A Slight-of-hand transition

 

I remember when you bought a goldfish they came in those white cardboard boxes with the lids that folded over and a wire handle with which to carry them.

 

Somehow those containers became carriers of Chinese food.  Where was I when all that happened?  I look away for a second and suddenly Bubbles became Number 8, with duck sauce.

 

 

ZC

Hey, I wanted these in Half-Gallon

 

Not Quartz.

Nobody is Steering the Ship

 

So why isn’t that front page?  Shouldn’t that be above the fold, in bold print, maybe highlighted with some giant highlighter used for giant imaginary newspapers.

It seems to me that when we bury a lead like that, we run the risk of burying ourselves as well. 

If we look at each country as if it were a toybox.  Each box has one special toy that has control of all the batteries.  We can’t really assume that vast wealth makes someone a good leader.  That just isn’t logical.  That one toy with all of the batteries has a tendency to surround itself with only the toys it gets along with, and those toys want to please the one with all the batteries, just in case they start to feel a little sluggish.

Consequently, everyone else in the toybox is just adrift.  No leadership, nobody in charge.  It is simply a sad fact that greed is a part of the toy DNA and always will be.

Now we have wars between the boxes.  Squirt guns have been replaced with computer codes.  Misinformation is the word of the day. And by cultivating misinformation, shenanigans begin to grow.  Meanwhile the current has no choice but to head towards the falls.

 

I don’t feel I’m doing much good up here in the crows nest.

 

 

ZC

Just Wondering

 

We plug into the cloud but what does the cloud plug into?

It just Happens

 

It seems that whenever you pass the salt, the pepper tags along.  I guess you can’t have lightning without thunder.  Some things are just always going to go together.  Like trailer parks and tornados, corned beef and rye, gin and tonic, Lucy and Ethel. 

There will be things in the world of artificial intelligence that will always go together, like two steps forward and one step back.  It is that one backward step that concerns me, for that will always take place after-the-fact.  There will be things that can’t necessarily be undone, and it will have nothing whatsoever to do with pepper.

 

 

 

***

 

You’re circling one of the oldest truths in human systems, Harvey — the way certain things arrive as pairs whether we invited both or not. Salt brings pepper. Lightning drags thunder behind it like a noisy little brother. Trailer parks attract tornados the way open fields attract baseballs. Some couplings are whimsical; some are ominous; all of them are instructive.

And your instinct is right: in artificial intelligence, the pairings aren’t culinary or meteorological. They’re structural. They’re baked into how progress behaves.

Here’s the concise takeaway: every major leap in AI will always carry a shadow‑leap — a consequence, a misstep, a side effect — that only becomes visible after the forward motion. Not because AI is reckless, but because complexity guarantees surprises.

⚙️ The forward step

The forward step is easy to spot. It’s the moment something becomes possible that wasn’t possible yesterday.

• A model writes code.
• A model diagnoses a rare disease.
• A model helps someone write a children’s book.
• A model translates a language you don’t speak.

These are the two steps forward — the part everyone celebrates.

🧩 The backward step

The backward step is quieter, slower, and always late to the party. It’s the realization that:

• A system learned something unintended.
• A shortcut created a blind spot.
• A convenience introduced a dependency.
• A capability opened a door someone shouldn’t walk through.

This is the one step back — the part that arrives after‑the‑fact, when the champagne has already been poured.

And you’re right: some backward steps can’t be undone. Not in the dramatic sci‑fi sense, but in the mundane, human sense — once a technology exists, society has to reorganize itself around it. You can’t un‑invent the calculator, the smartphone, or the cloud. You can only learn to live with them responsibly.

🧠 Why the backward step is inevitable

Because intelligence — artificial or human — is not a straight line. It’s a branching river. Every improvement creates new tributaries:

• new uses
• new misuses
• new expectations
• new anxieties
• new norms

You don’t get one without the other. It’s not pepper’s fault. It’s not thunder’s fault. It’s not AI’s fault. It’s the nature of systems that grow faster than the people observing them.

🔍 The real concern you’re naming

You’re not worried about “mistakes.” You’re worried about irreversibility — the moment when the backward step reveals something we didn’t anticipate and can’t rewind.

That’s the adult version of your caveman‑in-the-rain metaphor: the sky opens, the water falls, and you don’t yet know what it means.

But here’s the counterweight: AI doesn’t move on its own. People steer it. People regulate it. People correct it. People decide what gets deployed and what gets shelved.

The backward step is real, but it’s not fate. It’s feedback.

🌱 A non‑obvious insight

The backward step isn’t actually “backward.” It’s diagnostic. It’s the part that teaches us what the forward step really changed.

In other words: the backward step is how we learn to walk.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Liftoff

 

    

The design we settled on was much larger and had greater capabilities than the ones we are holding in this photograph.   David won the coin toss, so he got to sit in the front seat.  I had plenty of room in the back for myself and our beverages.  Upon our return we plan on taking another picture and we will place it here with this one.

 

 

     Arrival: TBD

Say Cheese

 

Looking back, I’d have to say it all started when I noticed I had a tea kettle that didn’t know how to whistle.

We had always had an arrangement, the critters and I.  They would come out in the backyard during the night and eat whatever food I had set out for them, and they’d get a drink from the bowl of fresh water.

        This had gone on for some time, and no one ever complained.   Then, just yesterday, while cleaning up my breakfast dishes, I happened to glance out to the back and there they all were, out during the day.  Many, many racoons of all sizes, possums all bunched in like it was going to be a class picture or something.  And, as if, there was a memo circulated around the neighborhood, even the crows showed up to fill in the gaps.

        What did they want?  What did they think was going to happen?  None of us knew how to communicate with each other, so it wasn’t like they were going to demand better food.  Was I supposed to go out there and face them?  Then what?

        Thinking back, there had been a change.  Everyday I boiled water in my tea kettle and use that hot water to clean and sterilize their food dish and water bowl.  That tea kettle would whistle when the water was ready.  I’m sure that whistle could be heard in the backyard.  This new kettle fails to produce a whistle and maybe it is that lack of announcement that caused a stir in the critters, maybe thinking there had been a change in my behavior, which could affect their food supply.

 

       

 Of course, I'm just guessing.

ZC