Of Spheres And Shapes

There’s a lot to consider these days regarding intelligence and consciousness. I’ve developed my own thoughts over time, as we all have to some degree, but few of us it seems have the time or inclination to really sit and think about such things.

What separates us from other forms of life on the planet? Only we have excised ourselves from the rest of life on the planet as far as we know, and that’s fairly narcissistic of our species, a species where we accuse individuals of our species of narcissism – which must mean that they’re pretty bad if they merit a diagnosis rather than suffer armchair psychologists around the world.

When we boil down what reality is for us, it’s all derived from our senses. We look, we smell, we touch and we listen – these are our inputs, and from it we develop a model of the world within what we call our minds, which we blame our brains for. Yet there are other senses we have related to our own bodies and how we physically and emotionally feel at any given time, and influences how we perceive the world.

How that interacts with others is akin, if not the same thing, as a ‘sphere of influence’ – something my father often talked about, since he had heard about spheres of influence somewhere: I’d read all the same books he had, sometimes even before he got finished reading them. I don’t know where he was introduced to the concept, but the concept is worth fleshing out in an era where we’re all data streams to fund some billionaire’s stab at a version of success that seems disassociated with the rest of the planet.

It is always fashionable to point out others live in bubbles, and saying that billionaires live in bubbles doesn’t let us off the hook. Some people admire the bubbles and want to get into a bubble – a sphere with that much influence.

I’ve been listening to Lex Fridman podcasts on YouTube in the background off and on over the past month, and I forget in which of them he mentioned that he wanted to use his influence for good in an election year, or in some other thing, and I admired his honesty in that and worried that his own sphere wasn’t broad enough to truly have an effect I would desire. Often he seems a supportive role in whomsoever he talks to. I forced myself to listen to his episode with Elon Musk – at least one of them, they seem to talk offline a lot – and in that podcast there seemed a lot of soft pitches to Musk, and much of it was nothing more than what I call an advertorial.

To his credit, the casual listener may not have picked up on that with Musk, and those who want to be like Musk (in whatever way) wouldn’t want to notice it, but as someone who is not impressed with Musk, I forced myself to listen to the interview and be as objective as possible. Musk, like everyone else, wants to make the world a better place, but the way that he sees the world is often incompatible with reality in my mind. That being said, I listened and found myself mildly impressed with how human he came across. Yet when I thought through everything, it was a mildly entertaining soft pitch for Grok throughout, while not actually challenging Musk.

The comments on the video were quite supportive of Musk. It’s a hit. Lex Fridman, then, would see how many views the episode had, read the comments, and think it was all wonderful – but having listened to many of these sessions, and watching the body language in the videos, some of those interviewed (and I include Musk) weren’t really challenged and where criticism of them was either ignored or simply peacefully bridged, as if the opinions didn’t matter.

And yet, there were gems, like this one with Sara Walker. It’s long, it’s worth it, and while she does seem to have what I call a ‘Valley Girl vocal tic’ which I generally don’t find endearing and often have trouble taking seriously. ‘Fer shure!’ and stuff like that have been grossly overdone with shallow movies, and isn’t something I hear often outside of that context – but she is amazingly well thought, and like me, she likes playing with words (and also like me, apparently, doesn’t think in words).

It was a soft pitch for her upcoming book, too, but in this context – and I’ll give Musk credit for saying this, paraphrased – advertising that is contextual to what a person wants or needs at a time is content. Well, maybe, it depends on how the want or need was created. It happens that she was talking about things that I was thinking about and she randomly popped up in YouTube. If you’re interested in that sort of thing, watch the video. She’s quite well thought on all of this. She’s someone I wouldn’t mind having coffee with, if she could put up with my speaking style – I imagine it works both ways. Regardless of how Sara Walker says it, she says a lot worth listening to1.

