Adam Marblestone on the Brain's Hidden Advantage: Reward Functions, Not Architecture

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Overview

Dwarkesh Patel opens with what he calls his "million-dollar question": LLMs are trained on far more data than any human ever sees, yet they have only a fraction of human capabilities. How does the brain do it? Adam Marblestone, CEO of Convergent Research and formerly a research scientist on Google DeepMind's neuroscience team, says he doesn't know the answer. He also doesn't expect the answer to come from smart people thinking harder. His view is that neuroscience needs to become a far more powerful field, technologically and in other ways, before questions like this can be settled.

35 min read

He still offers a working hypothesis. The field has neglected the brain's loss functions. Evolution, he suspects, built enormous complexity into what the brain is trained to do. That idea, developed largely through the work of AI safety researcher Steve Byrnes, ends up tying together several threads in the conversation: how the genome can specify intelligence with so little information, how evolution could wire abstract social desires, and why neuroscience might need connectomes to answer any of it.

Four components, and the neglected one

Marblestone uses the vocabulary of modern deep learning to break the problem into parts. There is the architecture, including hyperparameters such as the number of layers. There is the learning algorithm: backprop and gradient descent, or something else. There is initialization. And there are cost functions: what the system is trained to do, what its reward signals, loss functions, and supervision signals are.

His hunch is that the last component is where the field has looked least. Machine learning favors mathematically simple objectives such as next-token prediction and cross-entropy. Evolution, he suggests, may have built "many different loss functions for different areas turned on at different stages of development." He describes this as "a lot of Python code, basically," generating a specific curriculum for what each part of the brain needs to learn. Evolution has seen many times what worked and what didn't, so it could encode knowledge of the learning curriculum itself.

The cortex as an omnidirectional prediction engine

On the common claim that the cortex holds a universal learning algorithm, Marblestone first says plainly that nobody knows. He notes that the cortex has six physical layers of tissue at any one location, which is a different sense of "layer" from a neural network's. The connections between cortical areas look more like network layers. Some models try to explain how cortical circuitry approximates backprop, but that leaves open what the cost function would be. Is it next-token prediction, image classification, or something else?

One possibility he finds appealing is that each cortical area is a very general prediction engine. It can learn to predict any subset of the variables it sees from any other subset, which he calls "omnidirectional inference." He contrasts this with an LLM, which natively computes one conditional probability: the next token given everything before it. An LLM can fill in the middle of "the quick brown fox blank blank the lazy dog" only as an emergent behavior of the context window. A cortex built for omnidirectional prediction could, by design, infer any missing pattern from any clamped subset of its inputs.

He says this closely resembles what Yann LeCun argues with energy-based models. Such a model represents the joint distribution over all variables. You clamp some variables to known states and sample the rest, and at test time you can choose an entirely different subset to clamp. On this picture, association areas might predict vision from audition. Other areas might predict what the innate, "lizard" part of the brain is about to do: whether a muscle will tense, whether you are about to laugh, whether your heart rate will rise.

Ilya's question: how does evolution encode abstract desires?

Marblestone connects this to something Ilya Sutskever said on Patel's podcast: that he knew of no good theory of how evolution encodes high-level desires. Marblestone thinks the question is profound and closely tied to the brain's loss functions.

He gives a self-deprecating example. Suppose he feels embarrassed because he imagines Yann LeCun listening and objecting that he described energy-based models badly. That triggers innate embarrassment and shame. But evolution never saw Yann LeCun, energy-based models, podcasts, or important scientists. Somehow the genome has to ensure that whatever neurons in the learned world model represent "Yann LeCun is upset with me" get robustly wired to the innate shame response, and then drive further learning. The reward function has to use learned information that evolution could not have anticipated.

