Life went on, day after day, month after month, year after year, and I lived to see the arrival in our friendly family — officially designated as the study group of the “Mouse Claw” clan — of a little Togruta named Ahsoka Tano.
The girl herself interested me only as a reference point.
Because there were certain difficulties with access to ordinary news.
As there were, in general, with any information from outside the Temple walls.
She’s four; it’s about ten years until she becomes Anakin’s Padawan, and thus until the Clone Wars.
So, either the canon is already happening and the Trade Federation is blockading Naboo, or it’s about to happen.
In two years, when I turn twelve, I’ll be able to participate in the annual Youngling Tournament.
Until I’m fifteen, I’ll have three conditionally official attempts to find a master.
Hmm, so I’m the same age as the Chosen One?
Funny.
Well, I’ll have to ramp up my training and Force techniques.
Though, you’d think I was already doing plenty.
Education in the Temple is set up quite interestingly.
I’d even say — in some ways, turned on its head.
The bulk of young Jedi youngsters enter the Temple at the age of three to five.
Of course, there are exceptions.
I’ve personally seen eight and even nine-year-old newcomers.
Around the age of four or five, something like elementary school begins.
You’re led around holding your hand.
It includes four blocks.
The first — standard reading, writing, arithmetic, and so on.
Naturally, in Galactic Basic.
The second — history and the world around you.
Both subjects are heavily combined with proper upbringing; the emphasis is placed clearly, and the examples are chosen vividly.
The third — physical training, based on fencing with small additions of hand-to-hand combat and acrobatics.
They don’t teach anything really “wow,” but they lay a solid foundation.
A youngling who completes the mandatory five-year program conditionally masters the first form of lightsaber combat.
Actually, that’s the basis for learning the science of slicing up those nearby with a lightsaber.
And finally, the last block — the Force.
Three-quarters of it consists of meditations, the rest is allocated to techniques: telekinesis, enhancement of physical abilities, body strengthening, pushes, jumps, and other things in the same vein.
And they’re learned in an original way: you sort of got it?
Good, let’s move on.
At the end of the five years, you take exams, and — hello, freedom.
A kid who has gritted their teeth through the mandatory program unexpectedly finds themselves left to their own devices.
Not entirely, of course; there are several courses you are required to take.
In particular — Force Artifactrics, where the basic disciplines are studied through the example of creating a lightsaber, including the infamous “Force Forging.” Again, at least twice a day you have to meditate for an hour, and this is strictly monitored.
In the morning, there’s a mandatory physical exercise session, in the Jedi style, so you don’t lose form and to let off steam.
There are also two-hour lectures given by Knights, Masters, and sometimes even Grand Masters.
A kind of window into the wide world.
Though, with the systematization of the information being dumped on you…
trouble, trouble, woe.
For the most part, the seniors returning from their next assignments spin yarns, stirring up in the souls of the younger ones a desire to do good and uphold justice.
Quite an interesting approach.
For such a diverse bunch as the GFFA — quite a solid achievement.
Now, about the local non-organic beings, i.e., artificial intelligences in general and processors in particular.
This is cool!
Just “wow,” in short.
Back on Earth, before my demise, industry giants were already showing off hybrid processors.
But there was one tiny hitch with photons.
Those little devils, unlike electrons, have neither rest mass nor any charge, so there was no way to influence them.
Give me good old silicon and electricity with magnetic fields any day.
Beautiful.
Total control, if you want it.
So, in this far, far away galaxy, they’ve been working with the notorious gravity for a long time.
They also have an excellent understanding of various fields and radiations.
You probably remember from the movies that ships just cruised around space, and they didn’t have any rotating parts.
Crews weren’t floating around the corridors in zero gravity.
Shots spread out in rainbow films, and insane accelerations didn’t smear pilots all over the cockpits and seats.
And without that last part, you can’t fly from one planet to another in a couple of hours.
I’m leading up to the fact that photonic technologies are used universally here, and the frequency of light in the visible spectrum, by the way, is ten to the fifteenth.
Earthly achievements pale, to put it mildly, against this background.
The simplest cleaning robot, with a cheap processor, was as different from the personal computers I knew as those PCs were from their late twentieth-century ancestors.
And those old machines were used to calculate the physics of a nuclear explosion.
Actually, AIs in this far, far away galaxy were software-based.
The processor power simply allowed it.
This was also the root of the terribly inefficient use of B-1 droids during the “Clone Wars.” They simply lacked the computational power to maintain intelligence and operate all their other systems.
So they were dumb as rocks, missed their shots because they couldn’t properly calculate lead, and couldn’t really learn.