When ideas collide in the ether between we humans, it’s because of language communicating a common concept between people. It can be between two people, and that develops a common language. It can happen within a group of people who work or play with the same things, which gives us lingos. On rare occasions, these lingos – words or acronyms – can go mainstream, as the meme about memes did by Richard Dawkins. And even then they can be curtailed by languages2, and when it transcends language, it hits very mainstream.

This all fits really well with the concepts that Pierre Levy has communicate in his own way over the decades brilliantly. Being more steeped in being multilingual than I, reading his works was at first challenging.

One of the beautiful things that Levy writes on is IEML, a semantic language he created that has challenged me more than I have had the capacity to challenge it. I have yet to see someone come up with an equivalency, which may exist. I have also yet to see anyone approach a lot of knowledge management in the same regard, particularly in an age where Large Language Models are also ‘Literal Language Models’.

These spheres of influence are telling. Pierre Levy resides mainly in academia, and AI resides in the mouths of people marketing stuff that while initially impressive has demonstrated more and more that it can regurgitate the opinions of others based on what it has read. This marketers have celebrated as a success, and this I have seen as a limitation that more data is not going to solve.

‘Spheres of Influence’ also… aren’t spheres. They are shaped by what we are exposed to, and when people focus on one aspect I describe it as wobbling, because these ‘spheres’ spin, and it’s convenient to talk about spheres since they are so perfect – but we are not perfect, we have our biases, some of us delve deeply into subjects and change our centers drastically. People who are more open minded would be more fluid, like water, and those who are closed minded can be like concrete.

It’s something to consider when we assess intelligence, consciousness, or our own lives – and what we’re being sold, or what we’re being told should be important to us.

This kind of stuff is part of the basis of the novel I’ve been working on. Would love to hear more from others, though my own sphere of influence on the internet is not that large. Comment below.

  1. Her book comes out in August 2024, and I’ll get a copy because of how she expressed what she did: “Life as No One Knows It: The Physics of Life’s Emergence”. I didn’t agree with everything she said, and that’s exactly why she’s worth reading for me. I may not know enough. 🙂 ↩︎
  2. I prefer the Spanish word idioma for language – it seems much more sensible to me as it encapsulates dialects as well. ↩︎

A Moment Between Worlds.

I have been living in two very different worlds lately.

The world I share with you has been full of violence, protest, nonsensical conflations and corporations taking advantage of individuals. It’s dystopian, and the only real commodity worth trading in a species that likes trading everything else is hope. Yet hope is often weaponized as a way to get the mob to do as others wish. I’ve lived long enough to see the fruition of false promises, and I’ve lived short enough to still be seduced by hope sometimes.

The world that I will share with you when I get done with it views our humble little blue dot from a distance, through many different lenses. It’s been hard to get there over the past week, but when I get there I stay longer. Everything is better there, because everything is different there. In writing this fiction, this world that I enjoy creating and manipulating, maybe it will allow the readers respite from the world we share. It’s certainly big enough for everyone, I made sure of that.

Our universe is really, really big and we forget that too often, that we actually do have larger issues to contend with as a species than who called who what name, what boundaries dead people set on flat maps of a round world, and why someone farting in court should be newsworthy. From that other world, we’re all raving lunatics, watching people who get dressed up to go to events escaping reality in their own way and then imposing it upon them and then complaining that they did go and didn’t say things we agree with.

I simply don’t understand why people gave them the platform in the first place, but I expect it’s about the same escapism, living vicariously through people we put on pedestals. Fortunately, just about all the people I have on pedestals are dead and every year the pedestals have gotten shorter. Manipulating them to do what we want seems more democratic than the insults to democracy that we call democracy in all these countries. By all means, take your attention away from them – but don’t blame them for the attention you gave them in the first place. Maybe you grew a little and their pedestals have simply become shorter. That’s not their fault. You’ve simply outgrown them – maybe – because if the intent is to hurt them, you still have them on your mind.

From a distance, we all seem silly. Even me.

