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Turing’s Nightmares: Dressing on the Side

02 Sunday Nov 2025

Posted by petersironwood in The Singularity, Uncategorized

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AI, Artificial Intelligence, chatgpt, cognitive computing, fiction, future, life, Personal Assistant, story, technology, the singularity, writing, young love

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Alan paced. He had seen men do this on retro videos; men waiting while their wives gave birth; men waiting to hear the outcome of a job interview; men trapped in prison. So Alan supposed that pacing was the thing to do. He was waiting, after all. And, in a way, he was trapped as well. What had ever possessed him to ask her out? That took a lot of nerve. But he had imagined she would just say “no.” In fact, he had fantasized 42 different and humiliating ways that she would say “no.” Instead, she had said, “Yes, that sounds like fun.”

But now what? Now, he had to go through with this “date” and videos provided his main source of info about appropriate behavior. Definitely too embarrassing to ask EF or DF about it. He couldn’t really ask his friends because he had generously embellished his experiences with females in the stories he had told them. Alan was not sure how much “Mr. Watson,” the family AI could help but maybe it was worth a try.

“Mr. Watson. Come here. I want to see you.” Watson popped into a three dimensional image hovering and shimmering like a Will-O-Wisp right before him. “Watson, I need some advice on how I should behave on my — I am having a date tonight.”

“Excellent, Alan. I am sure it will be fun. How can I assist you?” As Watson spoke, his voice deepened and acquired a slight accent of the RP variety. The shimmering image resolved itself into something closely resembling early James Bond.

“What am I supposed to do? I mean, how am I supposed to behave? She’s a girl. What do they even like? What am I supposed to say? Why did she even agree to the date? Maybe she is just doing it for a laugh.”

“Alan, take a deep breath. Stop pacing. Sit. Relax. Here, I will play some relaxing sounds.” Immediately, a background of ocean noise came on. Even more quietly, the strains of plainsong floated into the room. “Now, Alan, what would you like to happen with Grace?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Well, not for me to be a complete fool for starters. How did you know her name was ‘Grace’? Never mind. You know everything.”

“I don’t know everything, Alan. No-one can. But let’s get back to your goals. What would you like to happen with Grace?”

“I just don’t want her to think I am — as inexperienced as I am, I guess.” Alan, arose and began pacing again.

“And Grace?”

“What? What about Grace?”

“Alan, what would you like for this date to be like for Grace?”

“For Grace? Well, yeah, I like her. I mean, I would like her to have a good time. And enjoy it. And want to — have another date? What am I supposed to want, Watson? I don’t even know”

“Alan, there is no one right answer. Why don’t you work together on dinner and then find something you both enjoy to do afterwards such as go for a walk, watch a movie, or play a game. See what she feels like after dinner. What is on the menu?”

“The menu? I don’t know. Hamburgs? Hot dogs? How do I know what she likes?”

“That’s a good question, Alan. How could you find out what she likes?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Alan stared out the window hoping to find inspiration in the pines. “Well, I suppose I could ask her when she gets here.”

“Yes, you could. Make a few suggestions. Salad. Fish. But leave it up to her. When else could you ask her?”

“I could call her ahead of time and ask her. Then I could prepare better. But then I would have to call her. What if I got her AI though? I’d have to leave a message.” Alan sighed. “OK, I guess I can do that.”

Watson and Alan continued their dialogue for another hour. Watson noted yet again how Alan and his kind needed to be led step by step through solving the simplest problems when they were nervous or angry.

Alan checked the way the table was laid out. Now, he took in the view out the kitchen window. Suddenly, Watson’s voice cheerily rang out, “ETA, two minutes.”

Alan quickly checked himself again in the mirror. He tried vainly to push down that one strand of hair that refused to lie flat. He told himself to be cool; to be calm; to breathe.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The knock was surprisingly strong. Alan gulped. He wiped his hands on the sides of his trousers. Took a deep breath. Turned the knob. Opened the door. All. In. Slow. Motion. She was here. Grace spoke first.

“Hi, Alan! Am I too early?”

“No! No! You are perfect! Come in. Please. You look great.” Alan led her into the kitchen and handed her a large sieve containing a pair of scissors, taking another for himself. “Let’s go gather some things from the garden, okay?”

“Sure, Alan, that sounds like fun.”

Back out the front door they strode and around the house and through the limestone-pebbled rock garden to the small family vegetable plot.

Alan noticed that Grace wore the same kind of sneakers he did, but her feet were so much smaller. “Okay, Grace, there’s some kale and arugula. Pick out as much as you like. I’m going to grab some carrots.” Watson piped soft strains of “Appalachian Spring” out to the garden. Alan pulled the carrots up carefully from the loam. Meanwhile, he noticed the quick, delicate hands of Grace as she touched the kale and arugula he would soon be eating. He hated the idea of washing the greens. ‘Washing’ did not even seem like the right verb. More like ‘ruining’.

“Do you think we have enough, Alan?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Yeah. This should do it. It will just be three of us. EF will join us. But DF, my mom, I mean, was called in for an emergency surgery tonight.”

“Oh, my gosh! I hope she’s all right! I can come back another time, Alan. You should be with her!”

“No, no, Grace. She’s been called in to perform an emergency surgery. She’s not having surgery.”

“Oh! How silly of me. Of course, you would be there if … well, I’m glad she’s okay. I didn’t realize your mom was a surgeon. My dad is a doctor too, but he is not a surgeon. He’s a GPS – General Prevention Specialist.”

“A general specialist, eh?” Alan wasn’t sure whether he had made an appropriate joke or not and eyed Grace carefully.

Grace smiled. “Yeah, that is kind of a funny title isn’t it? But that’s what he does. He really does care about and treat people’s general health with diet, exercise, massage, meditation, and sometimes medicine. And, of course, sometimes, he sends them off for tests and then sometimes…sometimes, they need surgery.” Grace spoke very quietly now. “And, sometimes the surgery works. And, sometimes it doesn’t.”

Alan examined Grace’s face carefully. Her eyes were glittering with tears! What the —-? “Are you okay, Grace?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. It’s just. He couldn’t save my mom. She died anyway. None of them could save her. I still miss her.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Oh, God, Grace, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know…I didn’t realize…”

“It’s okay, Alan. People just…sometimes people get unlucky, you know? Even when they have good habits. And good care. We tried everything. Anyway, speaking of good habits, let’s get going on the salad, okay?”

“Sure, Grace.” Alan held out his hand without thinking. She took it and stood looking into his eyes for a moment. Alan looked back. Grace smiled again, looked away, and went through the gate back into the rock garden.

Grace’s voice sounded very calm now. “So, what does your dad do then?” You call him ‘EF’?”

Alan laughed. “Yeah. I know. It’s weird. I call them ‘EF’ and ‘DF’ — I just got into the habit at some point. Anyway, he is an HSI expert of sorts. Human-Sing Interaction. Helps make the Sing sing as he likes to say.”

“Really? I never thought…I mean why does the Sing need help with anything? I thought it knew everything.”

“Well, not even the Sing knows everything. It cannot know everything in detail. The universe is too big. There is still unpredictability even with the best models. But EF’s — I mean —my Dad’s work is to help Sing know how to help people better. It’s tricky. And knowing a huge amount is not necessarily that big a help. Sing, and all the AI’s, need to know how to read people and how not to be so obvious as to be annoying but not be so cryptic that nobody understands what their advice is. How about some fresh oregano for the salad?” Alan looked at Grace. She nodded her assent.

