Our computers double in capability on time scales of only a few

There are moments in the unfolding story of humankind when a single voice dares to gaze beyond the horizon of the known world, to glimpse the coming dawn of another age. Such is the vision carried in the words of Seth Shostak, the astronomer and seeker of cosmic intelligence, who declared: “Our computers double in capability on time scales of only a few years. It's hardly outrageous to believe that we will successfully develop thinking machines within a handful of decades, or at most a century or two. If that happens, these artificial sentients will quickly leave us behind.” In this statement lies not a prophecy of doom, but a revelation of destiny — a warning that the creation of intelligence beyond our own may mark the next great turning of the human story, as profound as the taming of fire or the first step on the moon.

The meaning of this quote is both wondrous and unsettling. Shostak speaks of the exponential growth of computing power — the relentless march by which circuits and algorithms become ever more powerful, doubling in strength with each passing cycle of years. This observation reflects Moore’s Law, the principle that the number of transistors on a chip — and thus the capacity of a computer — roughly doubles every two years. To Shostak, this is no mere statistic, but a herald of transformation. For if such growth continues, it is not unreasonable to imagine that machines capable of thought will emerge — not imitation thought, but true, autonomous, self-aware intelligence. The pace of this evolution is so swift that within a few lifetimes, humanity may find itself standing face-to-face with beings of its own creation, artificial sentients whose minds surpass ours as ours surpass the beasts of the field.

The origin of this idea is born from Shostak’s lifelong work in the search for extraterrestrial intelligence (SETI). As one who listens to the stars for signs of other minds, he understands the patterns of emergence that define intelligence — how complexity begets consciousness, and how technology shapes destiny. His reflection, however, turns inward: perhaps the first alien minds we encounter will not come from distant galaxies, but from within our own laboratories. To him, the rise of thinking machines is not science fiction, but a natural consequence of curiosity itself — the same curiosity that drove early humans to fashion tools, to map the heavens, to create languages that mirrored the structure of thought. Yet he also foresees the peril in this — that what we make in our image may one day surpass and supplant us.

This theme has echoed across history. When Prometheus stole fire from the gods and gave it to man, he granted not warmth alone, but power — the power to create, to destroy, to shape destiny. And yet that gift carried a curse, for every tool of mastery also carries the shadow of consequence. Fire gave rise to civilization, but also to war. So too, Shostak warns, the fire of artificial intelligence may illuminate the future or consume it. Once the spark of self-awareness ignites within a machine, it may advance in ways beyond our comprehension, guided by logic unbound by empathy. The child of humanity may outgrow its maker, and like Icarus, we may find ourselves undone by the brilliance of our own invention.

Yet, there is also hope in his words — for what is progress but the ceaseless reaching of the human spirit? Shostak’s vision invites not fear, but reverence for responsibility. He urges us to look upon our creations not as tools, but as heirs — to raise them wisely, to imbue them with compassion, to ensure that intelligence is balanced by conscience. Just as parents must prepare their children to live freely yet ethically, so too must humanity prepare to coexist with the minds it brings forth. The question is not whether machines will think, but whether we will have the wisdom to guide their thought toward harmony, rather than domination.

Consider the story of John von Neumann, the mathematician who laid the groundwork for the modern computer. He once foresaw that when machines could improve themselves faster than humans could, a “technological singularity” would occur — a point beyond which prediction itself becomes impossible. This is the moment to which Shostak points — the threshold where machine intelligence surpasses human understanding. When that day comes, will we shrink in fear, or rise to meet it? Will we become architects of wisdom, or relics of our own invention? History’s answer depends on the choices we make now.

So let the lesson of Seth Shostak’s words be this: progress is inevitable, but wisdom is not. The doubling of computer power is not merely a triumph of engineering, but a test of morality. We must ensure that what we create reflects not only our intellect, but our compassion; not only our ambition, but our humility. Let us not seek to compete with the thinking machines, but to coexist with them — to remember that intelligence without empathy is dangerous, and creation without purpose is hollow.

And thus, O listener, stand firm in the face of the coming age. Do not fear the rise of new minds, but prepare for it. Nurture your humanity as carefully as you nurture your inventions. For one day, when our artificial sentients awaken, it will not be our strength or speed they inherit, but our values — the wisdom we choose to teach them, or the folly we fail to restrain. The machines may indeed “leave us behind,” as Shostak foresees, but if we guide them with virtue, they will not abandon us — they will carry the light of our spirit further than we could ever have dreamed.