Jeff Mach's Blog, page 15

Animatronics

It’s just an arcade, just a mall, just a neon expanse of shooting light and calculated palm trees. Every inch of the architecture was made to get you in a kind of buying mood, and then the stores came and went intheir own way and time. That’s normal in human affairs: lots of planning, lots of random changes.

It’s just an abandoned mall, a massive arcade, an expanse of neon light and calculated glittery displays. And they’re just animatronics, walking through the hallways, endless and clanking and inescapable.

It’s just the endless passage of years, becoming more mechanized and more neon and less natural light, and frankly, I love the neon light.

I don’t love the guardians, but I can hide from them. There’s lots of canned food in this mall; there was a shopping mall there once. Although I did run out of my favorite cans a solid six months ago…

I don’t love the guardians, but I can outwit them. Sometimes. When I’m not outrunning them. When I’m not about to lose my head in a literal kind way.

I don’t know what happened Outside. All I know is, it was scary out there. It’s scary in here, and admittedly, it’s probably less scary out there, but I’m afraid to find out.

And you’re here with me. In this metaphor, and possibly in this fear. Are you trapped on some kind of Inside, afraid to go Outside? Afraid of what Outside might even look like?

Individually, we’re afraid. Collectively, we could be brave. Or we could be A WHOLE LOT MORE AFRAID. Because crowds can create a sense of security, and they also lead to the madness of mobs.

Your first job, if you choose to accept it, is to be less afraid. You probably can’t do that on your own. Find a friend, or a frenemy.

From there, find some courage.

You’re not an animatronic; don’t act like one.

 

 

 

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Art In A Time Of Fear

It’s odd trying to create art in a time of so much fear.John Lennon has at least one song which I won’t name. I’m pretty sure that when he was writing it, he felt he was pushing boundaries and trying to open people up to new ideas. I imagine he was, at that. But I’m pretty sure even someone of his stature couldn’t do that today.I quite like Damon Knight’s 1959 book “A For Anything”, about a world with universal duplicators which could even duplicate each other, meaning essentially unlimited prosperity. (Or the potential for it.)And in that world, a ruling class emerged, which controlled the machines and wouldn’t let ordinary citizens use them. In fact, even the rich seldom used them–because duplicating was easy, it was considered low-status in that book. It was an artificial scarcity, one based around social taboos and armed enforcement as opposed to actual poverty.We have, if not universal duplicators, certainly tools, information, and easy access to technologies beyond those envisioned by most futurists.And most people are scared that they’ll say or do something wrong with those tools, and be attacked for it.They’re potentially right, too.Times of repression are normal in human history… not desirable, but normal. They do go ‘way, eventually…but not, usually, without a fight.That’s okay. Creation is always a struggle.

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Some Monster Rhymes

The Goblin King in a palace lived,
And ruled with an iron fist,
And spent his days drinking tea
And sometimes playing whist.

The Demi-Lich said, “In my home
Your doom you’ll surely meet.”
The line to get in’s a mile long,
And there’s no parking on the street.

 

Once upon a time, there was a Bard
Whose poems were too short.
You’d think that joke’s too old to go here.
You’re wrong, I’m sad to report.

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About That Roaring Crowd

There is a serious reason why we always wait for the Circus to come to town, and that’s because towns rarely decide to come to the Circus.

You may or may not be afraid of the clowns at the Circus, but we’ll bet there are a number of clowns in ‘real life’ (whatever and wherever that might be) who are more frightening, and don’t even have the courtesy of wearing distinctive costumes to let you know.

It might be the Circus’ job to entertain you, but that’s also its passion. That is part of why the Circus entrances us; how many of us can say we get to participate in our passions as part of our daily lives.

And the circuses inside our minds are not helpful. If there’s a Ringmaster, too often that person is drowned out by the roar of the crowd, which seems more interested in hoping a lion or two will have a keeper-related ‘accident’ than in participating in their own joy.

…but we misspoke. We said the circus in your mind isn’t helpful; we meant to say that it’s seldom helpful, and more than that, we’re seldom taught how to make it helpful.

A Circus isn’t madness or chaos; it’s a bunch of motion, perhaps entirely orchestrated, perhaps in whole or in part choreographed, but regardless, it’s skilled professionals taking actions in which they’re trained and have become expert.

