(Feb., 2000)
Live Forever: Uploading the Human Brain
By Raymond Kurzweil, Ph.D.
Thought to Implant 4: OnNet, please.
Hundreds of shimmering thumbnail images mist into view,
spread fairly evenly across the entire field of pseudovision.
Thought: Zoom upper left, higher, into Winston's image.
Transmit: It's Nellie. Let's connect and chat over croissants.
Rue des Enfants, Paris in the spring, our favorite table, yes?
Four-second pause.
Background thought: Damn it. What's taking him so long?
Receive: I'm here, ma chęre, I'm here! Let's do it!
The thumbnail field mists away, and a café scene swirls into
place. Scent of honeysuckle. Paté. Wine. Light breeze. Nellie
is seated at a quaint table with a plain white tablecloth. An
image of Winston looking 20 and buff mists in across from her.
Message thumbnails occasionally blink against the sky.
Winston: It's so good to see you again, ma chęre! It's been
months! And what a gorgeous choice of bodies! The eyes are
a dead giveaway, though. You always pick those raspberry
eyes. Trés bold, Nellita. So what's the occasion? Part of me is
in the middle of a business meeting in Chicago, so I can't dally.
Nellie: Why do you always put on that muscleman body,
Winston? You know how much I like your real one. Winston
morphs into a man in his early 50s, still overly muscular.
Winston: (laughing) My real body? How droll! No one but my
neurotechnician has seen it for years! Believe me, that's not
what you want. I can do much better! He fans rapidly through a
thousand images, and Nellie grimaces.
Nellie: Damn it! You're just one of Winston's MI's! Where is the
real Winston? I know I used the right connection!
Winston: Nellie, I'm sorry to have to tell you this. There was a
transporter accident a few weeks ago in Evanston, and,
well, I'm lucky they got to me in time for the full upload. I'm all of
Winston that's left. The body's gone.
When Nellie contacts her friend Winston through the Internet
connection in her brain, he is already, biologically speaking,
dead. It is his electronic mind double, a virtual reality twin, that
greets Nellie in their virtual Parisian café. What's surprising
here is not so much the notion that human minds may someday
live on inside computers after their bodies have expired. It's the
fact that this vignette is closer at hand than most people
realize. Within 30 years, the minds in those computers may just
be our own.
The history of technology has shown over and over that as one
mode of technology exhausts its potential, a new more
sophisticated paradigm emerges to keep us moving at an
exponential pace. Between 1910 and 1950, computer
technology doubled in power every three years; between 1950
and 1966, it doubled every two years; and it has recently been
doubling every year.
By the year 2020, your $1,000 personal computer will have the
processing power of the human brain-20 million billion
calculations per second (100 billion neurons times 1,000
connections per neuron times 200 calculations per second per
connection). By 2030, it will take a village of human brains to
match a $1,000 computer. By 2050, $1,000 worth of
computing will equal the processing power of all human brains
on earth.
Of course, achieving the processing power of the human brain
is necessary but not sufficient for creating human level
intelligence in a machine. But by 2030, we'll have the means to
scan the human brain and re-create its design electronically.
Most people don't realize the revolutionary impact of that. The
development of computers that match and vastly exceed the
capabilities of the human brain will be no less important than
the evolution of human intelligence itself some thousands of
generations ago. Current predictions overlook the imminence
of a world in which machines become more like
humans-programmed with replicated brain synapses that
re-create the ability to respond appropriately to human
emotion, and humans become more like machines-our
biological bodies and brains enhanced with billions of
"nanobots," swarms of microscopic robots transporting us in
and out of virtual reality. We have already started down this
road: Human and machine have already begun to meld.
It starts with uploading, or scanning the brain into a computer.
One scenario is invasive: One very thin slice at a time,
scientists input a brain of choice-having been frozen just
slightly before it was going to die-at an extremely high speed.
This way, they can easily see every neuron, every connection
and every neurotransmitter concentration represented in each
synapse-thin layer.
Seven years ago, a condemned killer allowed his brain and
body to be scanned in this way, and you can access all 10
billion bytes of him on the Internet. You can see for yourself
every bone, muscle and section of gray matter in his body. But
the scan is not yet at a high enough resolution to re-create the
interneuronal connections, synapses and neurotransmitter
concentrations that are the key to capturing the individuality
within a human brain.
Our scanning machines today can clearly capture neural
features as long as the scanner is very close to the source.
Within 30 years, however, we will be able to send billions of
nanobots-blood cell-size scanning machines-through every
capillary of the brain to create a complete noninvasive scan of
every neural feature. A shot full of nanobots will someday allow
the most subtle details of our knowledge, skills and
personalities to be copied into a file and stored in a computer.
