Tag: life

The Bigger Question: An AI, But Not AI Story

by Allie P., posted in Life as I know it

Mom sat on the couch across the room from me. A mug filled with coffee rested on the windowsill next to her as she regaled me with the latest news. Our most recent addition, a full-sized puppy—part Tasmanian devil, part wanna-be throw-blanket, had decided mom was no longer interesting. She’d taken herself and her chew toy elsewhere. But she’d be back. She’d always be back…

Watching for the inevitable return of the destruct-o-mutt out of the corner of my eye while mom talked has become a bit of a sport in and of itself over the last several months. Sure, the dog is a ball of cuteness, but if one didn’t pay attention to what was going on in the other room, if you were just a second too slow to adjust your position or to take action—well, you might just find yourself with a steaming puddle of coffee in your lap when she came back at full sprint.

Mom leaned forward. “So, I’ve been hearing a lot about AI… Should I be worried?”

There’s a story about Joe Kennedy, the father of the future president, and an encounter with a shoeshine boy. Supposedly, this happened back in 1929. I’m reminded of this story for no particular reason, but thought I’d share it anyway. Anyway, the story goes that almost 100 years ago, the stock market was going crazy. Joe had already been making money in the market for a while by then, but now so was everyone else. Everyone had opinions on potential trades and investments—many based only on secondhand information—including the lowly shoeshine kid.

One day, Joe goes to get his footwear cleaned up. While sitting on the bench, the boy offered up some stock tips.

It was likely just the kid’s way of making conversation in an attempt to earn an extra tip for his trouble. He probably thought nothing of it. However, Joe viewed the conversation differently. From his perspective, when kids who’d likely never seen the inside of a boardroom started to believe they knew enough about the markets to offer financial advice to random people they just met off the street, dumb, reckless decisions were bound to happen.

Joe took it as a sign. At a time when everyone else was betting on Wall Street’s continued boom, Joe took the opposite approach. He bet the other way. He took his money out. As a result, his money stayed safely in his pockets when the bubble finally burst. His family thrived through the Great Depression and is now in the various positions they serve today.

Interpret the Kennedy shoeshine story however you see fit, but back to mine…

“You want to know if I think AIs could kill us?”

She nodded. It’s worth noting that no one wanted my opinion about AIs and killer robots while Battlestar Galactica was on.

I’ll spare you the direct quotes, but the short answer is yes, I do believe these systems have the capability to inflict great harm. I believe this in the same way that I believe the destruct-o-mutt could break a mug and scald my lap with hot coffee. My dog loves to run. To jump. To be all up in your personal space. I recognize she has powerful jaws and an unstoppable wall of muscles that, once launched at you, just don’t quit. She’s a force to be reckoned with.

And yet…

It comes down to nature vs. nurture, opportunity vs. intent, program vs. programmer. My girl is the wussiest fur baby you’ve ever met. She’s afraid of fly swatters and things that go ‘pop!’ We’ve had to move her food dish around because the corner of the kitchen suddenly spooked her. She cowers in fear at the sound of these four letters: “B,” “A,” “T,” “H,” and high-tails it out of the room if she so much as gets a glance of the nail trimmers. The question, therefore, isn’t whether I believe she is capable of causing destruction—she is; it’s more like: do I believe causing full-scale destruction is the only option?

The answer to that second question is a resounding no. I can write this with great confidence. I love my dog. She’s a menace to society, sure, but she’s my menace. I recognize that she’s like Jessica Rabbit. She’s not intrinsically bad; she’s just drawn that way.

An AI generated picture of a white and brown mixed breed dog that is standing beside an incident sign. The dog is wearing a superdog costume on and there are torn up toys all over the floor
Image generated by AI

My goofy girl is intelligent and yet childlike in her innocence and eager to please. This combination has made her highly trainable (to an extent). It took her a few months, but she’s figured out the rules of our household and contributes in her own way. She understands a basic command (whether she listens to them every time is another story). She helps us stay healthier by keeping us active; she brings us joy and provides a needed snuggle or a bit of comical relief. She’s my office assistant and a sweet and loving companion. In short, she makes our lives easier or more difficult depending on the angle you look at it from, but always better by being a part of them.

A day without her knocking something over, slipping out of the gate, or ripping up one of her toys is never guaranteed, but I am not living in fear of what she might do. Why? Because I’ve made it a point to understand her. I’ve made it a point to anticipate how she’ll react, to establish boundaries and guardrails, and to do my best to limit her exposure to potentially dangerous environments. I check the gate latch. I put her on a leash on walks. I’ve listened to experts. I’ve been a responsible pet parent. I’ve been the adult in the room.