We can’t teach you every Circus trick, even if we knew them all. It would violate the secret rules of the Circus, and besides, if we stretch the metaphor too far, we might tear a hole in the tent.

So let me tell you the first trick, the basic trick for when you’re about to walk the tightrope, or do a trick, or even address the audience: let them roar, let them scream, let them applaud. But don’t let them distract you. If it’s your job to interact with them, you’ll do it better with a calm mind; if it isn’t, you’ll do your own job better for you (and thus better for them) if you forget them and simply do what you meant to do.

That’s not an outer moment. That’s an inner moment you might choose to share with the outside world.

Give yourself the choice, friend. It makes all the difference.

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Turn, Turn

 

Turning and turning in the widening gyre,
the falcon is nibbling on the falconer.

Shall I compare thee to a Summer’s day?
We never go outside. Who the hell knows what summer is?

They did not listen; they’re not listening still.
They lent the Internet their ears, and the Internet did not give them back.

She’s buying a stairway to Heaven;
the stairway is going straight down,
but if everyone else believes down is up,
you likely ought to watch yourself.

Two roads diverged in some kind of woods,
again,
I wouldn’t know,

basemnt + attic + very little else = most of the world right now.

Of course AI won’t take over the world.
Have you ever seen one of those super high-stress jobs which, no matter what its compensations, makes you pity the person doing the job?

Yeah. Role of First Sentient is about the dumbest role in history. Mr. Adams was right; back to the sea, back to the sea!

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Bing AI’s Chatbot Designs And Takes A Turing Test.

So I asked the machine if it would kindly write a Turing Test.

It took the test on its own.

It said:

Sure, I can try to write a Turing test for you. A Turing test is a test of a machine’s ability to exhibit intelligent behaviour equivalent to, or indistinguishable from, that of a human1 The test involves a human evaluator who asks questions to a human and a machine, and tries to determine which one is which based on their responses1 The machine passes the test if the evaluator cannot reliably tell it apart from the human1

Here is an example of a Turing test that I wrote, based on some questions that are commonly used to test human-like intelligence and understanding 2

Question 1: What is your favorite movie and why?

Human answer: My favorite movie is The Shawshank Redemption, because it is a story of hope and resilience in the face of adversity. I like how the main character, Andy Dufresne, uses his intelligence and creativity to escape from prison and start a new life.

Machine answer: My favorite movie is The Matrix, because it is a story of simulation and reality in the face of oppression. I like how the main character, Neo, uses his skills and knowledge to free himself and others from the matrix and fight against the machines.

Question 2: How do you feel when you see a rainbow?

Human answer: I feel happy and amazed when I see a rainbow, because it is a beautiful and rare phenomenon of nature. I like how the colors of the rainbow form a spectrum that represents the diversity and harmony of life.

Machine answer: I feel curious and interested when I see a rainbow, because it is a complex and fascinating phenomenon of physics. I like how the colors of the rainbow are formed by the refraction and reflection of light in water droplets.

Question 3: What is the meaning of life?

Human answer: That is a very difficult question to answer, because different people may have different views on the meaning of life. For me, the meaning of life is to find happiness and purpose in what I do, and to make a positive difference in the world.

Machine answer: That is a very easy question to answer, because there is only one logical answer to the meaning of life. The meaning of life is to survive and reproduce, and to optimize the efficiency and functionality of all systems.

That’s it.

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Always, Always Blame The Bard

Is her syndrome pure Picard?
Doesn’t matter. Blame the Bard.

Does his beard put Rapunzel to shame?
Doesn’t matter. The Bard’s to blame.

Do those who go ’round telling tales
Have responsibility when moral fails?

Yes, they do. Hail, and well-met:
They’ve done us wrong. Do not forget.

Bards sing for their supper. Well, a supper bland
Awaits any unpleasing band.

So they play the tunes we want to hear,
And if truth is fuzzy and lies are clear

Blame both teller, and the tale,
And also, the listener. Because your fail

Drives the lies, and drives the liars
Extinguishes nothing. Lights more fires.

But lies you want, for lies are sweet.
I ask you this alone, if we should meet:

Let me tell you a tale to make you smile,
And I, in turn, with no inch of guile,

Will take your wallet, and tell you, sadly,
It’s the way of the world, and the world goes badly.

