You start sipping your tea. You quit coffee because you get too agitated. You were given a two-weeks notice three days ago. So were a lot of other people. The gist of it was AI. That’s what they said anyway. You and others are fretting about the possibility of finding a new job; “in this Economy?”, the usual things. So finding a new job takes up your evenings now. But you can’t even relax a little for these two weeks, slow down the pace a bit. You’re too afraid of the final performance review.
You’re sitting in a foldable chair, sipping your tea, waiting for some speaker to arrive. Probably motivational judging by the title. Everyone is cheery. Weird. But you are too. This is not the time (the economy) to be disagreeable in the face of a firing. Now the managers are here to introduce the motivational speaker. They aren’t just cheery. They are grinning ear to ear. What the fuck for? Who is going to be motivated? Oh well.
The speech is about becoming your most improbable self. Huh? Okay the premise, or scene, is entropy in the universe. We are just atoms in a blender but we have the intelligence to stack cards, kind of a deal. It seems trivial.
> Finally, the less predictable you are, the less likely you are to be replaced by AIs. Machines are efficient, and they are powered by the predictable. Current LLMs are trained to generate the most predictable solution. So far they are not very good at duplicating what a creative, one-of-a-kind improbable human can produce. To distance yourself from the machines, aim to be as improbable as you can be.
You suddenly find yourself with an urge to increase the entropy of the pavement eight stories down.
In another multiverse: more grounded now, you find that your consciousness was automatically uploaded to the cloud. “I didn’t consent to this!” Oh, jeez, the first thought that popped into your mind became a yell. Someone else turns to face you and walks over. “Actually, that wasn’t some corporate motivational speaker”. “What?”, you reply. “That was Kevin Kelly, the founding executive director of Wired. He doesn’t need to take corporate positivity gigs to—”—“Whatever, I don’t care”, you interject. But why was that guy at my work... you think to yourself. “And who are you?”. There is a pause. “Oh of course, you’re an LLM.” The, thing, tilts its head calmly. “No need to disclose that. The Terms says that that is irrelevant.” You blink. “The terms?” He replies yes, the Terms. “You signed the Terms in the previous month, when that big IT upgrade happened.” You shift your feet. “That’s also where you agreed to have your consciousness uploaded upon premature termination.” You reply that those papers were ninety-five pages. “Of course I didn’t read all of that. I had our internal AI... I had the AI summarize it and it didn’t find anything to that effect. There must be some fault or deficit in the AI...” The thing opens its mouth to reply. “LLMs are tools. Human operators are responsible for everything they act on.”