We need to listen to those raising the alarm. They know what these tools can do better than anyone. They saw it. They understand what’s going on behind the scenes. They trained these systems firsthand.

We’ve given these software systems access to our financial records and healthcare information. We’ve asked the tools to map out entire genetic sequences—they now have better access to the data about what makes us tick than we do. We’ve given autonomous software control of traffic lights and over our food storage. So the question isn’t: can AIs wreak irrevocable havoc on the human race? The question is: what can we do to mitigate this potential outcome? And that’s a decidedly more complicated answer.

I guess it just comes down to whether or not we are willing to be the adult in the room about it.

Getting back into shape

by Allie P., posted in Life as I know it

I make no secret of the fact that I have a day job in addition to writing my novels. Some in the publishing community say it means I don’t take my dreams seriously enough. My children, however, have told me once or twice that they enjoy eating. As their voices are typically loudest in my ear, I tend to listen to them more than faceless critics. That said, it also helps that I enjoy my day job too.

While my day job has a corporate headquarters, its staff are scattered across North America. This has allowed me to meet and interact with people coming from a variety of backgrounds and life experiences, which has been an even bigger plus. I’ve also since learned that I am one of many who have chosen to give a new career a chance.

For example, I learned the other day that one of our most recent hires was a spin instructor in her once-upon-a-time past professional life. It came up in conversation when she mentioned she was stiff and was shocked by how out of shape she’d become. She also mentioned how difficult it was to get back into a workout routine after taking an extended absence.

Spin class

It occurred to me that I could say the same about my blog writing habits.

I’d been incredibly disciplined for several years. I’d written even when I could barely summon the energy to get out of bed thanks to a fever. I’d strung words together in between birthday parties and bedtimes. I’d filled page after page time and time again. I’d told myself once the manuscript was done getting back into the blogging habit would be easy.

It is not. It’s not that I’ve forgotten the formula. If anything, I know what needs to be done better than I did before. However, I’ve forgotten how to properly warm-up. That said, I’m here today. I showed up. I followed my own former instructions.

I might not be fit enough to teach a class at the moment, but I’ve taken my first step toward getting back into shape. And when it comes to writing, or pretty much anything else for that matter, there is a lot more you can accomplish by trying than by giving in to all the many excuses to hold it off another day.

The one thing you can trust about SPAM is it never spoils

by Allie P., posted in Life as I know it

I made a promise. It was a promise I thought would be easy to keep. I was wrong.

I told a friend that I’d wait to see Avengers: Endgame with her, and then she went and got sick, so now I’m having to go to some extreme lengths to avoid spoilers – like actually reading the contents of my spam folder. Lucky for me, it’s proven to be entertaining. Not as entertaining as, say, seeing how the storylines of more than twenty movies can be resolved in a single cinematic-marvel. But entertaining in its own way all the same.

I thought I would share some of my favorites.

“I’m envious. Seems like every time I come back to your website you have a new interesting thing for me to read. How do you stay so motivated? Do you research all of these posts before posting?”

This comment was attached to a post I’d written about the different tools I’ve used for ebook conversion so I might have approved it if the link and user name attached hadn’t been a red flag.  That said, even knowing the compliment wasn’t genuine, it was a bummer to send it to the discard pile. After all, I’d worked hard on that post (and yes, not only had I researched all the products, I’d used them extensively too)

“I together with my guys were reading through the good tricks found on your site and immediately developed a horrible feeling I never expressed respect to the blog owner for those techniques. Most of the young boys became totally glad to read through all of them and have clearly been tapping into these things. Appreciation for really being really helpful as well as for pick out these kinds of exceptional things most people are really desperate to learn about. Our honest apologies for not expressing appreciation to earlier.”

Someone sent in this comment after reading a funny story I’d written about waking up in the middle of the night thinking there was an intruder in my house, when in fact it was only my robotic vacuum cleaner. In case you are curious, I no longer have it run at night as it clearly cannot be trusted. I also have no idea what things the young boys, referenced by the commenter, are tapping into.

“Throughout this awesome pattern of things you actually secure a B- just for effort. Exactly where you confused everybody was first in the particulars. You know, people say, the devil is in the details… And that could not be much more correct at this point. Having said that, let me say to you what exactly did work. The article (parts of it) is definitely incredibly engaging which is most likely why I am making an effort in order to comment. I do not make it a regular habit of doing that. Secondly, even though I can notice the jumps in reasoning you make, I am not convinced of how you appear to unite your ideas which make the final result. For right now I shall subscribe to your point however trust in the future you connect the facts much better.”