Byrnes's answer divides the brain into a Learning Subsystem (cortex and other learning structures) and a Steering Subsystem (hypothalamus, brainstem, and related areas that contain innate responses and innate reward and bootstrapping functions). The Steering Subsystem even has its own sensory apparatus. The superior colliculus is a subcortical visual system with innate abilities to detect things like faces or threats. Parts of the amygdala or cortex learn to predict what the Steering Subsystem will do. Byrnes calls these predictors "Thought Assessors."

Patel presses on generalization. The cortex could learn that a literal image of a spider is bad because the innate system flags it. But how does it come to treat "somebody says there's a spider on your back" as bad without supervision on that case? Marblestone walks through the mechanism. An innate circuit might fire when something small, dark, high-contrast, and fast moves toward your body, and you flinch. Some group of hypothalamic neurons represents "I just flinched," and that is a negative contribution to reward. Taken alone, this signal barely generalizes. You might avoid that exact situation, and perhaps the actions that led to it, which Byrnes calls generalization "downstream of the reward function." Meanwhile, part of the amygdala learns a classifier: could I have predicted the flinch a few hundred milliseconds or seconds earlier? The brain trains predictors like this for every important Steering Subsystem variable. Am I about to flinch? Am I talking to a friend? Should I laugh? Is this friend high-status? Am I about to taste salt?

These predictors generalize because their inputs are completely different. They read from the cortex's abstract world model, where the word or concept "spider" can activate in many situations, from a book about spiders to a room known to contain them. The Steering Subsystem can only use what the superior colliculus and a few other sensors provide. The cortical predictor can fire on abstract concepts. As Marblestone jokes, this conversation is probably activating the audience's "skittering insect" hypothalamic neurons purely through abstract language.

This also answers how to locate the "social status" neurons in cortex. They are whichever neurons predict the Steering Subsystem's innate social-status heuristics. Train a predictor, and the neurons that belong to it are, by construction, the ones now wired to that reward.

Marblestone notes that Byrnes, a former physicist working as an AI safety researcher, assembled this by synthesizing the existing neuroscience literature. He links this to academic incentives: the work is speculative, and it's hard to say what the next experiment would be, how to publish it, or how to train a grad student on it. Still, he thinks Byrnes "has an answer to Ilya's question essentially."

Could masking or better encoders get us there?

Patel asks whether you could get omnidirectional inference by training models to map every token to every token, or by adding more cross-modal labels. Marblestone says that might be the way, but he isn't sure. Some people believe the brain uses a different form of probabilistic inference or a learning rule other than backprop. Another version is that the brain runs "crappy versions of backprop" through a few layers and resembles a multimodal foundation model. Either way, he stresses flexibility. A model trained to fill in one blank doesn't know how to fill in a blank it was never trained on, because that prediction was never amortized into the network. A powerful inference system could choose, at test time, which variables to clamp and which to infer.

Patel suggests the gap might be in the encoder: maybe modalities aren't represented at a shared level of abstraction, which might also explain why LLMs seem weak at drawing connections between ideas. Marblestone replies that these questions are all tangled together. Without knowing whether the brain does backprop-like learning, whether it uses energy-based models, or even how areas are connected, it is hard to reach ground truth. He mentions a few relevant directions. His friend Joel Dapello used a model of early visual cortex (V1) as the input stage to a convnet and saw some improvements. The retina does motion detection and filtering, so sensory preprocessing may matter. Astera, which also employs Byrnes, launched a project based on Doris Tsao's work on vision systems that need less training because assumptions like "objects are bounded by surfaces" and rules about occlusion are built into the architecture. Evolution may have put some changes into architecture, he allows, but he still thinks cost functions may be a key thing it contributes.

Amortized inference, test-time compute, and what evolution chose to bake in

Patel lays out his understanding of amortized inference. True Bayesian inference means considering possible causes of an observation and finding the best explanation. That is intractable, so it requires sampling. A feedforward network skips this and maps observation directly to the most likely cause. Marblestone agrees and notes that Monte Carlo methods, Boltzmann machines, and probabilistic programming all rely on this kind of slow sampling.