Although, the latter was more the organic’s fault.
The galaxy had seen more than one machine uprising, which is why artificial brains were periodically wiped.
Their formed personalities were reset to a pre-created state.
And those who were fortunate were, as a rule, very loyal to their masters.
At any rate, very few robots were planning a wholesale slaughter of organics.
After all, the development of each specific system was based on a pre-created pseudo-personality.
In which, naturally, respect and reverence for the creators were built in a priori.
The Jedi didn’t skimp on themselves, so the Temple’s AI was top-notch.
Actually, they did skimp on themselves personally, giving everything to the Order, but that’s a detail.
The commune principle taken to its logical extreme.
In essence, I offloaded my training onto “the Temple,” as I conditionally dubbed the Order’s AI.
It was bored, and here was an opportunity.
For me, an AI causes a desire to spray everything with yellow hot water and leads to wild excitation of the nervous system; for everyone else, it’s a perfectly ordinary occurrence, not even worth attention.
What am I saying, the average inhabitant just gives commands to the hunk of metal.
It doesn’t matter if it’s a waiter droid or a starship.
You ordered — you got it, or you found out why what you wanted was impossible.
No money, or not enough fuel for the destination, or something else, depending on the situation.
And if only it were just that!
What causes cognitive dissonance and brain explosion is how the available AI capabilities are used.
Everyone, across the board, from supposed specialists to ordinary citizens.
Words fail me, only emotions remain.
Apparently, a transmigrated programmer from India bit some local programmers a long, long time ago, and then they just sort of evolved on their own — I have never seen such inefficient code.
A suspicion creeps in that the first AI was written by someone from outside, and then the natives somehow finished it to its current state, compensating for the crappiness of the algorithms with raw computational power.
Maybe I’m wrong?
After all, if the locals relied entirely on AIs, they would have degraded long ago.
But still, you could find some kind of golden mean, instead of using an AI at the level of a simple computer with a voice interface.
The Temple put together a training program for me in a couple of days that was just finger-licking good.
In general, the Order, in terms of opportunities for self-improvement, offers boundless possibilities.
Take, for example, that any program from any Republic university can be studied within the Temple walls completely free of charge.
You won’t get an official diploma without paying for the full course, but you can pass the certification.
It’s just that a true-blue Jedi wouldn’t even think of such heresy, and why would he need it anyway?
A lightsaber and a uniform — that’s all the personal property a paladin of light is allowed.
Instead of education — the Code.
Depressing nonsense.
There are exceptions, but they are few.
Although, in various Corps, for example, among the diplomats, there is something like courses.
I think they’re even excellent in terms of the knowledge they provide, but you have to agree — it’s still a surrogate.
The only thing I had to limit the AI’s enthusiasm for was the timeframe.
I set a ceiling of nine years for the curriculum, to have a time buffer before the coming Clone Wars.
I also had to mess around with the disciplines to be studied.
In the end, an individual training program was cobbled together from a vast array of data, designed for six hours of study per day.
According to the AI’s assurances, after mastering it, any industrial company would gladly offer me the post of a wide-profile design engineer.
Uh-huh, you want to create combine harvesters, you can; you want to create spaceships, you can.
I barely stopped myself from asking if I could design the “Death Star.” The Temple was also ready to stake its coprocessor on the fact that I’d be capable of the work of a sector representative in any of the leading corporations, from the notorious Trade Federation to any Banking Clan.
Another option: the post of Viceroy for the Hutts, or at least an assistant treasurer.
Apparently, that last one was really cool, since the AI mentioned it.
Theoretically, I’ll also be able to get certified as an army General and a fleet Admiral.
In short, I’m looking at a very, very diverse education over the course of less than a decade.
Military ranks in the Republic, due to the lack of a proper army and fleet, were a funny matter.
There was a small pool of educational institutions that trained officers from the rank of Lieutenant all the way up to those same Generals and Admirals.
Upon graduation, a diploma was issued with an appendix containing the results of the final knowledge assessment.
However, to have the rank conferred, you had to apply to the Judicial Corps (the surrogate that replaced a normal military force).
There, the “specialist” underwent certification, defended their knowledge before a stern commission, and, based on the results, after receiving the rank, they would routinely be placed in the reserves without a pension.
Of course, no one forbade serving for the good of the motherland, but naturally in a vacant position.
You understand, those who could afford to pay for the full course of education weren’t exactly eager to serve as Sergeants or even Captains.
As a rule, planetary fleets and armies awaited them, where there was a position corresponding to their rank.
That’s the kind of pretzel logic that was going on in the Republic after the reform and disbandment of its normal armed forces.