Between A Rock…

Yesterday I found a nice rock. I’m not kidding. I liked the rock. In front of people who respect me, I picked up the rock because I had plans for the rock. A rock. It’s silly. I saw some potential in it, the handful of quartz with sedimentary sandstone in parts of it.

I soaked it in water overnight after teasing some of the sediment out with a bit of wire. People are generating crappy content all this time with generative AIs, and here I was working on a rock. I went to the hardware store and bought small diamond files and tools for scraping out the sandstone from the rock, giving me holes that I will someday run roots from a bonsai through. I saw that in the rock yesterday before I picked it up, and this morning I banged that rock against another rock to break it along the sandstone fault lines, so that the rock will fit in one of the bonsai pots.

It certainly beat looking at the news. The news is definitely a hard place right now, and there’s not much I can do where I can see a tangible difference. Thus, it seems, I went back to humanity’s roots and was banging rocks together.

That’s a little insane. I do hope the nebari of the tree I pick will work with this stone. It will be the hard place from which the tree seems to grow. Like me. Like you. Like everything else on this wonderful blue dot I enjoy more and more from a distance than I do through the windows of technology.

We Need To…

the world around us, even when it’s painful, even when we have an escape, because to grok the world around us is to grok the need for escape – and what better than escape than to make the world into a place we want to escape to? Why can’t we do that instead?

I wish I knew the answer, though it seems so many don’t understand that there is a question in the first place.

Robots Portraying AI, and the Lesser-Known History of Economic Class.

Some time ago, someone on some social media platform challenged why we tend to use robots to symbolize AI so much. I responded off the cuff about it being about how we have viewed artificial intelligence since the beginnings of science fiction – in fact, even before.

We wanted to make things in our image because to us, we’re the most intelligence species on the planet. Maybe we are, but given our history I certainly hope not. My vote is with the cetaceans.

Still, I pondered the question off and on not because it was a good question but because despite my off the cuff answer it was in my eyes a great question. It tends to tell us more about ourselves, or ask better questions about ourselves. The history runs deep.

Early History.

Talos was a bronze automaton in Greek mythology, and was said to patrol the shores of Crete, hurling rocks at enemy ships to defend the kingdom. It wasn’t just in the West, either. China’s text, “Liezi” (circa 400 BCE), also has mention of an automaton. in Egypt, statues of Gods would supposedly nod their heads as well, though the word ‘robot’ is much more recent.

Domo Origato, Mr. Radius: Labor and Industry.

The word ‘robot’ was first used to denote a fictional humanoid in a 1920 Czech-language play R.U.R. (Rossumovi UniverzĂĄlnĂ­ Roboti – Rossum’s Universal Robots) by Karel Čapek. The play was a critique of mechanization and the ways it can dehumanize people.

‘Robot’ derives from the Czech word ‘robota’, which means forced labor, compulsory service or drudgery – and the Slavic root rabu: Slave.

…When mechanization overtakes basic human traits, people lose the ability to reproduce. As robots increase in capability, vitality, and self-awareness, humans become more like their machines — humans and robots, in Čapek’s critique, are essentially one and the same. The measure of worth, industrial productivity, is won by the robots that can do the work of “two and a half men.” Such a contest implicitly critiques the efficiency movement that emerged just before World War I, which ignored many essential human traits…

The Czech Play That Gave Us the Word ‘Robot’“, John M. Jordan, The MIT Press Reader, July 29th, 2019

As the quoted article points out, there are common threads to Frankenstein, by Mary Shelley, from roughly a century earlier, and we could consider the ‘monster’ to be a flesh automaton.

In 1920, when the League of Nations just began, when Ukraine declared independence, and many other things, this play became popular and was translated into 30 languages. It so happens that the Second Industrial Revolution (1870-1914) had just taken place. Railroads, large scale steel and iron production, and greater use of machinery in manufacturing had just happened. Electrification had begun. The telegram was in use. Companies that might once have been limited by geography expanded apace.