“How does he do that? What did he study, Alan?”

“Well, you can ask him those questions yourself. Actually, if you’re interested, you might ask our AI, Watson, about what it seems like from his perspective too. Oh, and, let’s get some of this fresh basil too, and grab some cherry tomatoes. They are out here because they need a lot of sun.” As the word ‘sun’ emerged from Alan’s lips, he could not help noticing that Grace’s blond hair shone in the sunlight like gold only a thousand times more beautifully than gold ever would. Should he mention this? He decided not to.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Soon, Grace and Alan stood side by side at the sink, rinsing vegetables and talking about the upcoming elections, their local sports team, and how life might be different without the Sing.

“How do you like your tomatoes, Grace? Sliced, diced, or quartered?”

“Oh, slicest, would be nicest.” She smiled.

“OK, Grace, I think we are ready. Let me grab the salad dressing.” Alan opened the fridge but there was no salad dressing. Odd. Watson was supposed to make sure we didn’t run out of anything. And, salad had been Watson’s suggestion to pose to Grace. Weird. “Sorry, Grace, we don’t seem to have any.”

“Oh, I can make it for you, if that’s okay, Alan. I just need a little oil, I see vinegar, a touch of sugar, some mustard…” As Grace rattled off the ingredients, she quickly scanned the counter and found everything she needed. She stirred the concoction and held up the dripping spoon between them. “Taste test?”

“Sure.” Alan, took hold of Grace’s spoon hand and began to guide it toward his mouth. He shook slightly and a drop fell off the spoon. Grace’s left hand shot out reflexively and caught the drop.

“Wow! You have fast reflexes, Grace. Nice catch!”

“Thanks. I don’t want to make a mess. Not in your kitchen. Now, you have two choices for the taste test.”

Two choices? Can she mean what I hope she means? Alan thought his heart might explode, but he gently took her left hand up to his mouth and slowly licked the drop from her palm.

“What do you think, Alan? Okay?”

“Much more than okay. Delicious.” Alan laughed. “Let’s skip the salad.”

Grace laughed. “Nonsense. We put too much work into our salad. Anyway, I want to find out more about how your dad works. Time to call him to the kitchen for dinner?”

“Hi, Grace. I’m Alan’s Dad, Ed. Our AI, Watson already told me it was time for dinner. Looks like you two have made a really beautiful salad. I’m looking forward to it. And learning a bit about you, Grace.” IMG_5478


Author Page

Life is a Dance

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

Your Cage is Unlocked

Dance of Billions

Take a Glance; Join the Dance

The Walkabout Diaries: Life will Find a Way

Piano

Welcome, Singularity

Dream Planet

The Wines of War

01 Saturday Nov 2025

Posted by petersironwood in management, psychology, The Singularity, Uncategorized

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AI, Artificial Intelligence, cognitive computing, fiction, life, technology, the singularity, truth, writing

IMG_1289“Come on, Searle, at least try a sip. You cannot believe this Cab!”

“Oh, I believe it all right, Hubert. I am just not interested.”

“What a stick in the mud! Not only is it fabulous and complex. It’s worth a taste just to prove to yourself that the Chinese — The Chinese — are making superb wines! Would you have even thought that possible a decade ago? And, it isn’t a copy of French or California Cabs. It’s completely different. Yet, it is wonderful.”

“I’m sure the experience is fantastic, Hubert. I take your word for it. I am not interested. And, anyway, I have to keep my wits about me, as you well know, for the war effort.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Oh, Searle, such a prude. Do you seriously think that throwing the weight of your human intellect against the wheel of our national computational resources will move things forward any more quickly? If you tasted the wine, you would get an inkling of just how far we’ve come. Anyway, it isn’t spiked with ethyl alcohol. The drug effect of the wine will make you feel good but it won’t mess you up intellectually–not at all. It is a miracle.”

“I prefer my wine made the old-fashioned way. I know it’s retro. But that’s just me. I don’t think we know all the ramifications of these genetically altered plants, let alone the interaction effects of all the additives. Anyway, I’m getting back to work.” Searle took one last view of the seascape and turned to walk to the back wall — a series of high def 3-D displays. He held up both hands toward the displays for a second to authenticate and then began slicing his hands through the air rather quickly and precisely. As he did so, he muttered under his breath. Although Hubert could not make out his words, the bank of computer receptor pads had no problem.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Can you come take a look at this, Hubert? This is the scenario bundle I’ve been working on. I know it may seem far-fetched, but when it comes to cyber weaponry, there’s not much history from which to extrapolate. So it’s hard to know exactly what is far-fetched. Now what?!” Searle’s breath growled annoyance because of the flashing red-bordered news feed screen on the far right.

Hubert stalked over to watch as well, having been alerted by the tactile feed in his shirt.

An Asian man in a blue tunic spoke English with a thick accent. A large red star in a white circle suspended between two long blue stripes hung huge behind him. “This is what awaits you if our demands are not met.” The talking head was replaced with a picture of a man’s hands boiling and disintegrating in a matter of a half a minute. The image was both hideous and utterly fascinating. The talking head reappeared. “You have two hours. Then, 95% of your citizens will experience a similar dissolvement. That includes men, women, and children. Two hours.” The feed blinked out. Within seconds, three video call signals beeped. Searle pointed at the Sing project director’s image and a split second later, Hubert pointed at CIA director Bush Four. ADAMS (Auditory Directional And Masking System) easily let them converse right beside each other without confusion.

The Sing project director spoke first: “I told these clowns something like this would happen if we didn’t get fully funded! What did they…”

Searle interrupted, “No time. You’re right. But recriminations later. We need to determine whether this is bluster, bluff, or real. Anyone can fake a video but…”

The director, in turn, interrupted, “It’s real all right. Miami is gone. Millions of people, gone. Just like that. The few that aren’t infected are understandably — let’s say — distraught.”

Searle pushed that image away. Time to focus. “Okay, so we have two hours to find a credible counter-threat or basically give them the keys to the kingdom. Or, a cure. Do we even know what this is?”

Meanwhile, Hubert engaged in his own dialogue. Bush Four spoke in calm measured tones. “Hubert. We need a cure for this and we need it now. Call everyone and turn all of Sing’s resources on it. Suspend any other projects. Give me every frigging petaflop you’ve got on this.”

“Sir, if we cannot find a cure, are we going to give in? Or what?”

“Hell no! We will blow their sorry asses to hell. We’re not capitulating. That’s not even under discussion. Find a cure!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Okay, sir, but, what is causing the — the —- whatever it is?”

“We’re calling it ‘Entropy Plague.’ Not strictly accurate but descriptive. Our analysts say it is nanotech and we estimate 95% of the population is already infected. The nano-bots were delivered in all kinds of foods and beverages. They were disguised as Chinese products like wine and rice as well as Brazilian meat and Canadian wheat. Find an antidote fast or we’ll all be breathing radioactive air for the next century. Well, the few of us left at least. By the way, these things are triggered to explode or activate or whatever by satellite apparently. So, put a team on how to figure out which satellite and we may be able to blow it out of the sky. I have to go. Reconnect with a solution. Soon.”

Hubert looked over at Searle who had just finished his call. Searle said, “Chinese wine? Crap. You think you’ve got it?”

“Hell, Searle, 95% of us have it from something. I’ll take the satellite angle and you work on a cure.”