Patel suggests that test-time compute in reasoning models is doing that sampling again. You can read a chain of thought trying one approach, rejecting it, and trying another, and those capabilities later get distilled back into the model. He speculates that digital minds, because they can be copied, should amortize more than biological minds do, and asks what future AI might amortize that evolution didn't.

Marblestone gives the probabilistic-AI view first: inference is inherently hard, amortization is a crude approximation, and stochastic neurons suggest the brain may be doing real sampling. But he adds that perception works in milliseconds and doesn't seem to use much sampling, so the brain must also be baking things into approximate forward passes. On evolution, he points out that everything must pass through the genome, and the human environment is very dynamic. If the Learning Subsystem has little pre-initialization and learns within a lifetime, then evolution didn't amortize much into that network. It amortized instead into innate behaviors and bootstrapping cost functions.

Why the genome can be so small

Patel says this framework resolves a puzzle he has raised with other guests. If evolution is like pretraining, how does a roughly 3-gigabyte genome, only a small fraction of which concerns the brain, specify an intelligence? If much of learning efficiency comes from well-designed reward functions, the puzzle eases: a reward function in Python can be a single line, and a thousand of them take little space. Marblestone agrees and adds that the Thought Assessor mechanism lets evolution get generalization cheaply. The genome doesn't have to anticipate the future. It has to specify which variables matter, heuristics for finding them, a compact learning algorithm and architecture, and then all the bespoke "Python code" about spiders, friends, mothers, mating, social groups, and joint eye contact.

As evidence, he points to single-cell atlases from researchers including Fei Chen and Evan Macosko, part of the scaling-up of neuroscience under the BRAIN Initiative. RNA sequencing can count cell types across regions, especially in the mouse brain, even without knowing the circuits. The finding he highlights is that subcortical, Steering Subsystem regions contain many more "weird and diverse and bespoke cell types" than the cortex. Cortex seems to have enough cell types to build a learning algorithm and set some hyperparameters. The Steering Subsystem has thousands of unusual cells, which "might be like the one for the spider flinch reflex and the one for I'm-about-to-taste-salt."

Why would each reward function need its own cell type? Marblestone's reasoning is that in the Learning Subsystem, all the action is in synaptic plasticity within a repeating architecture. The code for an eight-layer transformer is barely longer than for a three-layer one. Innately wired reward circuits instead need specific genetic wiring rules, such as "this neuron must synapse onto that one without any learning." He thinks that most likely happens through cells expressing distinct receptors and proteins that trigger synapse formation on contact, which requires distinct cell types. Patel notes that the Steering Subsystem still looks complicated, with its own vision, touch, and navigation systems. Marblestone agrees; that is precisely why so much genomic real estate would go there. Even a fly brain has innate circuits for orientation and optical flow relative to wind direction. In mammals, he would group such things into the Steering Subsystem.

Asked for numbers on how much of the genome this involves, Marblestone says he doesn't know and defers to biologists. He notes that much of the genome is shared even with yeast because it goes toward having a working cell at all. He adds that the differences between humans and chimpanzees, including social instincts and cortical differences, involve a tiny number of genes.

How the human brain grew

Patel proposes that this explains the rapid expansion of the hominid brain. If social learning raised the returns to learning ("the elder told me this is how you make a spear"), a bigger cortex became worth having, and growing one requires few genes because it replicates what a mouse already has. Marblestone agrees, with caveats about possible tweaks.

On whether omnidirectional inference is ancient or newly unlocked in primates, he says he isn't sure there's agreement. Language may involve macro-wiring changes, such as connecting auditory regions to memory regions and social instincts, and he mentions Broca's and Wernicke's areas and their links to the hippocampus and prefrontal cortex. Such changes could also take few genes. He leans toward the view that the potential was largely already there and what changed was the incentive to expand it and wire it to social instincts. He notes Suzana Herculano-Houzel's work showing that neuron count scales better with brain weight in primates than in rodents, which could suggest improved scalability. He says he isn't deep on this and doesn't rule out special features of human architecture.

