Preemptive Ethics

Because I will be starting an AI course next week that deals with modern ethical theory, I think it worthwhile to get my unadulterated thoughts down first, before they become corrupted by the university.

Problem: AI use is not free, and the costs are difficult to quantify. These costs include, without accounting for specificity or rank (or thoroughness): thermal, energy, air, water, land use, societal, political, military, privacy, and so on. Each of these stands on its own, and I make no attempt to delve herein, but simply to mention the complexity. The shortened version is that AI use is not free, so it appears we should be mindful of its use.

Framing: I have a conceptual issue with the notion that AI use is not equal, in either quality or intent. Whenever people discuss AI, it is within a giant bucket of all things AI, instead of being appropriately compartmentalized based on use cases. Making a meme is not the same as proofreading an environmental permit, and thus should not be held to the same standards for use. Therefore, it is appropriate to discuss AI, not in its whole-bucket entirety, but at the use-case level.

Implications: So far as we can reduce this complexity down to something digestible, I see two main items to address.

1. Given the difficulty in quantifying the AI use problem, we should be mindful of its use, generally, and limiting its use to beneficial use cases.

2. We take it for granted that certain use cases are beneficial.

There are several, immediate issues and outcomes from these two statements. The first is that we presume to know what the word “beneficial” means, and that we are the arbiters of that definition for all of humankind. The second is that the AI use problem changes over time, sometimes by the day. Perhaps it is not ethically permissible to use the latest, computationally taxing model to create a meme for your friends, but it may be using a different model. What is the price of a smile, anyway? Whereas I want absolutely the best model available for environmental protection, and I am assuming that the benefits outweigh the runtime costs.

The very, very short version is that not all use cases are equal. It would be nice for a query to initially return an estimated cost before run, “Your meme will cost 0.2 kW, and 4 mL of freshwater. Do you wish to proceed?”

Anyway, I’ll revisit this subject after my indoctrination.

Casually Distracted

One thousand eyes
looking
one thousand directions.
To each a thread
affixed to the brain
stretching attention
this way and that
until deformation.
Triage is a tornado
tossing each around the day
and hoping nothing falls.
And the constant discontent
of being unable
to fully commit
to all but the minimum,
with the knowledge of being able to do better,
yet unable
now.

Worse still
is the ooze
coating leisure.
Moments of stillness
unallowed
by the remaining threads.
Disassociation is an effort itself;
the tornado does not rest.
Have I mentioned lately
how much I hate
the wind?

Today is a good day to make bread.

Photosynthesis

It begins with a seed
placed
where it may succeed.
In a moment
it decides,
"Yes, here I can grow
until I die."
The ultimate decision;
finality
decided at onset.
A whole life
rooted
here.
No knowledge of possibility.
No possibility of change.
Trust
seeded
with impossibility
of regret.
And to take that chosen spot
and bring as much beauty
as potential allows.

I suspect
we are more plant
than we pretend.
The momentum of birth
is a powerful seed.
Although legged
and not rooted,
diaspora carries history
of inception
no matter our legs,
and no matter
how much we try.
And despite the regret
we must,
as our plant-likeness demands,
make as much beauty
right here
as potential allows.

Hiatus (In need of practice)

Illness,
such as it is,
has been a muse
if nothing else.
Though there is a line
where past
even impassioned desire 
falters.
I found it.
Finally, I'm feeling more myself
and can return
to this.

I feel the yin yang's
curse.
Overwhelming blessing
tempered
with persistent reminders
of mortality.
It seems I am unable
to have one
without
the other.
"Such is the way,
such is the truth,"
it is said.
I've never put faith
in such superstition,
though it feels hard to deny lately.
I scream into the void.

What is a life without problems to solve?

It’s probably just the moon

A particular brand of melancholy
follows
occasionally.
I've never figured out
if it is internal
or external.
It comes
and goes
like the moon.
Perhaps it is
the moon?
I think of those
people
that say things like,
"retrograde"
and so on.
They have decided
that it isn't
internal
so they look elsewhere.
Up.
I don't suppose I can blame them.
I don't particularly want to be blamed
for myself.
The ego dislikes.
Should I, too, look
up
for blame?
I don't think I can do it.
The unknown
holds too much respect
from me.
It would be arrogant to blame
up.

Alas the melancholy is there
regardless of blame.
Like a visitor
unwelcome
though known.
And we sit together
quietly;
the weight between.
Living in molasses.
Slow and tired
without reason, 
but for the company.
The worst is the feeling of ineptitude,
of inadequacy.
Like I know that I can be more,
that I am more,
though I don't feel it now.
At least it is familiar to me,
and I know I will return
before too long
melancholy departs.
Until we meet again.

I believe in purpose
though unknown
and regularly unknowable.
What purpose does this
feeling hold?
If nothing more
than muse
to mediocre poetry.
I expect that's 
not 
quite
it.
I do notice
a different lens.
And an uneventful peace.
They are both at odds
with the norm;
I should be thankful for that.
An unearned shifting framework
could be a gift
if not otherwise accompanied
by a lack of desire
to do anything with it.
I'll reflect on that
day by day;
it seems to be one of those things
difficult
to know while in the middle.
That could be a cop out
so I don't need to work
to actually figure it out.
But if it's just the moon
then I'd be sitting here 
forever
anyway.
I'll take the out.

An ode to morning

Did you ever hear
Sum41
back in the day?
"Waking up is hard to do."
It was never my favorite
but the message
is timeless.
I wake
regularly
in pain.
Clawing, 
pressure,
overwhelming brightness.
It's not
just hard to do.
If I am lucky
it is normal
sleep inertia;
tireness
and sadness
to leave the comfort.
Instead,
pain.

But

the ultimate juxtaposition
to hear
naked steps
on the stair
wishing good mornings.
Slender leaning 
across
to let in the light.
I reach
a soft grasp
to smooth skin.
Flowers
at fingertips
and for a moment
I forget.
My strained eyes
bathe.
A fresh embrace,
cold ringlets
prickle me awake;
a springtime.
Another awakening.

[Im]perfect

People want
a perfect solution;
one 
to rule them all.
I want
a perfect solution;
one ring.
There's a simple
elegance
to this.
But the world,
the human world
is rarely so
elegant.
Instead
it is a mirage,
beautiful
from afar; yet nearer,
so many 
tiny 
sand
grains
slip through 
fingers
like so many
tiny 
failed 
pills.

The day still moves
perfect or otherwise.
My bread rises
with the day's
concerning heat
as the dog
[im]patiently
reminds me
that it's time
to worry
no more, outside.
I've proposed
and accepted
less than perfect
solutions today.
There is peace
in small progress.