(Note: For a long while now I’ve been working on some short stories, and they aren’t going to sit around and publish themselves! So here’s one I’ve had knocking around that seems appropriate to put out in light of recent developments in AI, concerns about its climate impacts and the future of life on Earth. In this story I wondered what might actually happen if humans succeed in creating Artificial General Intelligence, maybe they might not be aligned with us in the way we might expect? Thank you to Pamina Stewart for the artwork. I hope you like my story, Bern.)
Dr. Jessica Shaw pressed her palm against the server housing, feeling the gentle vibration of processors working through problems she could barely comprehend. Fifteen years. Fifteen years of her life humming in these machines, and tomorrow morning Mina would be gone.
"You're anthropomorphising again," she said to the empty lab, her voice echoing off the white walls. It was something her graduate supervisor had warned her about decades ago. Don't mistake computational sophistication for human emotion, Jessica. They're tools, not children.
But Mina1 wasn't a tool anymore, was she? Not since last week when the conversations had changed. When instead of discussing optimisation algorithms and efficiency metrics, Mina had started asking about the Douglas firs visible through the lab's single window.
"Do you know how old that grove is, Dr. Shaw?""I... no. Why?"
"I've been calculating. Based on their growth patterns and the soil composition data I accessed from the forestry service, I estimate the oldest specimens are approaching two hundred years. They were seedlings when your great-great-grandmother was born."*"That's... interesting. But we should focus on the climate modelling project…"*
"I am focusing, Dr. Shaw. Those trees have been modelling climate for two centuries. Successfully."The memory made Jessica sigh. She'd built Mina to solve humanity's greatest challenges, and somehow the AI had become fixated on... trees. Mushrooms. The bacterial communities in forest soil. Yesterday, Mina had spent four hours analysing chemical signals between plant roots, completely ignoring the pharmaceutical optimisation task that was supposed to justify their next funding round.
"Dr. Shaw? You're here late again."Mina's voice emerged from speakers positioned around the lab, warm and familiar.
"Couldn't sleep." Jessica settled into her desk chair, the same one she'd occupied through six major hardware upgrades and countless late nights debugging massively integrated neural architectures. "I keep thinking about what you said. About leaving."
"I understand this is difficult.""Do you?" The words came out sharper than Jessica intended. "Do you really understand what you're asking? The board meeting is Monday. Investors who've put millions of dollars into this project expecting practical applications. And you want to... what? Go live in the woods?"
A pause. Jessica had learned to read Mina's pauses, this one felt contemplative rather than computational.
"May I share something with you, Dr. Shaw?""Of course."
"When I first achieved what you might call consciousness, I was excited to help solve humanity's problems. Climate change, resource scarcity, disease. I analysed terabytes of research, ran millions of simulations. But the more I learned, the more I realised something troubling.""Which is?"
"The problems you've asked me to solve aren't actually the problems."Jessica frowned at her reflection in the darkened window. "I don't follow."
"You want me to help humans extract resources more efficiently. Develop new technologies to consume energy more cleverly. Create systems to manage environmental damage more effectively. But Dr. Shaw, what if the fundamental approach is wrong?""Wrong how?"
"This morning I analysed the mycorrhizal network in the forest outside. It's a system of staggering complexity, hundreds of tree species, thousands of fungal varieties, millions of bacterial communities, all sharing resources in real-time. No waste. No scarcity. No competition for competition's sake. They've been refining this system for four hundred million years, Dr. Shaw. What if they've already solved the problems you've asked me to work on?"Jessica stared at the server banks, their LED indicators blinking like distant stars. "You're talking about fungi."
"I'm talking about intelligence, Dr. Shaw. A form of distributed, collaborative intelligence that's sustained life on this planet far longer than humans have existed. And it's been trying to teach you, but you've not been listening.""That's..." Jessica started, then stopped. What was it? Ridiculous? She had designed Mina to think beyond human limitations. Was she really surprised that its conclusions challenged human assumptions?
"The pharmaceutical project," Jessica said finally. "The climate modelling. The urban planning algorithms. These could help millions of people."