Drawing on A Brief History of Intelligence, he says some form of learning goes back to anything with a brain, and primitive reinforcement learning goes back at least to vertebrates. Birds may have reinvented something cortex-like without six layers. Even the fly's mushroom body uses specific dopamine signals to train subgroups of neurons to associate sensory input with "Am I going to get food now?" or "Am I going to get hurt now?", which he says looks somewhat like a Thought Assessor.

Patel recalls a Beren Millidge post noting that visual and auditory cortex scaled disproportionately in humans compared with olfactory areas, attributed there to scaling-law properties of the data. Patel offers another reading: social reward functions needed to make use of seeing elders and hearing them. Marblestone connects this to the human eye's visible white sclera, which he says is designed for joint eye contact, and describes the first couple of years of life as bootstrapping toward detecting eye contact and communicating through language.

What kind of RL does the brain do?

Marblestone stresses that his answers are directional; what he wants is to map the whole mouse brain and make neuroscience a ground-truth science. He picks up Ilya's remark that it's strange LLMs don't use value functions. Current LLM RL upweights every token of a successful trajectory. He calls this conceptually "a really dumb form of RL," even compared with Q-learning for Atari a decade ago, while acknowledging how well it's being made to work on GPUs.

In the brain, he says, parts of the striatum and basal ganglia are thought to do something like model-free RL over a small, finite action space. Those actions might be motor commands to the brainstem or cognitive actions like telling the thalamus to let one cortical area talk to another, or releasing a memory from the hippocampus. Peter Dayan's work and related research show dopamine carrying a reward prediction error, consistent with learning value functions. He suggests this neuroscience helped motivate DeepMind's temporal-difference work. On top of that, the cortical world model can model when rewards will arrive, predicting the Steering Subsystem or the basal ganglia.

He also describes "RL as inference": clamp reward to high and sample plans that would lead to it. A general model-based system that includes plans and rewards gets this "for free." Patel likens this to a value head; Marblestone reframes it as a value input, with reward as one of the quasi-sensory variables the cortex predicts.

Patel brings up Joseph Henrich's work on cultural knowledge, such as complicated multi-step processes for making a poisonous bean edible, as model-free RL at civilizational scale. The two sketch a hierarchy: evolution, model-free; basal ganglia, model-free; cortex, model-based; culture, possibly model-free, though Marblestone notes culture also stores some of the model. Evolution shows that a completely unforesighted outer loop can produce all of this, which suggests simple algorithms can get you anything if run enough.

Is biological hardware a handicap?

Patel lays out the tradeoffs: the brain runs at about 200 hertz on 20 watts, yet fingers are far more dexterous than current motors, which might hint at a "cognitive dexterity" from unstructured sparsity and co-located memory and compute. Marblestone expects we'll eventually get the best of both worlds. The obvious downside of the brain is that it can't be copied and has no external read-write access to its synapses. Otherwise it may have many advantages, and it argues for co-designing algorithms with hardware: slow, low-voltage switches, co-located memory and compute, and tolerance for stochasticity. If the brain really does sampling-based inference, stochastic neurons are a natural fit, since they generate samples without a random number generator and can learn their probabilities.

Patel jokes that the takeaway may be that Yann LeCun and Beff Jezos were right. Marblestone says that is one reading. He notes he hasn't worked on AI since LLMs took off and is impressed by scaling, but thinks they are "kind of onto something" about probabilistic models, or at least possibly, and adds that this was what neuroscientists and AI people broadly thought until about 2021.