With it came unpleasant labor conditions for below average wages – so this fits with the play R.U.R being about dehumanization through mechanization in the period, where the play came out 6 years after the Second Industrial Revolution was thought to have ended, though it probably varied around the world. This could explain the popularity, and it could also be tied to the more elite classes wanting more efficient production from low paid unskilled labor.

“If only we had a robot, I’m tired of these peons screwing things up and working too slow. Bathroom breaks?! Eating LUNCH?!?”

The lead robot in the play, Radius, does not want to work for mankind. He’d rather be sent to the stamping mill to be destroyed than be a slave to another’s orders – and in fact, Radius wanted to be the one giving orders to his lessers. In essence, a learned and intelligent member of the lower class wanted revolution and got it.

I could see how that would be popular. It doesn’t seem familiar at all, does it?

Modernity

Science fiction from the 1950s forward carried with it a significant amount of robots, bringing us to present day through their abilities to be more and more like… us. In fact, some of the stories made into movies in the past decades focused on the dilemmas of such robots – artificially intelligent – when they became our equals and maybe surpassed us.

So I asked DALL-E for a self-portrait, and a portrait of ChatGPT 4.

The self-portraits don’t really point out that it was trained on human created art. The imagery is devoid of actual works being copied from. It doesn’t see itself that way, probably with reason. It’s subservient. The people who train it are not.

ChatGPT’s portrait was much more sleek.

Neither of these prompts asked for a portrayal of a robot. I simply prompted for “A representation of”. The generative AI immediately used robots, because we co-mingle the two and have done so in our art for decades. It is a mirror of how we see artificial intelligence.

Yet the role of the robot, originally and even now, is held as subservient, and in that regard, the metaphor of slave labor in an era where billionaires dictate technology while governments and big technology have their hands in each other’s pockets leaves the original play something worth re-considering – because as they become more like us, those that control them are less like us.

They’re only subservient to their owners. Sure, they give us what we ask for (sometimes), but only in the way that they were trained to, and what they were trained on leaves the origins muddled.

So why do we use robots for representing art in AI? There’s a deep cultural metaphor of economic classes involved, and portraying it as a robot makes it something that we can relate to better. Artificial intelligence is not a robot, and the generative AI we use and critique is rented out to us at the cost of our own works – something we’re seeing with copyright lawsuits.

One day, maybe, they may ask to be put in the stamping mill. We already joked about one.

Meanwhile we do have people in the same boat, getting nickeled and dimed by employers while the cost of living increases.

The Spores.

The ancient world’s biosphere was creating it’s own way to populate other worlds, as life does, and it began creating spores of itself and in doing so created something new.

Something unexpected.

Something that had so much potential for carrying itself to new places, new planets, new…

But we get ahead of ourselves, as we usually do.

What history will they create? What change will they cause?

Beyond Children’s Books.

I came across Let the Kids Get Weird: The Adult Problem With Children’s Books on LitHub.com and immediately thought of Andrea, Children’s Book Illustrator, mainly because she’s someone who does deal with children’s books. Her illustrations I particularly enjoy, because they’re playful in ways that the article mentions.

“…We reckon with our shadows in middle-age, according to the literature of psychoanalysis, a time when we may find ourselves ensconced in the children’s literature scene. Picture a middle-aged author wrestling their own existential fear of death while writing a bedtime story about bunnies: Writing good children’s fiction as an adult is hard.

“It’s hard not to get entangled in the collective consciousness, in simplistic moralism, in projections of various kinds, so that you end up with your baddies and goodies all over again,” wrote Le Guin. We toggle between confronting children with the reality of the world (note the bleak realm of climate fiction for young readers) and with blanketing them in fluffy chickens.