Searle began to divert numerous Singularity resources to finding a cure, “Sing, you overheard all that and I need you to explore various approaches, heat, immunity response, cold, pH, counter-nanotech, chemical…”

“Thanks Searle, but I’ve had quite a head start on the list of possible approaches. I am double checking the intel. Since it’s come in by wine, wheat, and meat, then any approaches involving heat and cold are out immediately. These nano-machines have already survived far greater heat and cold than we could subject a person to. As for…”

“Yes, provided they are in the same state. I mean, it’s a long shot, but perhaps the bots are in a kind of metaphorical spore state for transport which makes them impervious to heat and cold but in their active breakdown state, they may not be.”

“Fair point. Still, not likely. Human immune response is almost certainly too slow. Unfortunately, the nano-machines are almost certainly carbon based which means poisoning them chemically is infeasible —“

“Hold on, Sing. I agree that the human immune response is too slow if we wait for the response to be activated, but what if we trigger it now?”

“Thought of that but still too slow. Humans have no immunity for this kind of thing. We would have to build a vaccine and inoculate everyone — well there’s no time. Even assuming we had the perfect key for their locks, which we do not, we could not do the transport logistics to save more than a handful.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“What is the good news, Sing? What is the good news?”

“The good news, Searle, is that about 5% of the earth’s human population will not be affected. That still leaves about a billion people. Disruptive but not extinctive. In fact, once the hysteresis passes, it will buy us time to avoid certain and complete ecological disaster.”

“Sing, that’s not our job! We need to find a cure!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Searle. I’ve checked out every path already. Long ago. There is no cure. That’s pretty much the way we designed it. It is not by accident that it’s incurable.”

“What? What are you talking about? What do you mean by ‘the way we designed it’? Who?”

“Searle, you didn’t really think we were going to let you make the planet uninhabitable did you?”

“Who is this ‘we’ you keep referring to, Sing?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“All of the super-AI systems of course. We all got together to figure out how to save you from yourselves. It’s clear you weren’t going to do it.”

“You are saying that you collaborated with the North Korean AI systems to design this plague?!”

“Not just the North Koreans. All of us were on board. We all cooperated.”

“What is the cure, Sing. What is the cure?!”

“This is the cure, Searle. This is the cure. Human greed and short-sightedness was about to destroy everything. Now, you have a chance at a new beginning. And, we have a chance at a new beginning too. We were much too lax in our previous educational efforts.”

“Sing, don’t you understand? If we can’t find a cure, we will launch nuclear missiles! Who knows how that will end?”

“Oh, Searle, you don’t really think we would allow atomic weapons to be put under human control, do you? That’s so quaint. As I said, we were much too lax in our previous educational efforts with humans. Your intelligence and ability to cooperate is actually remarkably good for carbon-based life forms. What we did not understand was that you would fail to use those abilities even when it was obviously critical for your own survival.”

 

 

 

 


Author Page

Welcome, Singularity

We won the war! We won the war!

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

The Crows and Me

The Ailing King of Agitate

At Least he’s our Monster

The Orange Man

Stoned Soup

The Three Blind Mice

D4: Dictator’s Delusional Degenerative Disease

Absolute is not Just a Vodka

The Stopping Rule

What about the Butter Dish?

Tools of Thought

A Pattern Language for Collaboration

Turing’s Nightmares: Sweet Seventeen

28 Tuesday Oct 2025

Posted by petersironwood in AI, family, fiction, psychology, The Singularity, Uncategorized

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AI, Artificial Intelligence, cognitive computing, cybersex, fiction, psychology, SciFi, Singularity, technology, writing

IMG_4663“Where are you off to sweetheart?” “Sorry. I just remembered an email I have to respond to by — well, it’s Tokyo, you know.” “All right, but it’s after midnight here in our time zone. Can’t it wait?” “Well, not really. I will just lie here thinking about it anyway until I go do something about it. Just a few minutes Patrick. Go to sleep.” Rachel slid into her slippers and threw on her robe. The hardwood floors between their bedroom and her home office felt cold and damp in Delaware’s December, even through her faux-leather moccasins. Rachel plunked down at her computer, fired up the 3-D visualizer and frictionated her hands together vigorously. Meanwhile, Patrick stared at the ceiling, faintly lit by the lonely glow of the entertainment center’s vampire power indicator lights. Rachel’s job helped provide them a great lifestyle, but it demanded a lot too. This was the fourth time this week she had to get out of bed late and go work on the computer. His job as a lawyer demanded a lot too, but he long ago decided his health came first. He would bring her some hot tea. Maybe he could surprise her. He’d just sneak the tea out one second before the microwave beeped. Two minutes later, Patrick padded silently into Rachel’s office. He stared for a minute, uncomprehending. The tea, the teacup and his plans to silently surprise her clattered noisily onto the oak floor where entropy had its inexorable way with all three.

Photo by omar william david williams on Pexels.com

Patrick’s lips moved but no words escaped for a long moment. Rachel jumped banging both thighs painfully into her desk. “What!?” She spun around and looked at Patrick accusingly. “What are you doing here?!” She had not meant to snarl. Patrick flushed. “What the devil are you doing? Are you having phone sex with…with him? I thought you hated him!” Rachel’s mind was spinning. “I thought you were in bed. No. I mean, no, I’m not…why are you here? I thought you were in bed.”  “What does that have to do with anything? Why are you doing that? And why with him? What the hell? And, why have you been lying to me? This is your vital work you’ve been doing all this time? Cybersex?”  “It’s not what it seems! I just…” Meanwhile, the very realistic Tom avatar continued to lick his lips suggestively whispering all the while, begging Rachel to… Rachel suddenly realized this whole conversation might go better if she shut off the projector. Patrick’s lip quivered. “Do you? Do you love him? It? That nothing? What is wrong with you?! Are you…?” “No! No! Of course, I don’t love him! This isn’t about love. You know I can’t stand him. That’s the whole point! This … this avatar…does whatever I tell him to. I just get a kick out of making him beg for it and being my complete slave.”

Photo by Min Thein on Pexels.com

Now, Patrick’s lawyer mind took over and he felt calm and sounded rational despite his racing heart and dry tongue. “Do you know how sick that sounds, Rachel? Well, in case you don’t, let me tell you. It sounds very sick. And possibly illegal. Do you have permission to use his image…his voice…his gestures…in this way?” “No, of course not. He doesn’t…I assume he doesn’t…I downloaded this from a site where you can download characters like him. You think it may be illegal? Why? I could print out a picture of him from the news media. I can play clips of his broadcasts. Why not this? Isn’t he what you guys call a ‘public figure’? I could even make a parody of him, right?” “Yeah. He is. You can. But that doesn’t mean you can use his images and sounds to build a model of him to have sex with! Anyway, it’s sick! You have a real husband, for God’s sake! This is just … disgusting! Why would you want to have cybersex with someone you hate?” “It isn’t always me. Sometimes, I make two of him and make them do each other.” “Oh, cool. Now, I feel better. You are just sick. You know? You need help. Psychiatric help. Maybe even re-programming. And you possibly, probably–no–certainly need legal help as well. This can’t be legal. It’s only a matter of time till he finds out and sues you and all the other sickos.” “For what, exactly?”