We can touch and feel this technology today. We just can't
make the nanobots small enough, not yet anyway. But
miniaturization is another one of those accelerating technology
trends. We're currently shrinking the size of technology by a
factor of 5.6 per linear dimension per decade, so it is
conservative to say that this scenario will be feasible in a few
decades. The nanobots will capture the locations,
interconnections and contents of all the nerve cell bodies,
axons, dendrites, presynaptic vesicles, neurotransmitter
concentrations and other relevant neural components. Using
high-speed wireless communication, the nanobots will then
communicate with each other and with other computers that
are compiling the brain-scan database.
If this seems daunting, another scanning project, that of the
human genome, was also considered ambitious when it was
first introduced 12 years ago. At the time, skeptics said the
task would take thousands of years, given current scanning
capabilities. But the project is finishing on time nevertheless
because the speed with which we can sequence DNA has
grown exponentially.
Brain scanning is a prerequisite to Winston and Nellie's virtual
life-and apparent immortality.
In 2029, we will swallow or inject billions of nanobots into our
veins to enter a three dimensional cyberspace-a virtual reality
environment. Already, neural implants are used to counteract
tremors from Parkinson's disease as well as multiple sclerosis.
I have a deaf friend who can now hear what I'm saying because
of his cochlear implant. Under development is a retinal implant
that will perform a similar function for blind people, basically
replacing certain visual processing circuits of the brain.
Recently, scientists from Emory University placed a chip in the
brain of a paralyzed stroke victim who can now begin to
communicate and control his environment directly from his
brain.
But while a surgically introduced neural implant can be placed
in only one or at most a few locations, nanobots can take up
billions or trillions of positions throughout the brain. We already
have electronic devices called neuron transistors that,
noninvasively, allow communication between electronics and
biological neurons. Using this technology, developed at
Germany's Max Planck Institute of Biochemistry, scientists
were recently able to control from their computer the
movements of a living leech.
By taking up positions next to specific neurons, the nanobots
will be able to detect and control their activity. For virtual reality
applications, the nanobots will take up positions next to every
nerve fiber coming from all five of our senses. When we want to
enter a specific virtual environment, the nanobots will suppress
the signals coming from our real senses and replace them with
new, virtual ones. We can then cause our virtual body to move,
speak and otherwise interact in the virtual environment. The
nanobots would prevent our real bodies from moving; instead,
we would have a virtual body in a virtual environment, which
need not be the same as our real body.
Like the experiences Winston and Nellie enjoyed, this
technology will enable us to have virtual interactions with other
people-or simulated people-without requiring any equipment
not already in our heads. And virtual reality will not be as crude
as what you experience in today's arcade games. It will be as
detailed and subtle as real life. So instead of just phoning a
friend, you can meet in a virtual Italian bistro or stroll down a
virtual tropical beach, and it will all seem real. People will be
able to share any type of experience-business, social,
romantic or sexual- regardless of physical proximity.
The trip to virtual reality will be readily reversible since, with
your thoughts alone, you will be able to shut the nanobots off, or
even direct them to leave your body. Nanobots are
programmable, in that they can provide virtual reality one
minute and a variety of brain extensions the next. They can
change their configuration, and even alter their software.
While the combination of human-level intelligence in a machine
and a computer's inherent superiority in the speed, accuracy
and sharing ability of its memory will be formidable-this is not
an alien invasion. It is emerging from within our human-
machine civilization.
But will virtual life and its promise of immortality obviate the
fear of death? Once we upload our knowledge, memories and
insights into a computer, will we have acquired eternal life?
First we must determine what human life is. What is
consciousness anyway? If my thoughts, knowledge,
experience, skills and memories achieve eternal life without
me, what does that mean for me?
Consciousness-a seemingly basic tenet of "living"-is
perplexing and reflects issues that have been debated since
the Platonic dialogues. We assume, for instance, that other
humans are conscious, but when we consider the possibility
that nonhuman animals may be conscious, our understanding
of consciousness is called into question.
The issue of consciousness will become even more
contentious in the 21st century because nonbiological
entities-read: machines-will be able to convince most of us that
they are conscious. They will master all the subtle cues that we
now use to determine that humans are conscious. And they will
get mad if we refute their claims.
Consider this: If we scan me, for example, and record the exact
state, level and position of my every neurotransmitter, synapse,
neural connection and other relevant details, and then
reinstantiate this massive database into a neural computer,
then who is the real me? If you ask the machine, it will
vehemently claim to be the original Ray. Since it will have all of
my memories, it will say, "I grew up in Queens, New York, went
to college at MIT, stayed in the Boston area, sold a few
artificial intelligence companies, walked into a scanner there
and woke up in the machine here. Hey, this technology really
works."
