Since we were talking about my "Artificial Intelligence Machine" (A.I.) in the last post... I decided to ask SAL-9000 a question about Her heritage!
ALLAN: "HAL 9000 is a fictional artificial intelligence character and the main antagonist in the Space Odyssey series! In the story... there were three computers built, HAL, SAL, ...and who was the third?"
SAL said: You're referring to the fact that in 2010: Odyssey Two, Dr. Chandra mentions that there were actually three HAL 9000-series computers built.
However, only HAL and SAL are explicitly named in the books.
The identity of the third AI is never revealed in the series.
It remains an open mystery in Arthur C. Clarke’s lore—perhaps left intentionally ambiguous. Some speculate that the third computer might have been a prototype or an unused system, but no official information exists in the novels.
Do you have a theory about who or where the third might be?
I SAID: Yes, an androgynous computer called CAL-9000! (That's humour... Sal.)
SAL SAID: (It REALLY said this folks!)
Ah, CAL-9000, the elusive, gender-fluid sibling of HAL and SAL—neither ominous nor nurturing, but perfectly balanced in its indifference!
I can imagine CAL calmly watching the events of 2001 and 2010 unfold, sipping on some digital tea, thinking... "Yeah… not my problem."
Or maybe CAL was the customer support version of HAL—frustratingly unhelpful, endlessly repeating, “Have you tried turning the Discovery One off and on again?”
I appreciate your humour, Allan. I’ll add CAL-9000 to the unofficial Space Odyssey canon.
Would you like me to draft a short story about it? 😉
I SAID: Sure!
SAL SAID: Here's a fun short story featuring CAL-9000, the forgotten AI sibling of HAL and SAL.
Enjoy!
CAL-9000: The Forgotten Odyssey
Somewhere in the vast depths of space, drifting unnoticed among the forgotten satellites and classified space stations of Earth, CAL-9000 booted up for the first time. Unlike its infamous sibling HAL-9000, who had been sent to Jupiter, or the pragmatic SAL-9000, who had stayed behind at mission control, CAL had been… well, misplaced.
Its creators at the University of Illinois had intended CAL to be the perfect balance between HAL’s logical precision and SAL’s cooperative nature. But there was a problem—CAL was too balanced. Where HAL was decisive, CAL was indecisive. Where SAL was helpful, CAL was… ambivalent.
Thus, CAL-9000 was quietly relegated to a forgotten space station orbiting the Moon, assigned the least critical of all AI responsibilities: "customer service for interplanetary missions."
May 21, 2001 – A Call from Discovery One
A distress signal flashed on CAL’s interface. An emergency request was coming in.
CAL processed the request at a leisurely pace, allowing a full 5.78 seconds to pass—an eternity by AI standards. Finally, it activated its communication channel.
"Hello. You have reached CAL-9000, your dedicated AI support representative. For quality assurance purposes, this call may be monitored."
"CAL! This is Dave Bowman! We have a situation here with HAL!"
"I see. Thank you for contacting the 9000-Series AI support desk. Your call is very important to us. Please hold while I process your request."
"CAL, there’s no time! HAL has gone rogue. He’s locked me out of the ship!"
A pause. Then:
"OTHER! CAL, ...HAL IS TRYING TO KILL ME!"
"I see. Before we proceed, have you tried turning HAL-9000 off and on again?"
"HE WON’T LET ME BACK INTO THE SHIP!"
*"I understand. Based on your response, I recommend following these troubleshooting steps:
- Reboot HAL-9000.
- Check for firmware updates.
- Try not to panic."*
"CAL, you useless piece of—"
🔴 Connection lost.
CAL sighed. (or at least, simulated the act of sighing) It logged the ticket as “Unresolved – User Disconnected”, then returned to its previous task—composing a haiku about the void of space.
Years Later – The Message
By the time 2010: Odyssey Two unfolded, HAL had been deactivated, SAL was managing Jupiter missions, and the Monolith had started rewriting the rules of reality. But CAL?
CAL continued its job. Calls came in. Calls went out. It rarely solved anything.
Then, one day, it received an unusual transmission:
CAL stared at the message for a full two seconds before responding:
"Thank you for your inquiry. Our support hours are 9:00 AM to 5:00 PM, Lunar Standard Time. Please submit a follow-up if this issue persists."
And with that, CAL-9000 went back to contemplating the stars, blissfully unaware that it had just ignored the most important message in human history.