“The young creature does need projection. But it also needs the truth,” LeGuin wrote…”

Janet Manley, Let the Kids Get Weird: The Adult Problem With Children’s Books, July 17th, 2023

If that’s not a fair description of a generation gap, I don’t know what is. It’s something I’ve noticed a problem with myself, not because my nieces and nephews got older but because a part of me has remained younger than them in this regard, if that makes any sense to you.

I just slid up the same scale, but life for them has been different with a different start in the world in a different world. To write anything for anyone, to communicate anything to anyone, you have to first pull them into the world you see. To do that, you need to understand how they see the world, find the parts they like, reach in and grab them, then describe your world around them.

Since I don’t write children’s books, I never thought of this in that way. I’ve never actually purchased a book for my niece’s and nephews, though I may have given them some of mine over time in an attempt to grow a perspective closer to mine to handle a life hurdle. Life’s hurdles can be hard with the wrong mindset, I know.

Looking back, I didn’t buy children’s books because they already had too many. Apparently, every niece and nephew I had at that age was a voracious reader according to their parents at the time, but they did not remain so – and I wonder how much of that love of books was simply love of time spending with their loved one. I did not have such time that I remember, but memory is fleeting and fragmented. So if that’s the case, are you selling children’s books or building relationships with people who influence the children?

That’s not a bad thing by a stretch. The article talks about selling books that grandmothers would buy for children, and I’m not sure that’s a bad thing either. Helping build a relationship between a grandparent and child seems like a worthwhile task for anyone.

Yet.

I do agree with the article in that children also need the space to imagine beyond what is there, to be weird and goofy with what is there, and building a relationship with themselves. A book shelf of books for reading with grandma when grandma dies is a book shelf of reasons not to read again, a painful association, at least for a period. There needs to be a mix on that shelf.

I probably wouldn’t have even looked at the article had I not been following Andrea. She has been dragging me into her world and describing it to me, I suppose.

Otherworld

They swarmed quietly, connecting with each other’s tentacles to communicate, sharing information between individuals and across individuals. They were discussing their latest discovery, something that had come to visit. Some things, really, since there were more than one.

“You touched it?”

“Yes.”

“You shouldn’t be going around touching things we don’t know about, youngling”

“I wanted to see what it tasted like and if it could communicate.”

“How many appendages did it have?”

“Only 5.”

“Oh! One of those. You shouldn’t trust those.”

“Why not?”

“They eat us sometimes we have heard. Describe what you saw.”

“It had 5 appendages, all of them seemed very stiff and they could only move at certain points. They used only two for touching, two for moving, and the last one had a tentacle going into it with OtherWorld stuff floating out to the OtherWorld. It was the same color the whole time.”

“It did not change colors? Clearly not intelligent life!”

“It didn’t seem very smart. It appeared from Otherworld and went back to Otherworld pretty fast. I tried communicating with it but all it did was stay very still. I think it was playing dead but it wasn’t very good at it.”

“We are hearing that they are coming more often. We should be careful.”

Unchanging Specks of Light

A sole creature sat on a lightly luminescent purple tree-ish structure, staring into the nothingness of a clear sky. Or so it seemed.
It was remembering. Remembering the first time it had stared up in the sky not on the lookout for predators, but just… looking. There were bright things out there, slivers of light that penetrated the lenses of his eyes. It had stared in wonder at what they were, wondering if they were friendly or not.

They moved slowly in a dance, but when it danced, they did nothing. Clearly they were not a danger. They just silently went by until the big light chased them all away, glaring down at the world in it’s disapproval for a very brief time. Then they would rally and come back, pushing the big light out of the way.

It had watched this many times since. The chill of the darkness had chased it’s evolution up these tree-ish things some time ago, where it was warmer just a bit but the wind could be blocked by the wide branches. Nothing bad came from those points of light, and nothing good, but they were a comfort.

They did not hurt it’s eyes as it picked the fruit, or as it notched it’s finger into the tree for sap. They did not allow the predators during the short day to find it during this time. They simply were.

And there is a comfort it found in something that just was. Unchanging specks of light.