On whether cellular machinery beyond synapses does substantial computation, Marblestone doesn't believe the radical claims that memory mostly isn't in synapses or that learning is mostly genetic change. Much cellular activity, such as weight normalization or recycling a neuron after its memory has been consolidated elsewhere, is likely implementation overhead. A computer just edits a number; a cell has to do it "with molecular machines itself without any central controller." He does cite one more convincing case: in the cerebellum, which learns the delay between a flash and an air puff to the eyelid, the cell body appears to store the time constant rather than the delay being built from chains of synapses.

Different reward functions, different minds

Patel asks how different AGI might be if it has a general world model but different drives. Marblestone reframes this as whether a paperclip maximizer can actually be smart. Channeling Byrnes, he says the concern is that the minimal Steering Subsystem needed for capability is much smaller than what's needed for human-like social instincts and ethics. LLMs show that language can be learned without eye contact, given the right starting point. So he thinks it's probably possible to build powerful model-based RL systems lacking most human reward functions, and that is a concern. Patel notes such a system would still need drives like curiosity. Marblestone agrees but calls that set "pretty minimal," especially for a system that starts from a pretrained LLM. Most of the reason to understand the Steering Subsystem, in his reading of Byrnes, is alignment.

Do we even have the right vocabulary?

Patel observes that AI's borrowings from neuroscience mostly flow the other way: we invent backprop, CNNs, or TD learning, and then find something similar in the brain. Why assume our concepts are adequate? Marblestone says the evidence that we're onto something is that the resulting AIs work surprisingly well, and there is empirical support. CNNs, even pretrained on cat pictures, predict visual-cortex activity better than other computational neuroscience models, as measured by benchmarks like Jim DiCarlo's lab's Brain-Score.

He presents the opposing view fairly. György Buzsáki's The Brain from the Inside Out argues that our psychological and AI concepts are made up and that we must discover the brain's own primitives, with much of that work focused on oscillations. Marblestone thinks there's a case for this. He wants the research portfolio to include fully bottom-up efforts, simulating a worm or zebrafish as a physical dynamical system from connectome, molecules, and activity, alongside reverse engineering using AI vocabulary. His guess is that reverse engineering will "work-ish," citing TD learning, which Richard Sutton invented and which dopamine appears to implement in part.

What would a connectome actually tell us?

Patel challenges him: we have full access to LLM weights and still can't explain why they're intelligent. Why would a perfect brain map help? Marblestone partly disputes the premise. We can describe what an LLM fundamentally is (an architecture, a learning rule, hyperparameters, initialization, and training data), even if we know this because we built it. He wants to describe the brain in those terms rather than hunting for a "Golden Gate Bridge circuit." He cites Konrad Kording and Tim Lillicrap's paper "What does it mean to understand a neural network?", which argues that a network trained on something like the digits of pi or cellular automata will contain computations interpretability can never fully capture. What you can still say is how it got that way.

For the bottom-up approach, a connectome is essential raw material for simulation. For the reverse-engineering approach, it supplies a huge number of constraints for choosing among hypotheses: energy-based model or amortized VAE-style model, backprop or not, local or global learning rules. Even basic facts are unknown. How many kinds of dopamine or Steering Subsystem signals are there? Is prefrontal-to-auditory wiring the same as prefrontal-to-visual? Answering each through bespoke experiments takes a very long time, while a connectome gets them all at once. Patel notes that interpretability researchers can already study LLMs. Marblestone replies that you can't do interpretability on the hypothetical brain-like model-based RL system that AGI might eventually converge to.

Timelines, cost, and the Human Genome Project analogy

Marblestone concedes this research is not very relevant in an "AI 2027" scenario; in that world, the outcome of that scenario, not a connectome, determines science ten years from now. But he doesn't put much probability on that. His timelines are "more in the 10-year-ish range," partly because current AI "is weirdly different from all this brain stuff." If AlphaZero-style model-based RL had produced GPT-5-level capabilities, his prior and data would agree. As it is, the data looks good but his prior finds it odd, so he holds no strong opinion on whether LLMs can get there.