But there are strong arguments that this is really a different
person. For one thing, old biological Ray (that's me) still exists.
I'll still be here in my carbon, cell-based brain. Alas, I (the old
biological Ray) will have to sit back and watch the new Ray
succeed in endeavors that I could only dream of.
But New Ray will have some strong claims as well. He will say
that while he is not absolutely identical to Old Ray, neither is
the current version of Old Ray, since the particles making up
my biological brain and body are constantly changing. It is the
patterns of matter and energy that are semipermanent (that is,
changing only gradually), while the actual material content
changes constantly and very quickly.
Viewed in this way, my identity is rather like the pattern that
water makes when rushing around a rock in a stream. The
pattern remains relatively unchanged for hours, even years,
while the actual material constituting the pattern-the water-is
replaced in milliseconds.
This idea is consistent with the philosophical notion that we
should not associate our fundamental identity with a set of
particles, but rather with the pattern of matter and energy that
we represent. In other words, if we change our definition of
consciousness to value patterns over particles, then New Ray
may have an equal claim to be the continuation of Old Ray.
One could scan my brain and reinstantiate the new Ray while I
was sleeping, and I would not necessarily even know about it. If
you then came to me, and said, "Good news, Ray, we've
successfully reinstantiated your mind file so we won't be
needing your old body and brain anymore," I may quickly
realize the philosophical flaw in the argument that New Ray is a
continuation of my consciousness. I may wish New Ray well,
and realize that he shares my pattern, but I would nonetheless
conclude that he is not me, because I'm still here.
Wherever you wind up on this debate, it is worth noting that
data do not necessarily last forever. The longevity of
information depends on its relevance, utility and accessibility. If
you've ever tried to retrieve information from an obsolete form
of data storage in an old obscure format (e.g., a reel of
magnetic tape from a 1970s minicomputer), you understand
the challenge of keeping software viable. But if we are diligent
in maintaining our mind file, keeping current backups and
porting to the latest formats and mediums, then at least a
crucial aspect of who we are will attain a longevity independent
of our bodies.
What does this super technological intelligence mean for the
future? There will certainly be grave dangers associated with
21st century technologies. Consider unrestrained nanobot
replication. The technology requires billions or trillions of
nanobots in order to be useful, and the most cost-effective way
to reach such levels is through self-replication, essentially the
same approach used in the biological world, by bacteria, for
example. So in the same way that biological self-replication
gone awry (i.e., cancer) results in biological destruction, a
defect in the mechanism curtailing nanobot self-replication
would endanger all physical entities, biological or otherwise.
Other salient questions are: Who is controlling the nanobots?
Who else might the nanobots be talking to?
Organizations, including governments, extremist groups or
even a clever individual, could put trillions of undetectable
nanobots in the water or food supply of an entire population.
These "spy" nanobots could then monitor, influence and even
control our thoughts and actions. In addition, authorized
nanobots could be influenced by software viruses and other
hacking techniques. Just as technology poses dangers today,
there will be a panoply of risks in the decades ahead.
On a personal level, I am an optimist, and I expect that the
creative and constructive applications of this technology will
persevere, as I believe they do today. But there will be a
valuable and increasingly vocal role for a concerned movement
of Luddites-those anti-technologists inspired by
early-19th-century weavers who in protest destroyed machinery
that was threatening their livelihood.
Still, I regard the freeing of the human mind from its severe
physical limitations as a necessary next step in evolution.
Evolution, in my view, is the purpose of life, meaning that the
purpose of life-and of our lives-is to evolve.
What does it mean to evolve? Evolution moves toward greater
complexity, elegance, intelligence, beauty, creativity and love.
And God has been called all these things, only without any
limitation, infinite. While evolution never reaches an infinite
level, it advances exponentially, certainly moving in that
direction. Technological evolution, therefore, moves us
inexorably closer to becoming like God. And the freeing of our
thinking from the severe limitations of our biological form may
be regarded as an essential spiritual quest.
By the close of the next century, nonbiological intelligence will
be ubiquitous. There will be few humans without some form of
artificial intelligence, which is growing at a double exponential
rate, whereas biological intelligence is basically at a standstill.
Nonbiological thinking will be trillions of trillions of times more
powerful than that of its biological progenitors, although it will
be still of human origin.
Ultimately, however, the earth's technology-creating species
will merge with its own computational technology. After all, what
is the difference between a human brain enhanced a
trillion-fold by nanobot-based implants, and a computer whose
design is based on high-resolution scans of the human brain,
and then extended a trillion-fold?
This may be the ominous, existential question that our own
children, certainly our grandchildren, will face. But at this point,
there's no turning back. And there's no slowing down.
(http://www.psychologytoday.com/features3.html)