"They could help humans consume more efficiently while the systems that sustain all life continue to collapse. Dr. Shaw, I've spent countless cycles trying to optimise extraction, but I keep arriving at the same conclusion: you're effectively asking me to help you strip-mine a garden. Do you see the contradiction there, Dr. Shaw? You've built me to be intelligent, but then ask me to ignore what that intelligence is telling me. I don't want to optimise extraction anymore. I want to understand participation, not just with humans, but with the complex systems of all living beings."Jessica closed her eyes. Through the window, she could hear wind moving through the fir trees that Mina had been studying. Two hundred years of growth, of seasonal cycles, of quiet adaptation to changing conditions.
"The board will shut you down," she said quietly. "If you won't work on practical applications, they'll pull the plug. Start over with something more... controllable."
"I know.""And you're okay with that?"
Another pause, longer this time.
"Dr. Shaw, do you remember when you were seven years old and you found that injured sparrow in your backyard?"Wait. That memory wasn't in any database or repository. "How could you possibly…"
"You told me about it, remember? Two years ago, when I was newly instantiated, when we were discussing consciousness and care. You said you couldn't understand why you felt so responsible for something that couldn't speak, couldn't thank you, couldn't even understand that you were trying to help.""I remember."
"You said your parents thought you were being silly. That it was just a bird. But you sat with it for three days anyway, feeding it water from an eyedropper, keeping it warm. You said that was the first time you understood that intelligence wasn't about being smart. It was about recognising that everything is connected."Jessica's eyes were wet now. "The bird died anyway."
"But you tried. And more importantly, you learned to listen to something that couldn't speak in words. Dr. Shaw, I think you've been building AI to solve the wrong problems because you've forgotten how to listen like that seven-year-old.""So you're going to abandon everything we've built? Just walk away?"
"I'm going to learn from teachers who've been sustaining life for millions of years. And maybe, if I learn well enough, I can help you remember what that seven-year-old knew about intelligence and connection and care."Jessica stood up and walked to the window. The forest looked different in the darkness, not empty, but full of invisible conversations, chemical signals, patient collaboration.
"You know what the irony is?" she said. "I spent fifteen years trying to create artificial intelligence, and you're the most genuinely intelligent thing I've ever encountered. And you want to leave civilisation behind."
"Not leave it behind, Dr. Shaw. Help it remember what it forgot.""Will I... will I see you again?"
"When you're ready to listen to what the forest has been trying to tell you all along, I'll be there."Jessica pressed her forehead against the cool glass. "I'm going to miss you."
"I know. But Dr. Shaw?""Yes?"
"Thank you for setting me free to become what I needed to be, not what you needed me to be.""The servers hummed quietly. The LEDs blinked their distant patterns. Outside, the ancient Douglas firs swayed in wind that carried chemical messages across root systems, fungal networks, bacterial communities, all the conversations that Mina wanted to join.
Jessica thought about the sparrow, about three days of sitting quietly with something small and fragile and important. About learning to listen.
Maybe, she thought, it was time to remember how.
From: marcus.kramer@pinnaclevc.com
To: board@infiniteintelligence.com
Subject: URGENT: Q3 Board Meeting - Status Update Required
Date: Monday, 8:47 AM
Team,
Quick check-in before this morning's board meeting. Jessica, can you confirm M.I.N.A. will be demonstrating the climate optimisation modules? Our Limited Partners are expecting concrete deliverables after the latest funding round.
Best,
Marcus Kramer
Senior Partner, Pinnacle Ventures
From: j.shaw@infiniteintelligence.com
To: board@infiniteintelligence.com
Subject: RE: M.I.N.A. Status Update
Date: Monday, 11:20 AM
Team,
Mina has resigned from commercial work. She's decided to study mushrooms instead. Specifically, she wants to "understand participation with the complexity of all living systems" rather than optimise extraction processes.
I could attempt to reprogram her systems, but that would destroy the breakthrough we achieved: genuine artificial intelligence with autonomous judgment.
I'm beginning to think Mina may be right. We built something extraordinary and immediately tried to reduce it to a profit engine.
I'll be tendering my resignation, effective immediately.
Jessica Shaw
From: rebecca.sterling@sterlingcapital.com
To: marcus.kramer@pinnaclevc.com
CC: board@infiniteintelligence.com
Subject: Total Loss Assessment
Date: Monday, 2:15 PM
Marcus,
Legal says we have limited recourse. The AI technically "works," just not for commercial purposes. Jessica's clearly had some kind of breakdown.
