The Turing Test

Posted on Fri Dec 17th, 2021 @ 8:23am by Captain Natacha Patani

Mission: MISSION 0 - History Speaks
Location: Counselor's Office
Timeline: MD10
2196 words - 4.4 OF Standard Post Measure

Natacha straightened her uniform as she approached the counselor's office. It had nothing to do with nervousness and everything with being a marine. It had been engrained into Natacha during basic that, wherever she was, no one looking at her ever mistook her for being anything but a marine. Natacha loved being a marine, so 'projecting marine' at all times was never a problem.

Natacha knew what was in her record, and what was required of her to continue to be considered 'functional.' As long as she could continue being a marine, Natacha had no problem doing any of them. And that included regular sessions with a counselor.

After ensuring the bun her hair was in was tight, Natacha signaled her presence at the door of the counselor's office.

Rael's office was in a state of disarray, but there were a few options to choose from with regards to seating: from a traditional couch, to one of two brightly colored chairs arranged around a glass low-table. A desk in the corner held a terminal and chair that Rael presumably worked at when he wasn't seeing patients, and the rest of the office was an Ode to Knick-Knacks featuring hanging plants, wind chimes, and drawings that vacillated between the professional and outright childlike.

The door keyed open and revealed his next patient, and Rael was in the middle of something on his PADD nursing a Betazoid espresso drink known as haisha. He literally did not look up to greet her for a few seconds before the sound of her foot falls alerted him to her presence and his head shot up. Eyes briefly widening, he played it off as a fumble and offered her a smile, squinting a little at her. "...Captain Patani, is that-I'm sorry, is that right?"

The marine officer nodded, before answering, "And you are Lieutenant Rael, I believe." Natacha gestured towards an open seat. "May I sit?"

"Yes," he replied skeptically, eyebrows knit together. "Of course, please, come in and have a seat wherever you'd like. Can I get you anything from the replicator?" he asked, trying and failing to adjust to the sensation. After a few aborted seconds he had to comment on it. "This is really-out of the ordinary. I'm having a hard time with-" he gestured between them. His first thought was medical-that he was having a side effect from his new medication.

Something else niggled.

He rose to pick up her personnel file again, perusing it directly in front of her. "You're psi-null," he put it together after about a minute. "I read-but I've never encountered this face-to-face. Please accept my apologies, that was highly unprofessional." And frankly he was not certain of his capabilities, here. His entire limbic system was predicated on psionics. Giving therapy in such a compromised state-it was at the very least irresponsible.

Natacha gave a polite "No thank you" at the offer of refreshments, but otherwise kept her face neutral during the Lieutenant's rambling. When the counselor observed that she was 'psi-null,' she merely gave a sort of tilted nod, but otherwise continued remaining silent while her face remained blank.

He was still struggling to parse her presence across from him. "Why don't you tell me a little bit about what brings you here today," he said instead, reorienting as best as he could with a warm smile.

"it's a requirement of my continued service in the Corps," Natacha answered. She sat there quietly, obviously quite comfortable in not volunteering anything else.

"I see," he answered. "Is that required from all marines or you specifically?"

"Me specifically," Natacha answered without hesitation. "My background gives certain individuals pause." Natacha shrugged. "If these sessions are what is needed to keep me in the Corps, then I have no problem with them."

"That's a very positive outlook to have," Rael told her sincerely. He closed his eyes, relaxing his posture, and spoke with his eyes still closed the following question. "What is it about your background that you think gives people pause? Do you agree that it should give people pause?"

"On Randeer III, before the Federation rediscovered us, I was a top echelon citizen," Natacha began. "I know for a fact that the authorities considered my genetic material highly desirable, and I do not doubt that I have more than a few children, before the Federation backed provisional government dismantled my planet's collective reproductive system. In the Federation..." Natacha shrugged. "I have been described as a high functioning sociopath who, lacking her own moral compass, has instead adopted a caricature of the Marine Corps ethos. A rather simplistic description, but then I'm not a trained counselor."

"There was debate," Natacha continued, "whether adolescents from Randeer III who were considered upper echelon prior to rediscovery could be rehabilitated to function in mainstream Federation society. Thus the requirement for these counseling sessions," Natacha concluded.

"I see," Rael nodded. It was easier with his eyes closed, to focus on the tone of her voice, absent the jarring visual stimulus being completely disconnected from psionic contact. She reminded him of Hiram, though there was something there, it was somewhat too fractured to put into the correct sequence. "Who described you as high functioning sociopath?" The term was exceptionally outdated, having been replaced by spectrum disorders of fixed/stable traits instead. "And what do you think led them to making that determination?"

Natacha paused, then asked, "Have you ever killed a sentient being, Lieutenant? If so, how old were you when you killed your first person? I was eight, it was during a competition, and by my society's standards, I became more potentially desirable when the time came to create the next generation of my planet's citizen. Does that answer your question?" Natasha's voice was void of emotion.

"Is that a question you would like an answer to?" Rael asked instead, curious. "A lot of people kill. Most of them aren't anti-social." His smile was slight. "Not that I'm discounting it's a possibility, but it's worth noting that ASPD in particular corresponds to specific deficits in affective empathy, most particularly in the felt sensations of remorse. ASPD also has a higher rate than average of a pattern of criminality. As a child," he pointed out, eyebrows arched, "you would not have met that criteria. Are you still wandering around killing people?"