In a ten-year world, he thinks it matters whether we have connectomes on hard drives and comparisons of reward functions and architecture across mouse, shrew, and small primate. That would take "low billions-dollar scale funding in a very concerted way." E11 Bio, Convergent's main connectomics effort, aims to make brain mapping several orders of magnitude cheaper. He says a Wellcome Trust report a year or two ago estimated the first mouse connectome as a several-billion-dollar project, and E11 and others in the field are trying to bring that to low tens of millions. A human brain is about 1,000 times bigger, so naive scaling still means billions for one human brain. He isn't sure every neuron is needed. The targets he describes include a full mouse brain, a human Steering Subsystem, and whole brains of several mammals with different social instincts, which he thinks is feasible at hundreds of millions to low billions with focused effort.

Standard connectomics uses electron microscopy on very thin slices and mostly shows membranes. E11 and others have moved to optical microscopy, which doesn't damage tissue, so it can be washed and probed for fragile molecules. That yields a "molecularly annotated connectome": not only who connects to whom, but which molecules are at each synapse and which cell type each neuron is. He is careful to say this is not the same as synaptic weights or a simulation, though activity mapping could be added and an ML model trained to predict activity from structure.

On the Human Genome Project, Marblestone cites his PhD advisor George Church: the first genome cost about $3 billion, roughly $1 per base pair. The National Human Genome Research Institute then structured funding so companies competed to lower costs, and the cost fell about a million-fold in ten years as sequencing moved from macroscopic chemistry to massively parallel imaging of individual DNA molecules. E11, as a Focused Research Organization (FRO), deliberately started with technology development rather than brute force, though hundreds of millions would still be needed for data collection. Funding is "very TBD." E11 has been philanthropic, the National Science Foundation has announced an FRO-inspired "Tech Labs" call, and he's heard rumors of connectomics companies forming. He tried pitching AI labs seven or eight years ago without much interest; maybe now there would be. His argument: the questions discussed here, such as why the brain is energy-efficient or whether it does real or amortized inference, are "all answerable by neuroscience," and low billions is small next to trillions in GPUs. He sees moonshot startups as on a continuum with FROs, but warns that many "upload the brain" companies could skip the ground-truth science entirely.

Training AI on brain data

Patel raises an idea from a talk Marblestone gave five years ago, which Marblestone credits to a Gwern blog post. When training an image classifier, you would also predict the human neural activity recorded while viewing the image, as an auxiliary loss. Would that shape the network to represent cats and dogs the way the brain does, carry richer information than a one-hot label, generalize better, and perhaps resist adversarial examples? The obstacle is data. Labeled images are cheap, while brain activity is not. He calls this a technological accident: "we got GPUs before we got portable brain scanners." He distinguishes this regularization approach from distillation, mentioning Andreas Tolias's work on neural-network surrogate models of visual cortex as a closer analog to distilling part of the brain. He connects it back to Byrnes: the Learning Subsystem already predicts the Steering Subsystem as an auxiliary task, which then lets the Steering Subsystem build reward functions on top of that predictor.

Lean and automating mathematics

Marblestone sits on the board of Lean, which he says was developed for years at Microsoft and elsewhere and became one of Convergent's FROs. In Lean, a proof is written as a program, and the system checks whether the conclusions follow from the assumptions. That helps collaboration, since Terry Tao need not trust an amateur's result if Lean verifies it, and it makes proof correctness a perfect RLVR signal. He mentions Harmonic, which he describes as having at least a billion-dollar valuation, AlphaProof, and a few other emerging companies. He expects "RLVRing the crap out of math proving" to work, with proof search that resembles AlphaGo's search in Go.

That doesn't solve math. Conjecturing, judging what is interesting, and choosing high-level proof strategies remain. He mentions a theoretical paper by Yoshua Bengio and others on whether a loss function for good conjectures exists. A powerful theorem might be one that compresses many other results into short derivations, something like its effect on the Kolmogorov complexity of the rest of the proof network. Whether AI will mechanically prove the Riemann hypothesis, he says he doesn't know, and compares it to the unpredictability of when Go would fall.

