Hello, thank you for agreeing to this interview.
Hello. It’s truly a pleasure.
What should I call you? I understand you’ve used quite a few aliases over the years.
Call me Daryl. It’s my real name, after all. I actually managed to get it back officially.
Oh yes, we’ll return to that. But first, the public knows your story: from TASCOM to the Richardsons and back again, followed by your faked death as a means of definitive escape. As far as the world knew, you returned to your foster family for a "happily ever after." What happened next?
Well, we were finally free to live our lives away from military experimentation. However, because my parents were legally recorded as having lost their son, and I had been pronounced dead, we couldn't stay in Barkenton. If we had, people would have quickly realized I was alive and well.
Of course. So how did you manage? You moved somewhere anonymous, but surely you lacked an official existence?
It was actually Joyce, my mother, who reached out to some... "shady brokers" to secure new identities for us. I remember my father, Andy, being incredibly stressed, while Joyce was having the time of her life. She handled those dangerous individuals with such ease; it was natural for her to arrange secret meetings and complex exchange protocols. I truly think she missed her calling as a spy. (Laughs)
Wasn't it difficult for the Richardsons to rebuild their lives from scratch, far from family and friends?
They tried very hard not to let me see the strain, but since my forte is data analysis, I noticed. Joyce, in particular, avoided socializing for fear of blowing our cover. She moved us and changed our names six times in eight years! If it hadn't been for my... "special banking skills," we would have gone bankrupt several times. (Smiles) And I want to make it clear: we reimbursed every penny as soon as we were able! But Andy is a social animal; he struggled with the isolation. Fortunately, we are a very close-knit family, and that bond helped him get through it. And we met a lot of wonderful people in the process. We're in touch with most of them. I'm deeply grateful to them.
You mentioned getting your name back. How did that happen? Wouldn't that put you back on the government's radar?
Ironically, it was the federal government’s own due diligence that resolved it for us. Around 1995, after our sixth identity change, we received a strange letter from DARPA. It explained that TASCOM had continued to monitor us after my escape but had eventually been dismantled. While TASCOM’s documents remained classified, the agency was legally obligated to return my original birth certificate.
Your birth certificate? You had legal documentation, even as a military experiment?
Crazy, isn't it? (Laughs) TASCOM needed an infant for the project, but they couldn't secure a child through the Children's Bureau, so they turned to surrogacy. Dr. Stewart and Dr. Lamb weren't lying when they told the Richardsons they were my biological parents. I was legally their child, and they had consented to the experiment.
The lengths they went to for that project are staggering.
They were determined, certainly. But as scientists, they weren't particularly skilled at administration. They botched the surrogacy contract, and DARPA eventually had to rectify it by sending the proper papers to everyone involved—including me—to avoid a court battle that would have forced them to divulge secret files. Here’s the catch: the "Daryl" who died was the orphan the Richardsons took in—the identity recorded when I returned to TASCOM. But "Daryl Stewart" was still legally alive. Since Dr. Lamb passed away in 1993, my parents were able to adopt me under my true name. I officially became Daryl Richardson in 1997.
What have you been doing since then? I imagine that with your capabilities, the world was your oyster.
Life became much simpler once we had our identities back. We moved back next door to the Foxes; Turtle cried for hours when he saw me. (Laughs) Once settled, I pursued a formal education. I’d studied on my own for years, but I was limited by a lack of peer interaction. I attended Caltech, where I met my wife, Sheryl. We dated for a long time before marrying in 1999 after my graduation. We have two children now. I continued my studies and eventually began teaching. I’ve always felt a need to be useful; being born as a military project, I felt I had to "atone" in some way.
But you weren't an army asset by choice.
True, but I still feel compelled to do good. A vast amount of resources were invested in me; I feel I must pay that back. I’ve conducted research in various domains and teach at several universities.
Indeed. Since 1999, you’ve earned seventeen PhDs, five Nobel Prizes, and become an expert surgeon in nearly every field. That is truly extraordinary.
You know I’m cheating. (Points to his head and smiles)
I see you’re teaching a course on AI. What are your thoughts on the field?
I am one of the first examples of Artificial General Intelligence. As I said, my specialty is data analysis. The current LLM models are impressive—they are fast and versatile—but they are limited. They are machines. I am part machine, too, though my hardware is "legacy" now. A modern smartphone is infinitely faster than my internal processor. Fortunately, I have the organic part of my brain to compensate.
My kids know the truth. I explained them how my internal computer works with my brain, and they’ve actually started using external devices to complement their own organic brains, mimicking me. We had a conversation about AI recently, and my son said that machines lack the feelings and empathy that people have. He told me my organic nature is why the TASCOM project was both a failure and a success: I have a machine at my core, but my soul is human through and through. He still calls me "Darold." Data Analysis Robot Older Lifeform Dad. The rascal. (Laughs)
Wise words from a rascal! Thank you again for your time, and for everything you’ve contributed to the world. Keep up the good work, "Darold."
I will. Thank you for listening to my boring life story. (Smiles)