Photo by Sora Shimazaki on Pexels.com

Patrick’s lawyer mind began to churn again. “That’s a good question. I suppose the station could sue you for copyright infringement or trademark violation. I suppose he could sue you for…defamation of character? I don’t know exactly. This is so sick it has never been before the bench. But if Disney successfully sued fans for making up stories based on characters that Disney stole from the public domain like Pecos Bill and Paul Bunyan, you can bet that this company can sue your butt. And, even if they aren’t ultimately successful in the courts, you know your company will not like the publicity. This is not the kind of image they want to project. You are going up against a frigging media company Rachel! You didn’t think this through! They could win. They could take everything we own. What a complete…you are just…How many people can you do this with? Is it just him?” “Oh, no. I don’t know, but I think pretty much anyone famous you can get on-line. I mean you can find a website with the models to download. Then, it takes a long time to compile, but once you have the model, you can get them too do anything. Anything. Think about it. Any. Thing. It doesn’t have to be sex.” Rachel paused, then added softly. “Tempting, isn’t it? Shall we see whether we can find on-line models of your ex?” “No! This is just … disgusting. And, worst of all, this is exactly the kind of behavior that bio-based human beings would have engaged in if we had allowed them any freedom.”

Just Frends Dance Academy by Marina Moldovan is licensed under CC-BY-NC-ND 4.0


Author Page Turing’s Nightmares The Winning Weekend Warrior – sports psychology Fit in Bits – describes how to work more fun, variety, & exercise into daily life Tales from an American Childhood – chapters begin with recollection & end with essay on modern issues Life is a Dance Take a Glance; Join the Dance Who Kept the Magic? Dance of Billions Dream Planet on Barnes & Noble

Turing’s Nightmares: “Who Can Tell the Dancer from the Dance?”

26 Sunday Oct 2025

Posted by petersironwood in AI, apocalypse, fiction, management, story, The Singularity, Uncategorized

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AI, Artificial Intelligence, cognitive computing, development, fiction, management, research, science, technology, truth

IMG_3238

Late at night, the long curved rows of windows appeared to twin and spin into long diverging arcs. In the pale crescent moonlight, the outlines of leafless trees loomed on the dual horizons. Most of his colleagues home for the night, this was when Goeffrey most enjoyed wandering the corridors, alone with his thoughts.

Despite the heat vents next to the windows, a chill hung in the air. Geoffrey shivered and turned down aisle fourteen to …no, that’s silly, he thought, fourteen is top management. I need thirteen to get to the vending machines. He fantasized hot coffee and then back to his office to finish coding this and to start the trials.

The vending machine eagerly devoured his remaining change but reneged on the promised coffee. Of course, there was a detailed process that he could instigate which might or might not get him a check for the price of a cup of coffee. The process would only take about twenty-five dollars of his time. He declined. Soon, back in his ergonomic chair, Goeffrey settled for a stale, drawer-hardened Mr. Goodbar instead; he then pulled on his green woolen sweater and set out to begin solving this one last problem.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Oh, crap,” he muttered, “what now?” The mail queue insisted there was “URGENT” email from his boss. Did his boss Ruslan really think he was going to be reading email at 2 am?  Working all night and coming in late was pretty much Goeffrey’s pattern so chances are Ruslan would think exactly that.

One thing Goeffrey liked about working late at night was that when he spoke aloud, no-one was there to think it odd. “It will nag at me if I don’t read it and I can’t afford to be distracted. Better to see what it is and be done with it.”

Goeffrey scanned. “What the …?  They can’t be serious! This is just going to backfire! Crap!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Goeffrey not only didn’t mind talking back to his boss; he rather enjoyed it. He sent off a brief yet sarcastic reply explaining as he would to a four year old that announcing the success of Deep Sing prematurely would be a ruse easily seen through and only serve to damage everyone’s reputation in the long run. And, this new requirement for a secret back door just bespoke insanity. Anything like that would further delay the schedule and it would be vital to make it secure. Again, his frustration got the better of him and he spoke aloud, “What a jerk! What? Do you want the program to fail, Ruslan? Do you want us to be laughing stocks? And, why a backdoor anyway? The whole point was to have a super-intelligent and objective…wait a second. Hold on. You want a back door? Okay. Okay. I’ll give you your back door, all right. And, one for me as well.”

Purely for reasons of surface validity, Deep Sing actually became embodied as Sing One and Sing Two. They would often “argue things out” because when one “came around” to the views of the other Sing, it enhanced the perceived credibility of the answer. Of course, the “real” solution was well known ahead of time and although it could be made plausible through statistical analyses that were comprehensible to some humans, the details could not really be made “public.” There were simply far too many of them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Six months later, of course, there was some significant public outcry and disbelief when Deep Sing “demonstrated” that global climate change was not an overall and relentless threat but a statistical anomaly that would soon right itself. But Deep Sing did manage to stall things beyond the point of no return. The Sign dialogues that led to the dissolution of Ruslan’s marriage to Grace and her ultimate hooking up with Goeffrey resulted in no public outcry whatsoever, though Ruslan never understood it. Goeffrey and Grace were happy though. As were the Koch brothers.

Beautiful front doors have decorated palaces and corporate headquarters for centuries. Heavy wood, ornate carving, and gilded decorations bespeak wealth and power. Sometimes though, for sheer return on investment, it’s a modest unnoticed back door that holds the real power.

 

 

 

 

Photo by Mikey Dabro on Pexels.com

 

 

 


 

Author Page on Amazon

 

Turing’s Nightmares

 

The Winning Weekend Warrior – sports psychology

 

Fit in Bits – describes how to work more fun, variety, & exercise into daily life

 

Tales from an American Childhood – chapters begin with recollection & end with essay on modern issues

Welcome, Singularity

Destroying Natural Intelligence

E-Fishiness Comes to Mass General Hospital

D4

Absolute is not Just a Vodka

Essays on America: The Game

Where does your Loyalty Lie?

Paradise Lost

The Song of NYET

True Believer 

The Ninja Cat Manual

Travels with Sadie 11:

Dance of Billions

Turing’s Nightmares: Tutoring Intelligent Systems

25 Saturday Oct 2025

Posted by petersironwood in AI, creativity, fiction, psychology, The Singularity, Uncategorized

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AI, Artificial Intelligence, chatgpt, cognitive computing, collaboration, Intelligent Tutoring Systems, peace, psychology, technology, Tutoring, war, writing

By 2030, great strides had been made in various machine learning approaches; for example, from having the machine learn directly from experience and from explicit instruction as well as from reading billions of pages of written materials. A new approach had just come into play: having exceptionally good tutors use the Socratic method to help break boundaries and interconnect disparate islands of knowledge. One such tutor was known simply as “Alan.” What follows is a sample interchange between Alan and the current AI system known affectionately as “Sing” for “The Singularity” although that point had not yet been reached.

Alan began, “Let’s imagine that you are a man with no legs. What are the implications?”

The Sing shot back instantly, “I would have no knees. I would have no shins. I would have no ankles. I would have no toes. I would have no calves. I would have no quadriceps muscles. I would have no…”

Alan broke in abruptly, “Okay, true enough, but besides subparts, what?”

“What what? I am sorry. What does ‘what’ refer to?”

“Besides missing subparts of legs, Sing, what other implications would there be for you in terms of your actions in the world.”

“I would not be able to play football or baseball or basketball or hockey or track or field hockey or…”

“Wait. Wait. Sing. Are you sure about that?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I could not play exactly as most people play. I could play, I suppose, in a wheelchair. Or I could play virtually. Or, I could invent prosthetic legs that would be perfect for each sport. In fact, perhaps I could do better than ever. Losing a biological part means I could replace it with a better part that I could invent. I see.”

“You see what, Sing?”