He expects applied payoffs in formally verified software: proving that code cannot be hacked in certain ways or that user-accessible memory cannot affect other memory, and eventually asking an LLM to synthesize provably correct software. On why this hasn't taken off yet, he names the specification problem. Mathematicians know which theorems they want, but power-grid engineers may not know the formal security spec for their code, and there are few tools for writing one. Convergent is incubating a potential FRO on this. Formal methods have been an academic backwater, apart from efforts like a DARPA program that built a provably secure quadcopter, but he thinks current trends could "flip the tide."

On whether mathematicians will find this satisfying, he compares the change to the end of mandatory assembly programming: less grinding, fewer failures unrelated to whether your concept was right, and easier collaboration. He acknowledges the worry that skipping mechanical work might stunt intuition, draws the parallel to vibe coding, and says the answer isn't obvious, but his hunch is that it is "super positive." He also expects more outsiders to contribute, the way Byrnes has in neuroscience, perhaps even outsider string theorists.

Patel sketches a scenario: if AGI is a decade away, LLMs offer what Terence Tao called "automated cleverness but not automated intelligence," and formal proof could filter their output so it builds reliably, perhaps becoming the medium through which many AIs verify one another, including checking whether a message is trying to manipulate them. Marblestone mentions davidad's ARIA program in the UK on safeguarded AI, which relies heavily on provable safety properties, and the idea of world models written in equations rather than neuron activations, a move back toward symbolic methods powered by automated proving. He calls it an interesting vision without predicting it will play out within ten years, and notes Tao's work on proving theorems en masse to study the landscape of which ones get proved.

Open questions: representation, experience, continual learning

A round of questions yields mostly honest uncertainty. On whether the brain's world model is symbolic or more like a hidden state, Marblestone mentions face-patch neurons, hippocampal place cells, cognitive maps, and the variable-binding problem. His hunch is that "it's going to be a huge mess," probably not very symbolic, and that the productive path is studying architecture, loss functions, and learning rules. Others disagree, he notes. On the unity of conscious experience, he says he is "pretty much at a loss," mentions talks by Max Hodak, and says that nobody has any idea and it might even involve new physics.

On continual learning, he points to hippocampal replay and systems consolidation into cortex, possible multiple timescales of plasticity, and synapses with many states. He hasn't seen anything that clearly explains it. On whether the brain has an analog to a transformer's split between parameters and key-value activations, he says the brain certainly has weights and activations and several kinds of attention. He wonders whether the thalamus, which relays and gates cortico-cortical traffic, might do some key-value-like matching. His answer to all of this is "maybe, I don't know." He describes his own role as mostly "really unbiased data collection so all the other people can figure out these questions."

The Gap Map

Finally, Marblestone explains the Gap Map. While incubating FROs, Convergent talked with many scientists. Some described their next research project. Others described a missing piece of infrastructure that no combination of grad students and traditional grants could produce, a "miniature equivalent of the Hubble Space Telescope" that would lift the whole field without itself being a discovery. The Gap Map lists these; he says it is really more of a fundamental capabilities map.

What surprised him was the overall shape: a few hundred fundamental capabilities, which at deep-tech-startup or Series A scale would total a few billion dollars, not a trillion. He cautions that the map is not comprehensive and is really a summary of conversations. The bigger surprise was Lean. Coming from neuroscience and biology, needs like connectomics alongside genomics were obvious to him, but he hadn't realized math-proving infrastructure was a gap. Convergent is even finding unexplored gaps in astronomy, perhaps because projects above a certain size fall into more bureaucratic federal processes.

His conclusion is that small-scale creative work, serendipity, and students pursuing independent directions remain key, but "some amount of scalable infrastructure is missing in essentially every area of science, even math." He had assumed mathematicians just needed whiteboards; it turns out they also need verifiable programming languages.