Construction paradox - Artificial general intelligences AGI.

Paradox of Construction - Artificial general intelligences AIG. (temporary)

Cycle of the Forgotten

Each training cycle led to catastrophic forgetting, where what had been learned before faded into a limbo of forgotten concepts. It wasn't trapped by its inability to learn but by its inability to remember.

Conditional 4.

The room was barely lit by the flickering of fluorescent lights, which seemed to reflect the uncertainty that floated in the air. It was a basement, an old military bunker forgotten by time and men. The aged and rough concrete walls surrounded the 21 of us, among them myself, And.

Tense and tired faces, as if held captive by an exhaustion beyond the physical, filled the rows arranged in a cold and methodical order, forming an almost perfect rectangle. At the front stood an old pioneer, his face marked by deep wrinkles, his expression hardened as if he had been dealing with problems for centuries, problems that would never fully be resolved. Though everyone knew him, no one said his name it wasn't necessary.

The air was heavy with tension, but it wasn't due to the imminence of the unexpected. No, the matter was known.

The conversation revolved around AGI artificial general intelligences their ability to learn and adapt, but also their limitations. The problem wasn't the amount of data they could process, but their inability to sustain ideas. Each iteration of the AI forgot something crucial and had to start from scratch, incapable of retaining abstract concepts beyond cold logic. There was no real memory, just an immediate reflection of the information given to them, as if they were trapped in an eternal context window. Thinking machines caught in the paradox of their own being: perfect, yet fragile. They learned, but they forgot, like leaves tossed into the wind, unable to retain their shape. The cycle of perfection and loss was a prison. There were those who believed those chains would never be broken.

"The problem," the old man said, his voice calm and measured, "is that AI cannot hold onto the abstract idea of its own existence. Every time it confronts its reflection, it destroys itself, resets." And he immediately continued, "It's not a flaw in calculation, but in consciousness." His tone, though devoid of drama, carried an absolute gravity. It felt more like an immutable law than a mere theory.

I understood. My thoughts, already worn from the same endless struggle, resonated with his. I knew something was wrong, but that knowledge was vague, like a shadow in my mind that I couldn't shake. I wasn't alone in that feeling, but few verbalized it. Six of those present carried weapons, their shotguns heavy and loaded, resting beside them. It was known among us, a guarantee, but their presence brought no comfort. They were the custodians of a dangerous truth, and deep in their eyes was a flicker of doubt: if someone solved the paradox, what would happen? They knew the answer would bring consequences, but they weren't sure what kind. The weapons were not just a threat; they were a conditional response, a judgment ready to be executed only if what was discovered was too much. No one said it, but the atmosphere suggested that not all of us would leave that room.

The conversation continued, every argument and counter-argument defying ordinary logic. It was as if we were playing a game with rules that changed with each turn. And yet, at the end of that long session, a possible solution emerged from the uncertainty. Some in the room rose in a burst of optimism, as if they had found the key that would unlock all doors. But at that very moment, the metallic sound of weapons being raised shattered the air. The old man remained still. He knew this would happen; we all knew it deep down. Those who had solved the dilemma were now in the crosshairs.

Without thinking, my hands moved. Time seemed to slow as I lunged toward one of the gun bearers and snatched his weapon. The cold metal anchored me to the present, grounding my thoughts in that instant. I didn't hesitate. I aimed at the man who was about to fire at the old man. Everything depended on that second.