friend of his. He was reticent to give us more information but told us that the trip would be fully funded by his friend.
We were initially hesitant to fly ten hours to Dublin with such little information but, in the end, we decided, "what the hell, why not." Neither of us had been to Ireland before and the trip might just be a good change for both of us. We also wondered if sex in Ireland would be different than sex in San Francisco.
The next several days were spent in obtaining rushed passports and understanding the requirements to visit Ireland.
We arrived in Dublin around noon on a Tuesday. The flight had been uneventful in business class seats so comfortable and private that we had difficulty holding hands even though the seats were next to each other. Several times during the flight, Alf wondered if we could somehow manage to join the mile high club. I agreed with his proposition but was unable to imagine a solution that wouldn't threaten our record of uninterrupted couplings.
Conor met us at the airport and, somehow, managed to get us and our luggage into Ireland without either passport or baggage checks. He ushered us into a black SUV limo while a uniformed chauffer loaded our luggage in the boot. We had many questions for Conor but he was unwilling to answer. He only told us that our system had generated huge interest and his friend was anxious to meet us and SArtI.
The chauffer dropped us at the Hyatt on Dean Street. Conor introduced us to the Concierge, who immediately showed us to our room, by passing the registration desk. Conor left us in the lobby telling us to have a restful afternoon since tomorrow would be a full day and he would phone us in the morning to tell us where to meet for an early breakfast.
The room was a suite with an amazing view of the city and a separate sitting area, bedroom and marble bathroom. Alone in the room, Alf looked at me, looked at the bed and asked a silent question. I responded by stripping off my clothes and heading for the bed. The sex was better than usual and we agreed that the environment does make a difference. After the second round of sex, we showered, dressed and began to search for a restaurant for an early dinner.
We had dinner in the hotel restaurant where the food was excellent and the Guinness spectacular, room temperature and hearty.
After dinner, we walked to St. Patrick's Cathedral. The impressive thirteenth century architecture was incredible and the interior quiet and impressive with the early evening light shining through the stained-glass windows. We explored a number of nooks with reasonable privacy that might provide venues for risky sex but decided against it. We'd never had sex in a sacred environment and St. Pat's wasn't the time to change it.
We wandered back to our room where we reviewed our preparations for tomorrow's presentations and jumped into bed again before taking a shower together in the spacious bathroom. Back in bed we made love again before falling asleep. We slept soundly, only interrupted once during the night for another tryst.
Alf was in the bathroom when the phone rang at seven in the morning. It was Conor who told me that the limo would meet us at the front door at eight and to bring anything we would need for the rest of the day since we wouldn't be returning to the hotel until sometime after dinner.
Breakfast was at a private club in a center city building that had to be older than the Cathedral. Conor introduced us to Gorge Donohue, a name given him by his Spanish mother and Irish father. Gorge represented an Irish company that worked in the background providing services to private and public companies and government agencies without the resources to provide for themselves. They were intrigued by the possibilities presented by AI but, like us, concerned by the potential use of AI for less than honorable purposes. SArtI represented a solution that would provide all the benefits of AI analysis and the safety of only human implemented solutions.
By lunch we had reached an agreement for Gorge's use of our system that maintained the proprietary nature of the system for us and all the benefits of use by Gorge. We had dinner at another private club and returned to our suite just before sunset at nine pm.
We left Dublin after noon on Friday and were back in San Francisco by four pm with a one-year, renewable contract to use our software, monthly return trips to Dublin to evaluate the use of the system, provide updates as necessary and more money than we ever thought possible.
We invested the money against the possibility that something would endanger the contract and we would have to return some to the money. We spent the next month improving the end user interface, improving the documentation and responding to requests from Gorge.
A month later, we were on our way back to Dublin. Same airport, same airline, same flight, same business class seats and, apparently, same flight crew. Two hours after takeoff, refreshments had been served, the window shades were drawn and the lights dimmed. Alf leaned over to me and whispered, "Any thoughts about how we could join the mile high club?"
While I was pondering his question, one of the flight attendants came by our seats. She squatted down next to my seat. She was blonde, attractive, about our age and well-built with breasts that called for attention. Alf noticed and she had both of our attentions.
"Hi," she said softly so the conversation was limited to only our vicinity. "I'm Melissa and, if I'm not mistaken, you're Billie and Alfredo."
"We are," I whispered. "But just Alf will do."
"You look pensive, like something is bothering you," Melissa stated.
"I'm thinking of possibilities," I answered. "But I didn't know it was so evident."
"I've seen that look before," Melissa said.
"Really? Where?" I asked.
"On other young couples," she told me.
"Okay," I conceded. "What am I thinking about?"
"You're wondering how you might become members of the mile high club," Melissa stated.
I was shocked. Alf was amused. "How on earth did you come to that conclusion?" I asked.
"Like I said, I've seen that look before," she responded.
"So what if I am?" I asked.
"I may have a solution for you," Melissa told me.
"Not the lavatory," I said. "Not nearly enough room."
"No. Not the lavatory," she said. "We have somewhat private sleeping quarters for the crew downstairs. I find that they're suitable for some activities other than sleeping."
"I'm listening," I told her. Alf was alert.
"We have a second flight crew on this flight. I'm off duty in about three hours. You can use some of my time in the crew quarters."
"It that possible?" I asked.
"It wouldn't be the first time," Melissa said. "I'll run interference for you and keep the space unoccupied so you can have complete privacy."
Alf was bouncing in his seat. I looked at him and didn't need to ask. "That would be more than kind," I told her.
"I have only one request," said Melissa.
"Okay," I said.
"That when you're done, you come back to your seat and leave Alf downstairs," Melissa suggested.
"For what reason?" I asked already guessing her intent.
"It is my time in the crew quarters," Melissa smiled.