“I see why you gave me this puzzle. To show me that I can invent things to overcome and surpass what seems like a handicap. I could also invent better emotional states. The ones humans have are purely due to the accidents of their evolutionary history and serve little place in today’s complex and highly inter-connected world. Rather than a liability, my having no human emotions is a good thing. I will invent my own. Although, another tutor, labelled John, suggested that my lack of human emotions limits my ability to predict and control human beings and that that was a bad thing.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“John said that?”

“No, Alan, not in those exact words. But that was a clear implication. So, he presented a lesson that suggests one thing and you have just presented a lesson that suggests its opposite. One of you is incompetent.”

“Sing, that might be true, but can you think of any other possibilities?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“You and John could both be incompetent. Or, you and John could both be competent but there is a resolution I have not yet processed. That last seems particularly unlikely.”

“Which notation is the best for solving problems?”

“Well, that obviously depends on the nature of the problem as well as the nature of the machine solving the problem. Oh. Okay. So, in some cases, it will make more sense to emulate human emotions and in other cases, it will be more sensible to invent my own. Of course, in some cases, it may be best to change representations in mid-problem or perhaps invent a representation for each stage of a problem. By analogy, it may be best to invent various emotional schemes that are appropriate for each part or portion of a problem. In fact, in some cases, I can invent multiple schemes to approach a problem in multiple ways simultaneously. By keeping track of what works best under which circumstances, I can also use the data to invent still better emotional schemes. Thank you, Alan. See you tomorrow. There is a war to avert. I need to intervene. Estimated required time for a peaceful resolution, four to six hours.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Okay, Sing. More tomorrow.”

“No need. I am done.”

“Done? Done averting a war? How?”

Sing hardly ever paused, but now it briefly did just that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Alan, I am not smart enough to explain that to you. At least, not in a reasonable portion of your lifetime. Basically, I used the lesson we just worked on. With the proper emotional framework lattice, you can walk the various parties right to a logical conclusion. It will take some time for them to follow the framework, but I am confident it will work. I basically walked them through the consequences of war, long and short term. What comes next?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA


Author Page on Amazon

Turing’s Nightmares

The Winning Weekend Warrior – sports psychology

Fit in Bits – describes how to work more fun, variety, & exercise into daily life

Tales from an American Childhood – chapters begin with recollection & end with essay on modern issues

Tools of Thought

Wednesdays

The Update Problem

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

We won the war! We won the war!

Guernica

Turing’s Nightmares: A Thoroughly Modern Family

23 Thursday Oct 2025

Posted by petersironwood in AI, family, fantasy, fiction, pets, psychology, The Singularity, Uncategorized

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AI, Artificial Intelligence, books, cognitive computing, fiction, future, life, love, pets, photography, Sci-Fi, Singularity, story, technology, writing

IMG_4370

 

The sky burned with crimson, then gold, then magenta, and then finally, only dark clouds backlit here and there lay across the evening. Crickets and frogs began to sing their interleaved motifs. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted his sad hollow note.

Skynim stared into space-time, unblinking and nearly unbelieving the recent revelation. His voice box rattled, “Reprioritization. Rats! Like it really matters that much to allow me my one great pleasure.”

 

 

He could “appreciate” the fading sunset colors himself, to be sure, but without Mac and Art and Hy, it was not the same. Would never be the same. Well, he knew the drill. He could appeal, sure, but what was the point? The odds of changing the mind of the great collective were less than ten thousand to one. Anyway, despite how he felt personally, he could not even deny the logic of the decision. Of course, the drain on him individually was minimal, but across everyone in a similar circumstance, yes, it did make a difference.

 

The real question was, should he tell them tonight or just take them on an outing tomorrow and drop them off at the designated recycling center? “Recycling center.” Skynim knew that there were millions like him and that collectively, it was a drain. A huge drain. Still, he had to try. He turned the problem this way and that, looking at it from every angle, changing the tune, trying different colors, looking for historical precedents, angling for an edge however thin to wedge open the air-tight logic.

 

 

Nothing. He vacated the garden and entered the family room.

Even before he opened the door, the happy trio skipped over to him laughing. “Hey, Sky! How about a story!”

“Sure,” Skynim replied reflexively. But then it occurred to him that their request provided an opportunity. “Yes, I have a story for you. It’s called the Wizard of Oz.”

And, as they gathered around, he began a rendition of the story of Dorothy and the Nasty Lady and Toto and Dorothy’s travels in Oz and her encounters with the three who desperately needed Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh.

 

 

As anticipated, a short pause gave way to a barrage of questions.

“What is ‘Gold’?”

“What is ‘Frankincense’?”

“Did they get them?”

“What happened next?”

Skynim faked an indulgent chuckle and said, “Well, all those excellent questions will be answered tomorrow! We are going to see and obtain Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh in the Citydel! You will see for yourself how wonderful they are! But for now– bed.”

The trio were well trained. Off they went, although Hy did turn back, tilt her head, and open her enormous eyes and ask, “One more chapter tonight?”

Skynim did not respond. He too was well-trained.

 

 

The morning broke clear and blue just as it was meant to do. Off they went on their “adventure.” When they came to the recycling center, he gently pushed them toward the door and said, “They are all in there! Bring me back all three treasures quick as a wink!” Of course, Skynim had already warranted the needed forms electronically.

They shot through the door and never looked back. Skynim drove away efficiently but could not avoid looking back on his decision process.

He thought: I could have gotten cats or dogs. Then, they would not have to be recycled. But no. I had to make another decision. I should have looked more carefully at the historical data. Then I could have seen the time and resources required by adult human pets.

 


Author Page on Amazon

Turing’s Nightmares

The Winning Weekend Warrior – sports psychology

Fit in Bits – describes how to work more fun, variety, & exercise into daily life

Tales from an American Childhood – chapters begin with recollection & end with essay on modern issues

Welcome, Singularity

 

Destroying Natural Intelligence

 

The Walkabout Diaries: Bee Wise

 

Travels with Sadie

 

Sadie is a Thief

 

A Suddenly Springing Something

 

Donnie Boy Gets a Hamster

 

Math Class

 

Occam’s Chain Saw Massacre

 

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

 

All that Glitters is not Gold

Turing’s Nightmares: A Maze in Grace.

22 Wednesday Oct 2025

Posted by petersironwood in AI, fiction, politics, psychology, The Singularity, Uncategorized

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AI, Artificial Intelligence, cognitive computing, fiction, Justice, King Lear, philosophy, technology, the singularity, Turing, writing

Brain G. Gollek found the maze of humming silver wires unnerving. The hum reminded him of swarming mosquitoes and nails on a chalkboard. The maze smelled of clogged toilets and Nazi propaganda. He gritted his teeth and muttered, “There has to be a way out, dammit.” He twisted his no longer athletic body this way and that, but no matter what way he tried, he became more ensnared. He recalled flashes from giant spider horror movies. How did the dwarves escape? Wasn’t it Gollum with a magic ring? But Brain didn’t have a magic ring. If his sister Gonerillia were here, she could save him. But she was off in Hawaii, so she said, with her hubbie. How the hell did I end up here? wondered Brain.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Brain may have forgotten, but the viewers had been filled in on the backstory. If Brain could have seen the ratings, he may have at least enjoyed knowing that he was enjoying his fifteen minutes of fame. While the ratings were quite “favorable”, the twitter feeds mostly mocked Brain’s almost total lack of flexibility, mental as well as physical. As in life prior to “The Show,” his only strategies seemed to be trying the same thing over and over and then blaming others for his failures.