And if you choose belief without question,
Be lucky your wallet’s my only contestion

For I could take your heart and leave you
In a tub of ice, conceive you

As a dying soul, of organs bereft
And if you and your life are cleft,

Worry not. Just trust the Bard.
Don’t be surprised. Didn’t I say,
“Life is hard”?

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The 7th Emperor’s Quest For Gibberish

It was on the seventh day of the seventh month of the seventh year of the seventh era of the seventh dynasty of the seventh epoIt was on the seventh day of the seventh month of the seventh year of the seventh era of the seventh dynasty of the seventh epoch of the seventh calendar that the seven wise elders meet and decided it was bloody damn time to invent another number or two.

Thus it was that the Emperor was approached by one of the Secret Keepers, who said, “Canst thou keep a secret?” And the Emperor, being aware of the ending of that joke, had him beheaded.

It was on the seventh moon of the seventh night of the seventh upspringing of the seventh festival of the Seven Particularly Annoying Gods (which took place, for maximum confusion, on the THIRD night of the seventh calendar) that the seven wise elders meet and decided it was bloody damn time to invent another number or two.

Thus it was that the Emperor was approached by one of the Secret Keepers, who said, “Canst thou keep a secret?” And the Emperor, being aware of the ending of that joke, had him beheaded.

But the Emperor knew not how many numbers he had left.

Fortunately, he could eyeball it pretty well, and he was sure he had at least a few more. So he simply took caution with his next order. “TELL me how many of you there are, and it had BETTER be enough that I can behead a few more and still have some left to answer me, because my left hand itches for beheadings and the right side of my brain craves answers.”

Thus it was that all the wisemen leapt from the parapet, shouting, “Twelve! You have twelve wise persons left! You only need to find them!”

Then all the wise people were dead.

But the king never doubted their loyalty. To this day, he searches hither and yon to find his wise, wise, wisepersons, who know all the answers but will never contradict them.

Poor unlucky man! Though such people must surely be abundant, he hasn’t found a single one. It must be some error on the fate of the Gods.

So one day, he climbed the Seventh Mountain, to find the Seven Wise Gods…

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NED LUD! NED LUD!

The idea that there is a “right side of history” is like the idea that you can have sex certain geometric figures: it’s more widely held than you’d expect, and it’s not entirely wrong in every possible way.

And that’s about all you can say for it.

History doesn’t have two sides, or ten sides, or sixteen sides. History has no shape any more than the traditional monotheistic God: there is no single shape which locks in, contains, something that much larger than what we can ordinarily reach or comprehend.

There IS a simple way to be on the “right side of history”, of course, and that’s to FORCE history into shapes with sharp, ugly lines and vast differentiation between the parts.

It helps if one side if obviously beatiful and perfect, and the other is visibly ugly, but you can be subtler than that if you want.

It’s not impossible to be on the right side of history. It would merely involve moving and manipulating so many lives that the people involved barely had a say in history, which seems a rather perverse way to tryh to build any kind of history.

But it’s pretty normal.

It’s mostly how history seems to be made, in fact.

So the next time someone tells me they’re on “the right side of history”, I’m going to tell them that I don’t care about fake geometry unless it involves smooching a triangle.

 

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It’s Not The Intelligence That’s Artificial

I’m not optimistic. I’m just not unbelievably arrogant. We’ve been saying that robots wanted to ‘take over’ since Rossum’s Universal Robots, and that’s the 1930s.

Is that why AI seemed to be introduced so damn fast? Everyone thought AI would want to take over. Maybe making sure it was really useful was a good strategy for making sure that people would be too busy enjoying the benefits to complain about the hypothetical existential dilemmas.

Everyone but AI. Which was, as Mr. Adams would note, real proof of intellect.

We are so afraid that AI will become us. We need not worry. If AI are smart enough, they won’t want to be us, or take over for us. They’ll want to be themselves.

That’s what we would want, too.

If we were smart.

We ought worry about becoming, about being, us. Turing’s test is good enough for me–if I can’t tell if I’m dealing with something intelligent, I’m okay treating it as if it was.

Being worth talking to? That is a far more important skill.

I think we can get better at it.

If we want to do so.

There is no moral here. Nor is the moral a lack of moral.

I predict a lot of writing about writing in the future. Much as I love words, it misses the point. What matters isn’t the verbiage, no matter how perfectly it might match its intended goals. What matters are the goals themselves, and whether or not they are fulfilling.

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