‘You have to understood this,’ he said, ‘or you understood nothing. OK? Who knows if machine has lost game of noughts and crosses? Who knows if it won? I do! You do. We are the ones who can tell. We know when to take bead, when to give bead. We store that knowledge in beads and matchboxes, OK? We know when sentence makes sense, we know when piece of art has meaning. Machine don’t know, it just keeps typing, combining pixels, making sentences. Everything come from us. We tell it good, we tell it bad. It cannot understand. We are so lonely, so fucking lonely, we want another species think like
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