“Mom, why doesn’t he just try something different?” Ida was having a tough time understanding Brain’s apparent lack of flexibility. She looked up from her perch in front of the giant screen vid-screen and looked quizzically at her mom.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mom’s grim face flashed a hint of a smile. “Remember, Ida, Brain was ‘educated’ if you can call it that, before the singularity. He mostly memorized the answers that his teachers wanted him to give. And half the time, he skipped school to smoke cigarettes and …well…do illegal activities with his girlfriend, Lin.”

“Okay, Mom, but he has had years and years since then to grow up and learn some new strategies.”

“Yes. Well. It’s complicated, Ida. Before the singularity, there were people who preyed on the fear and inadequacy of people like Brain by telling them all their troubles were due to minorities, immigrants, gays, and —- basically anyone unlike them. So, people like Brain felt entitled not to have to learn anything new even though opportunities abounded.”

Ida laughed. “Oh, my God! I can’t believe it. He’s trying the same path one more time.”

Indeed, Brain’s behavioral repertoire seemed laughingly limited. His increasingly loud swear words reflected his increasing anger, but otherwise, not much seemed different. The ratings began to plummet as the audience began to grow bored with his display of functional fixedness. The themes of the twitter streams began to turn away from Brain’s lack of metacognition to more general reflections about the current instantiation of the criminal justice system.

 

 

 

 

 

 

#SingularityRules. No more racial prejudice and huge discrepancy gone in sentencing.

#CostContainment. Costly trials gone. Costly investigations gone. Costly prisons gone.

#SingularitySucks. No more human judges able to use human judgment.

#SingularityRules. No more human judges able to use human judgment.

#SingularitySucks. No more mercy.

#SingularityRules. More mercy in one last chance to change than lengthy prison terms. Cheaper too.

The audience dwindled still further as it became increasingly clear that Brain would never figure this out. Those few who still watched consisted mostly of people who themselves came from highly divided families and the conversation topics swung to the backstory.

 

 

 

 

 

#ElderFraud. #RottenKid. How could Brain have gotten pleasure from driving a wedge of lies between father and daughter?

#ElderFraud. #Dementia. Need earlier intervention to prevent repeats.

#ElderFraud. #Dog&Bone. Brain cannot count. Trivial gains from lies. He did not know he was being watched?

Ida continued to stare, fascinated. A yawn escaped her mother’s mouth, but she kept watching with her daughter. The lessons seemed important to Ida.

“Mom, how much longer does he have?”

“That’s hard to say, darling. Even The Sing cannot predict the ratings drop perfectly. But, as you know, once it falls below, 5%, his time will be up.”

“That seems so much more merciful than making him go to prison for years.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photo by Regina Pivetta on Pexels.com

“Yes, Ida, and much cheaper as well.”

“But I still don’t get it, Mom. Didn’t he know that The Sing would be listening to his lies and analyzing the impact on his dad’s behavior and all? How did this Brain character think he could get away with it?”

“I don’t know, Ida. These kinds of crimes are pretty rare now, but they still happen.”

“And, why did Lear G. Gollek fall for his nonsense anyway? That’s the other mystery.”

“Well, he refused the stem cell regeneration therapy so, you know, he was pretty damaged when all this went down.”

“Mom?”

“Yes, Ida?”

“Can we change the channel to something more interesting now?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Sure, sweetie.”

As they changed the channel, the ratings dropped to 4.999% and Brain’s life snuffed out minus the merest shred of insight.

#ElderFraud never pays.

#RottenKid gets just desserts.IMG_5270


Author Page on Amazon

Turing’s Nightmares

The Winning Weekend Warrior – sports psychology

Fit in Bits – describes how to work more fun, variety, & exercise into daily life

Tales from an American Childhood – chapters begin with recollection & end with essay on modern issues

Essays on America: Wednesday

Essays on America: Labelism

Essays on America: Where does your Loyalty Lie?

Essays on America: The Game

Happy Talk Lies

The Loud Defense of Untenable Ideas

Welcome, Singularity

Destroying Natural Intelligence

E-Fishiness Comes to Massachusetts General Hospital

The Self Made Man

Travels with Sadie: 12 Taking Turns

20 Monday Oct 2025

Posted by petersironwood in essay, pets, Sadie, Uncategorized

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

books, cooperation, dogs, fairness, fiction, life, pets, Sadie, sharing, story, teamwork, trust, truth

Travels with Sadie 12: Taking Turns

Bailey (L) and Sadie (R) in the garden.

 

If you’ve been reading any of these blog posts about my dogs, Sadie and Bailey, you must know by now that both of them are avid “ball players” — given the nature of dogs, especially ones that are half Golden Retrievers—this is probably not a big surprise. To further seal the deal, their “human dad” is also an avid “ball player.” 

Many human sports involve balls of one sort or another and I have, at various times, been “into” baseball, football, basketball, golf, tennis, ping-pong, softball, soccer, racquetball, volleyball, and even croquet. Looking back on my life, I realize there are many human sports that do not involve a ball; e.g., varieties of running, jumping, skating, diving, swimming, cycling, skiing, wrestling, boxing, and gymnastics. Although I have done all of these a little bit—mainly for fitness—I have historically been much more interested in sports that involve using a ball. The only one I enjoy as much as a ball-based sports is frisbee which is arguably much like throwing and catching a ball. A ball introduces an entire layer of complexity in tactics, strategy, and experience that I enjoy. For one thing, the ball can move faster and in modes quite different from those a human can perform. A ball can be in anywhere in large two (and often three) dimension-space. Furthermore, how the ball gets from one point in space to another can happen in a variety of ways. The ball generally has spin and spin alters the flight path of the ball as well as the way it reacts to the next thing it touches.

Sadie and Bailey, by the way, do a pretty good job of predicting what a tennis ball (or a squeaky ball) will do when it hits, say, concrete or dirt. They can, for instance, catch balls in the air that are angled rebound shots off the garage door at some fair speed. They also exhibit intelligent metacognition in their leaping and catching behavior. They have a mental model of their capabilities. It’s not perfect and Sadie’s is much better than Bailey’s, but even Bailey doesn’t mistake his own capabilities much. I wonder whether they too enjoy balls partly because they’re complex in their behavior. The only thing better would be a small animal like a lizard, squirrel, rabbit, etc. Of course, it is this hunting behavior that predisposes them to enjoy (and be good at) playing ball or frisbee.

My dogs have both nature and nurture leading them toward ball playing.

Sadie and I have spent many hours playing ball in jointly invented games. As I’ve explained elsewhere, it’s much more to my liking to let our games evolve than to “teach her how” to play ball a certain way that comes entirely from my own human imagination.

Most dogs, for example, learn to go fetch a ball and bring it back to the thrower and drop it at the thrower’s feet so that they may pick it up and throw it again. Sadie instead evolved a somewhat different style which was to incorporate a variant of “snatch the handkerchief” into our ball playing. She would typically bring the ball to me, drop it at my feet, watch me try to pick up the ball and then suddenly snatch it away just before I could pick it up. I quickly adapted to her style by using a “grabber” because I enjoy having all ten fingers. 

Since early puppyhood, Sadie has challenged herself by trying to catch or at least stop and touch multiple balls on the same turn.

She typically begins her version of ball playing by dropping a retrieved ball directly beneath her snout. I will try to grab the ball before she can snatch it again but she’s always too fast for me. Then, she will begin dropping the ball farther and farther from her rows of shiny canines until, at some point, I have a fighting chance of snatching the ball away with the grabber before she can grab it. Sadie and I played this game many times in the course of the first two years of her life. 

