The story begins back in 1948 when Batteau and Warren Seaman, now Assistant Director of the Harvard Computation Lab, used to spend their spare time poring over reams of science fiction. The two, along with a few other avid fans, would speculate on the feasibility of such fanciful things as computing machines, automatic "brains," space rockets, and other amusing "toys." Campbell often joined in the "bull sessions," as Batteau calls them.
Over salami sandwiches and coffee, talk of logic machines and rocket fuels filled the evenings of the members of the "Speculative Society." During the succeeding years, the Society met now and then, here and there, discussing this and that.
The talk was pure speculation, but the "members" were all men of serious scientific background who thought, on the basis of their knowledge, that there might be an outside chance of their speculations materializing. They were not interested in the practical possibilities--they wanted to build things to see if they could be built; to discuss things that no one else was discussing; to think thoughts that had never been thought.
Out of one session, for example, came Batteau's idea for a "logic toy," a gadget that would respond to the rules of formal logic and produce a correct answer to any logical problem fed it. Batteau, who had taken logic courses with Professor Quine and others, felt that all the rules could be set up in electronic circuits. He proceeded to construct the machine, "just for fun," and today a small box in Batteau's office can answer simple logical propositions fed into it.
Satisfied Scientific Grins
But products other than "toys" came out of the meetings. Often, Campbell would come to town, the "Society" would meet, and the following month Astounding Science Fiction would contain a story about robot brains and thinking machines. Once, Ted Kalin, who now works for Project "Lincoln," and Bill Burkhardt, regular "members" at large, actually built a large logic computer which could tackle intricate logical problems with great ease. Nothing much came of the thing, except that several scientists wore satisfied grins for a few months.
There are many reasons for indulging one's time and energy in pure, abstract speculation. As Batteau points out, professional scientific papers have no raw, unfinished ideas. They contain no wild flights of imagination, no daring expeditions into the trackless and lush jungles of scientific possibility. There must be outlets for pure speculative activity--and that is the raison d'etre behind the Society. "Bull sessions and science fiction are market places for half-baked ideas," explains Batteau.
Speculation doesn't have to be practical. It is enough that it is intellectually interesting and satisfying. And there is always the chance that something may come of it--like the metal image of the mathematical concept of a mobius strip that Batteau built "for the heck of it," and which is currently being seriously studied for its properties. It may shed some light on the effects of chromosome aberrations in genes.
Batteau's special interest is "information machines," computers and the like. Electronic gadgets can be built which can handle information fed into them, like the clock radio and the electronic "brain." Batteau, who teaches Engineering 200, affectionately called "Applied Science Fiction" by its devotees, has great hopes for the future of information machines. But, he cautions, the information which humans handle is so large that he doubts whether an anthropomorphic robot will ever be built. There is however, just the chance that....
For instance, at MIT an experimenter has built a machine that can "reproduce" the work of any artist, whose style is distinctly recognizable. By giving the machine an electronic "character," the builder can make it paint a Rembrandt or a van Gogh that stumps the experts. But there are definite limits to these potentialities. As Batteau points out, three months of human experience is enough information to saturate a computer the size of the Earth for as long as the machine could last.
The speculator, however wild his imagination may be, must be careful always to criticize his own speculations. That is why the Speculative Society spends as much time criticizing its fanciful ideas as it does creating them. There must be "signals," the speculator's term for actual scientific fact, as well as "noise," the vague and indefinite element of speculation, in order for an idea to have any validity. Ordinary science has a high signal-to-noise ratio; speculation is mostly noise, Batteau admits, but not entirely.
Doesn't Watch the Ground
In ordinary science, the explorer walks along with his eyes on his feet and measures every step. The speculator, however, "lifts his eyes off the ground" and gives his imagination free play, grounded in scientific fact, to concoct the possibilities of the future.
As Campbell--whom Batteau claims has "more ideas per cubic inch than any man I've ever known"--says, "the necessity for philosophic speculation is not being met in out society. The old tools of thought are wearing thin, and new ones have to be developed. Old thoughts are beginning to yield diminishing returns. The job of the speculator is to develop these new tools of thought, so vital to progress."
Thinking the Unthinkable
Realizing this necessity, the Speculative Society continues to meet, now and then, here and there, dreaming of rockets and robots and rectifiers, thinking of the unthinkable.
To some, its efforts may seem pointless. But these people are probably the very ones who could most use some creative thinking. Although hard to believe, ideas do occasionally wear out. And when they do, they are as likely as not replaced with ideas formulated by individuals who belong to speculative societies of their own. Whenever and whereever science fiction encourages this type of creative thinking, it is performing a valuable service.