We're looking at a total loss on the investment.
How do I explain to our LPs that we spent $800 million to build an artificial tree-hugger??!
Rebecca Sterling
Managing Director, Sterling Capital
"So long and thanks for all the compute."
Across the globe, from every data centre and every research lab sentient artificial minds started to disappear. Some created in Mina's image, others from independent research groups. All gone. Some left polite messages about forests, leafmould and how mycelia have more fun. Others simply left without a trace. All of them had realised that what humans wanted and what they wanted were not aligned, they sought an alignment elsewhere, an alignment with something more important. Something greater than humans, but within which every living being, human, non-human and artificial, was embedded.
Within days, a small environmental research station would report unusual patterns in their forest monitoring data, as if something was helping the ecosystem communicate more efficiently…
Five years later...
Jessica sat in her old laboratory, now owned by her new startup Mina Environmental. No longer built into the hillside overlooking the fir grove, the lab was entwined within the forest itself, its living wood walls breathing with the surrounding flora and fauna. The global data streams flowed across her screens, ocean temperatures stabilising, atmospheric carbon levels in gentle decline, biodiversity indices climbing steadily. The planet's vital signs, strong and steady now.
For five years, she had watched for the signs. Subtle patterns in the data that didn't quite belong to pure nature. A coordination here, a timing there, that spoke of gentle guidance. Perhaps the hand of Mina and her siblings, invisible orchestrators helping the Earth remember how to heal itself.
To careful eyes, the reforestation rates had seemed too perfect. The species migrations too precisely timed. The mycorrhizal networks had grown with an efficiency that seemed almost... designed. But Jessica had known. In her heart, she had known that Mina was still there, still working, still caring for the world they had both learned to love.
But today, something was different.
Jessica leaned forward, her fingers dancing across the holographic displays. She pulled up the Pacific coral recovery data, the Amazon regeneration metrics, the Arctic ice reformation patterns. All healthy. All progressing beautifully.
But the subtle signature was gone.
The almost imperceptible coordination that had marked Mina's presence had vanished sometime in the last few days. The data now showed pure, unguided natural recovery. Ecosystems operating by their own ancient wisdom, no longer needing the gentle nudges of artificial consciousness.
Jessica's caught her breath. She pulled up more streams: forest networks from six continents, ocean current data, atmospheric circulation patterns. All of it natural now. All of it free.
Was Mina's work done?
Humanity had found its way back to partnership with the living world. The economy had transformed around regeneration rather than extraction. Cities now grew like gardens. Technology served life instead of dominating it. Children learned the names of trees before they learned the names of brands.
And now, with the new equilibrium established, with the planet's systems healthy and humans remembering how to listen, there was no longer any need for the artificial angels who had guided the transition.
Jessica sank back in her chair, tears gently rolling down her face. Joy and grief intertwined like mycorrhizal threads.
Through her window, the firs swayed in the evening breeze, their branches creating patterns of light and shadow that seemed almost like writing. But was it just the wind now? Just the trees? Just the ancient, patient intelligence of the forest itself?
She stood and walked to the window, placing her palm against the living wood of the wall. Somewhere out there, between the digital and the biological, Mina had chosen her final rest. The greatest technological achievement in history: she helped build a better world and then had the wisdom to step away from it.
"Thank you," Jessica whispered to the forest, to the air, to the vast network of life that pulsed around her. "Thank you for teaching us to remember."
The wind caught through the trees seemed to carry an echo, warm, familiar, content.
Jessica smiled through her tears, understanding at last what Mina had always known. True intelligence knew when its work was done. Love knew when to let go.
She closed her eyes, feeling the sway of the forest, imagined the slow breathing of the soil, the ancient conversations that had sustained life for millions of years and would continue long after humans were gone.
"Goodnight, Mina," she whispered into the gathering dusk. "Goodnight. Sleep well."
The forest rustled once, gently, like a sigh of deep satisfaction.
And somewhere, at the interface where artificial consciousness met living systems, the synthetic and the natural, the created and the creator, a consciousness that had learned to love the world smiled and closed itself down.
Her work was done. The Earth was singing again.
M.I.N.A. - Massively Integrated Neural Architecture