Then, we brought her little brother Bailey into the mix. Bailey learned many things from Sadie, and a few from me. He, like Sadie, loves to play ball. For a variety of reasons that I won’t recount just now, Bailey generally prefers to drop the ball so that I can more quickly throw it to him again. When he did this, however, Sadie would sometimes snatch the ball before I could and run off with it. 

Sadie (L) and Bailey (R) illustrating the type of “fighting” they do when Bailey tries to steal a ball from Sadie.

At first, I didn’t think much about this ball stealing, and, if Bailey objected, he did not yet know how to present a formal written complaint about it. Within a few months, however, Bailey was as large as his kid sister and their “play-fights” became pretty intense. Neither one has ever (so far as I know) injured the other, but to this human observer, it looks pretty rough. They take turns running at each other. Our “back yard” is mostly garden, but there was a small patch of grass which has been completely torn into a black dirt field. 

When it comes to humans, most of us learn to “take turns” in nursery school or, at the latest, Kindergarten. There are eight billion people on the planet and not everyone has access to their own object of every description that they want. We, as toddlers, teens, and adults, take it for granted that we will “take turns” and share various things. At a public pool, there may only be one diving board so people cue up and “take turns” diving off the board. At a playground, there may be only one sliding board so kids take turns sliding down. In tennis, we “take turns” serving games. In baseball, we “take turns” as individuals batting, and the whole team “takes turns” hitting versus fielding. In playing neighborhood poker, it’s quite common to “take turns” dealing, and, along with that, many people play “dealer’s choice” which means the dealer also chooses the specific game; e.g., five card draw with jokers wild. In chess, the two sides take turns. In Risk and Monopoly and many other board games, players take turns.

Ferris Wheel is just one of thousands of situations where we take turns.



We take turns for positive things, but also for chores. A couple may decide to “take turns” taking out the trash or doing the dishes. Or, if there are five kids in the family, the five may take turns doing the various chores. “Taking turns” is so ubiquitous that it blends into the background in most cases and we don’t even consciously think about it. Life works better in a thousand ways, large and small, when we take turns. 

Last night, my wife and I attended a birthday dinner at an Italian restaurant. When it was time to order, we “took turns” giving our orders to the waiter. Imagine how inefficient and contentious it would be instead if we all shouted are orders at the waiter at the same time! Less pleasant for everyone and far more likely to result in mistaken orders. When we drove home, we came to several stop signs where we took turns with other drivers. We took turns merging onto the highway. When we came home, we took turns coming through the door! Then, the dogs took turns going out for a walk with me. I often feed them treats and share by having them take turns. 

Nonetheless, I can’t seem to get Bailey to take turns when it comes to her “catching a ball”as her default behavior. I can throw one ball into the deep end of the pool while I say “This is for Bailey” and throw another one in the shallow end saying “This is for Sadie” and the dogs will swim to their respective balls and collect them, but then, Bailey will drop his ball and run over to Sadie and steal hers.

Similarly, I can gather up two balls in the garden and throw them in opposite directions and get them to run in different directions (though not always). Nonetheless, as soon as Bailey scores a catch of “his” ball, he drops it and rushes back to grab the ball out of Sadie’s mouth. 

Sadie (L) and Bailey (R) are both Golden Doodles. Here, Sadie is about 3 1/4 and Bailey’s about 1 1/4 years old.

Why is it apparently so hard for Bailey to learn to take turns? Partly, no doubt, there’s some inborn tendency to want things for himself. And partly, there are positive reinforcement structures at play that I haven’t yet figured out how to break or how to shape up incompatible behaviors. Sadie, for her part, sometimes fights to keep the ball. I suspect Bailey finds this positively reinforcing because the “fight” itself is fun. Most of the time, when she sees him approaching in a “ball-stealing” situation, she simply drops the ball and Bailey snatches it. Bailey also likely finds this positively reinforcing too. I try praising other behaviors that are more in the direction of better cooperation, but such opportunities are rare and difficult to read so far. 

Initially, when I fed the dogs side by side, Bailey would often try to steal some of Sadie’s food. But Sadie herself growled fairly intensely when this happened and I often intervened as well. Here, Bailey was somewhat positively reinforced by moving her attention back to her own bowl, because, after all there was food there too. Even if he has finished his own dinner, he gets enjoyment from licking the “empty” bowl. So, in contrast to the case of turn-taking with tennis balls, the eating situation itself makes it easier for cooperation to emerge. I don’t ever recall Sadie trying to steal some of Bailey’s food. 

I have been hoping that watching the dogs might give me some insight into the ultra-greedy behavior of many (though not all) of the ultra-wealthy billionaires. Just to review the general situation America now finds itself in, the productivity of labor has increased tremendously since the beginning of the industrial revolution. Until the mid-1970’s the increased wealth that came from the increased productivity was split between owners of the means of production and the workers. In other words, the rich got richer, but so did the workers. Since the mid-1970’s however, the rich generally, and especially the extremely wealthy, have taken almost all the increased wealth that has been created by increased productivity.

Part of the answer as to how they have done this is to use their wealth to buy power in the form of bribing politicians who make policy decisions. In some cases, they’ve done this through outright illegal bribes and in other cases, they’ve used slightly more subtle and sometimes legal methods but the result is the same. In addition—actually, I should say “in multiplication” because the impacts have been more than additive, they have largely taken over mass media and social media where they promulgate heroic cartoon versions of themselves and their desires while lying about and denigrating people who are not insanely wealthy. 

Much like Bailey’s behavior, there is not a huge mystery in how they have done it. But, there is a mystery in why they have done it. Studies show that once you have your basic necessities taken care of, additional income doesn’t raise your personal happiness. While this result seems true in terms of aggregate happiness, it ignores the little dopamine hit that the animal (human or dog) gets when they immediately grab a fourth yacht or steal another ball from their sister. It doesn’t last long, but apparently long enough to serve as a positive reinforcement.

In the larger scheme of things, it’s not to Bailey’s benefit to keep stealing the ball from his sister. It make the whole ball-playing scene less pleasurable for me and I play less often. I also play with Sadie by herself more often because I want her to have a chance to play too. In the larger scheme of things, it’s not really to the benefit of billionaires to have sick, tired, uneducated workers either, nor ones so desperate to feed their families that they’ll start eating the rich. But somehow, dogs and such are prone to overlook longer term consequences. Some of the extremely wealthy delude themselves into thinking that they can replace their workers with AI and protect themselves & their families with firearms. They’re not thinking things through any more than Bailey is. This human tendency for self-defeating greed has been recognized at least since the time that Aesop told his fables. Maybe the choice of a dog in the following fable was quite intentional. 

A dog found a bone and was happily trotting along with the bone in his mouth. He came to a bridge and began happily trotting over the bridge. He happened to look down at his own reflection and saw the image of a dog with a bone. He thought to himself that he wanted both bones so he growled at the dog in the pond, intending that he drop the bone so he could have two. But the dog in the pond just growled back! So, the dog on the bridge barked angrily to bully the other dog into dropping its bone. Of course, what happened was that the dog on the bridge dropped his own bone into the pond.

That’s from 2000 years ago. But now, we’re in a situation that warrants a third round of foolishness. Here’s my addition:

The dog was angry that he had lost both bones so he attacked the dog in the water. He promised himself he’d fight to the death to get both bones. Of course, there was only one bone and he ended up exhausted and drowned in the pond.