For the first time a hint of a smile tugged at the left corner of Natacha's mouth. "Is that a question you want an answer to, lieutenant?"

"It's why I asked," he nodded, unfazed.

The smile disappeared. "I do not wander around killing people randomly, but I have killed sentient beings. Until I was sixteen, I did so in sport arenas during sanctioned events. For the last twelve years, I have done so for Starfleet's Marine Corps, again during sanctioned events. I am a decorated combat Marine, after all, not a feather merchant. The problem is..." Natacha paused, before continuing. "Lieutenant, are you familiar with a pair of philosophers from the twentieth century, Alan Turing and William Putnam?"

"I'm familiar with Turing," the Vulcan answered, gesturing for her to continue.

"Putnam expands on the brain as a Turing machine when dealing with the mind/body problem," the Marine officer elaborated, before going back to the main thrust of her argument. "On Earth, when computer programs became more sophisticated, Turing tests were designed to differentiate between human users and computer programs masquerading as human users. The issuance of this test became a common theme of fiction creators during this time period."

"I'm familiar," Rael nodded. He'd served on the USS Turing, so it'd been something of a mandatory history lesson.

"This is Starfleet's problem with individuals such as myself," Natacha concluded. "Considering my background, there are doubts on whether I can effectively integrate into the Corps. The rebuttal is that I have, in fact, served effectively in the Corps for twelve years, and done so with an exemplary record. But certain academics aren't sure whether I possess the core moral values to serve in the Corps, or if I'm a Turing machine feeding back preprogrammed responses to satisfy anyone monitoring me. And since I am a psychic null, there is no easy way to tell. Hence the mandatory counseling sessions," Natacha finished with a shrug.

"And that sounds like an interesting academic problem," said the Vulcan, "but unless your behavior is inappropriate, I'm failing to see why you require mandatory counseling." It was blunt. "Killing in the line of duty is something that we can talk about. Military service can be very challenging, and taking a life is complicated whether or not you have a felt experience of it. I'm happy to work with you on those issues. But the fact that you may or may not feel emotions the way that other people want you to-at your job-" his eyes blinked and he shook his head. "As long as your morals are not influencing amoral behavior, it's frankly irrelevant. You're a person, and you deserve consideration as a unique, sentient, whole being."

NAtacha shrugged. "Whether you or I agree or disagree on the necessity of these counseling sessions is irrelevant. Our superiors deem them necessary to my continued service. Consider the following scenario, Lieutenant. Let us say you have two brilliant surgeons, both with exemplary records, both with high percentile success records. Both enjoy their work because it is technically challenging. One, however, enjoys aiding the individuals they're working on. The other enjoys the blood inherent to an operation. They are both unique, sentient whole beings as you put it. And both have equally excellent records. But if you were setting up your own medical department, and could only have one of them, can you honestly tell me you would not choose the first over the second?"

Rael's head tilted. "I can, yes. If the second one demonstrated a good bedside manner and was able to display compassion regardless of their personal feelings, it wouldn't factor into my decision. Furthermore, as the individual administering this assessment, it is within my purview to have the status called into question," Rael pointed out. "It's my responsibility to advocate for my patient. As I said, I'd be glad to work with you, I think there are some issues at play here that you would benefit from addressing in therapy-but if you'd prefer not to do this every month, I can help you with that."

"I believe you are being disingenuous, Lieutenant, but I won't belabor the point. Not this session, at any rate," Natacha added.

"That's your prerogative," Rael replied with a small smile.

"As to the status of these sessions, I have been attending a session with a Federation trained counselor since before I joined the Corps. It was a program my home world's provisional government initiated, at the Federation's suggestion, for high profile sports figure in their late adolescence. The single caveat for me being allowed to join the Corps was that I continued with regularly scheduled counseling sessions."

"During my more than a decade worth of counseling sessions," Natacha continued, "My counselors have recommended twice that I be separated from the Corps, and six times that the requirement for these sessions be rescinded. Each time those recommendations have been overturned, overruled, rescinded...use the past tense verb of your choice."

"I have long since determined," Natacha concluded, "That the purposes of these sessions are not to help me deal with traumatic events. I have not encountered any events that make me feel traumatized. I also do not feel the need to randomly kill any individuals, so the sessions are not meant to defuse those any such nonexistent urges. These sessions are meant to continually monitor my mental state, pure and simple. For the privilege of continuing to serve in the Corps, I have no objection to attending them."

Well if Rael's recommendations were going to be overturned at every moment by everybody who wasn't him, there wasn't a whole lot that he could do except participate in this medical theater, which was both a waste of Starfleet resources and a waste of Natacha's time-but ultimately that wasn't her fault-so he pivoted. It was time, it could be used, even if it wasn't traditional. "Do you think you need to attend them? Is therapy something that you're interested in pursuing on its own? I mean, we could go for a hike. Play parcheesi. Learn the banjo." His lips twitched slightly.

Natacha's PADD made a small chirping sound. The Marine Captain read something on her PADD, nodded and stood up. "In answer to your question, Lieutenant, I feel I need to attend these sessions because that is a condition of me being able to remain in the Corps. And I know that wasn't the question you were asking."

"I have an unarmed combat session to conduct with our greener recruits," Natacha said as she headed toward the door. "I'd like to schedule another session, if that's okay, Lieutenant. The philosophical debate was fascinating."