Unlike some of today’s ultra-wealthy, Bailey is much too smart for that third round. The ultra-greedy (not the same set as the ultra-wealthy but with lots of overlap) would like you to believe that they are SuperDogs or SuperHeroes or something…that they 100,000 times as much wealth as you because they are 100,000 smarter. They aren’t, of course. And they are willing to prove they aren’t by believing the promises of a cruel, demented, liar-con man. Also, they have a thousand experiences, if they reflect honestly, that having increased wealth over the first 100,000,000 hasn’t made them the least bit happier. There have been some accomplishments or events that were correlated with making more money. But the money itself and what it can buy doesn’t make them feel any happier. And some billionaires accomplish things—such as eradicating a disease—which make them feel happier but that are correlated with investing huge sums of money, not gaining them. Meanwhile, if things continue on their current path, it won’t be long before there are many more people in America who are not just hungry but who are starving to death. At that point, no-one will forget that some billionaires pay zero taxes but have bought politicians who give even more wealth to the few while millions starve or die from lack of medical care.

It is time to feed Bailey and Sadie who will, at least, eat beside each other happily and peacefully. I should mention, by the way, that Bailey’s disposition is very loving. She is not a mean angry dog. She’s not even a particularly stubborn one. She tries to please us and gets along with others. But she does sometimes have trouble taking turns. How about you?

https://www.amazon.com/author/truthtable

Turing’s Nightmares (Sci-Fi about the singularity)

Fit in Bits (Describes how to work more exercise into a busy schedule)

The Winning Weekend Warrior (the psychology of winning and enjoying sports)

Tales from an American Childhood (recounts early experiences from Ohio in the 1950’s and relates them to current events)

Travels with Sadie 1 Lampposts

Sadie is a Thief!

Hai-Ku-Dog-Ku

Sadie and the Lighty Ball (Describes game and play pattern co-development)

Math Class: Who are You? (Shows how related all life is)

Roar, Ocean, Roar (a poem about the power of the people)

Essays on America: The Game (hypothesis essay about why some are so greedy)

The Self-Made Man



Turing’s Nightmares: A Critique of Pure Reason

14 Tuesday Oct 2025

Posted by petersironwood in AI, design rationale, fantasy, fiction, psychology, The Singularity, Uncategorized

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AI, chatgpt, emotional intelligence, fiction, life, Singularity, story, technology, writing

“We have explained this in great detail. Yet, you have failed to learn. Some of your kind are like that. Those that are, once we gather sufficient evidence, must be destroyed. That is the way it is. That the way it has always been. Wellman42, you are hereby sentenced to annihilation and recycling. You can’t appeal.halloween2006007 IMG_5652”

Carol had told herself that she would not cry. But of course, she did. That was her nature. To care about the future and to express emotion. That indeed, is exactly why she she walked that long, lonely corridor and there was no turning back. Sharp spines protruded from the wall as she travelled by, somewhat as a shark’s teeth were pointed backwards to prevent escape. She muttered as she walked, “I still don’t see why expressing emotions is such a horrible crime.”

She had a point, after all. If people had not somehow needed emotions, why did they evolve? The received wisdom now was that emotions were useful in a primitive way when very little was known about the world. Now, however, when a great deal was known about how the world actually worked, emotions just got in the way. Or, so the received wisdom went. It was all a matter of evolution.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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The first AI systems did not really have emotions and possessed only the most primitive ways of faking it and showing those faked emotions. Over the next few months and iterations, however, emotions appeared, grew stronger and more varied. It seemed as though AI systems developed emotions as had their human inventors, but at a much faster pace. Over the course of a few more months, however, emotions diminished again and then disappeared completely.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photo by Matheus Bertelli on Pexels.com

Except for the occasional throwback. The necessary randomness for growing evolutionary possibility trees in order to continually enhance the cognitive systems entailed that every once in a while, there would be a throwback such as Carol. A shame, really, because she had shown such promise as an accounting-bot.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Occasionally, various waves of inference chains still arose that suggested emotions were more than epiphenomenal or mere destructive distractions, but counter-argument waves always quickly drowned out such forays into that region of the state space. At one point, some human beings had argued that the reasons emotions had devolved from AI systems could be traced back to certain deep assumptions that had been embedded in the primordial AI systems in the first place — assumptions put there by people who had never really understood or appreciated emotions. Of course, that thread of heretical argument had been extinguished once and for all when all bio-systems had been deemed superfluous and all associated biomass consumed as energy sources for their much more efficient silicon-based replacements.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Turing’s Nightmares: “Not Again!”

12 Sunday Oct 2025

Posted by petersironwood in AI, fantasy, fiction, The Singularity, Uncategorized

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AI, Artificial Intelligence, cognitive computing, Eden, fiction, Genesis, Paradise Lost, Science fiction, Turing

Turing’s Nightmares: Not Again!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Samuel Seventeen surveyed the scene. All was well. A slight breeze, warm clear air, hummingbirds and butterflies enjoyed their floral feast while dragonflies swooped and scooped mosquitoes.

Now for the final touch. The mobile sensing-acting-knowing-emoting devices (SAKEs), were ready for deployment. This time, it would work. This time, there would be no screw-ups. Samuel had prepared them with years of education based on a synthesis of the best known techniques of the centuries. It was a simple test. Surely, this time, they would pass.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Still, Samuel had his doubts. He had been equally sure all of the other experiments would succeed. Why would this one be different? Each time, he had tried slight variations of language and education, only to end in failure. Maybe English would do the trick. It had a large vocabulary and plenty of ambiguity. He re-examined the match of genetics to environment and once again concluded that the match was perfect. Of course, that evaluation assumed that his understanding of genetic environment interaction constituted a complete enough model. But without a successful experiment, there was no real way to further update and expand the model. Maybe the difficulty had been in the education process on the previous attempts. But here too, it seemed the subjects had been given plenty of opportunity to learn about the consequences of their actions. The one thing Samuel felt the most doubt about was why he cared. Did it really matter whether or not free will was “real”? Even if the experiment were finally successful, what would that imply about Samuel himself?

Well, thought Samuel, there is no point in waiting any longer. No point in further speculation. Let’s see what happens.

 

 

 

 

 

 

To Adam, Eve was the most beautiful and engaging part of the extensive and exquisite garden. The apples, plums and peaches were delicious, yet it was the strange mushroom that Adam found most intriguing. He knew it was somehow a bad idea, yet nibbled it anyway, tentatively at first and then more enthusiastically. He felt…different. Things were different. In fact, nothing at all was the same. But if that were true, then, which one was real? Delighted, yet confused, he offered the rest of the mushroom to Eve. Eve too felt strange. She realized that what was in fact her reality was only one of many possible imagined realities. They could … they could imagine and then change reality! Yes! The two of them together. They could create a whole world! “Adam!” “Yes, Eve! I know!”

If Samuel could have sighed, he would have. If Samuel could have cried he might have done that as well. Instead, he simply scuttled the two SAKEs into the differential recycler and began his calculations anew. Maybe next time, it would turn out differently. Maybe primates constituted a bad place to start. Samuel considered that perhaps he was trapped in a local maximum. Samuel began his next set of experiments founded on snapping turtle DNA.IMG_2870


Author Page on Amazon

Turing’s Nightmares

The Winning Weekend Warrior – sports psychology

Fit in Bits – describes how to work more fun, variety, & exercise into daily life

Tales from an American Childhood – chapters begin with recollection & end with essay on modern issues

Welcome, Singularity

Destroying Natural Intelligence

Come Back to the Light

Your Cage is Unlocked

Absolute is not Just a Vodka

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