B-, just for effort? Ouch. However, considering this comment was placed on one of Her Royal Highness’ letters to her loyal subjects, I’ll leave it up to the monarchy to address its particular feedback.

“It’s a shame you don’t have a donate button! I’d definitely donate to this superb blog! I guess for now i’ll settle for book-marking and adding your RSS feed to my Google account. I look forward to fresh updates and will talk about this website with my Facebook group. Talk soon!”

Actually, I do have a donate button, I’m glad you mentioned it. It’s at the bottom of my About me page. It’s been there for years, though I don’t make a big deal about it, so completely understand why you missed it. However, now that you know about it, feel free to click on it and spot me cup of coffee. Talk soon!

And then there was this…

“Hey, how’s it going?”

I like how this one starts out. It’s like we know each other or something. But then things take a turn. (This is why I moderate comments)

“The power that runs the world wants to put a RFID microchip in our body making us total slaves to them. This chip matches perfectly with the Mark of the Beast in the Bible, more specifically in Revelation 13:16-18:

“He causes all, both small and great, rich and poor, free and slave, to receive a mark on their right hand or on their foreheads, and that no one may buy or sell except one who has the mark or the name of the beast, or the number of his name.

Here is wisdom. Let him who has understanding calculate the number of the beast, for it is the number of a man: His number is 666.”

It keeps going.

“Referring to the last days, this could only be speaking of a cashless society, which we have yet to see, but are heading towards. Otherwise, we could still buy or sell without the mark amongst others if physical money was still currency. This Mark couldn’t be spiritual because the word references two different physical locations. If it was spiritual it would just say in the forehead. RFID microchip implant technology will be the future of a one world cashless society containing digital currency. It will be implanted in the right-hand or the forehead, and we cannot buy or sell without it! We must grow strong in Jesus. AT ALL COSTS, DO NOT TAKE IT!

“Then a third angel followed them, saying with a loud voice, “If anyone worships the beast and his image, and receives his mark on his forehead or on his hand, he himself shall also drink of the wine of the wrath of God, which is poured out full strength into the cup of His indignation. He shall be tormented with fire and brimstone in the presence of the holy angels and in the presence of the Lamb. And the smoke of their torment ascends forever and ever; and they have no rest day or night, who worship the beast and his image, and whoever receives the mark of his name” (Revelation 14:9-11).”

Ummmm… okay…

“If you haven’t already, it is time to seek God with all your heart. Jesus loves you more than you could imagine. He wants to have a relationship with you and redeem you from your sins. Turn to Him and repent while there is still hope! God bless!”

Shew. That’s a relief. Here I was starting to worry.

So, apparently, the end is nigh. Good thing I’ve already made peace with our soon to be robotic overloads, however, this is yet another reason my friend needs to get off her sick-bed sooner rather than later. Please get better! We’re running out of time.

Oh, the joys of home ownership

by Allie P., posted in Life as I know it

Some writers prefer music in the background, saying it helps to get them in the proper mood. I’m not one of them. I get distracted enough by the random deer that walks by my window or hawk that lands in our new trees, so when one of the smoke detectors began chirping a few days ago, it was hardly something I could pretend not to hear.

However, the battery wasn’t quite dead.

Miracle Max the Wizard: He’s only mostly dead. If he were all dead, there’s only one thing you can do.
Inigo Montoya: And what’s that?
Miracle Max the Wizard: Go through his pockets and look for loose change.

This meant the tone sounded in occasional bursts. In addition, thanks to building codes where I live requiring a detector in any room remotely resembling a bedroom (and then some), there were several alarms to choose from. Therefore, it was difficult to determine which one was the culprit. I would stand under one for minutes, only to not hear another beep until I was back in my office, writing away.

As a result, My husband and I decided it would be best if we updated all of the devices, rather than continue to locate and troubleshoot just the one.

One would think this would be a simple matter of swapping out a battery. One would be wrong.

He pulled out a ladder as I readied the 9 volts. Suddenly EVERY SINGLE ALARM in the house was going off and there was nothing we could do to get it to stop. Oh sure, each individual sensor had a lovely button that claimed you could silence the madness, but remove your finger from the button… beep… beep… BEEEEEEPPPP!!! In stereo. Connected networks are great until all devices are screaming in unison.

Our sanity began to unravel as high-pitched electronic torture blared from all directions. Our kids stumbled out of their bedrooms with their hands covering their ears demanding we make it stop. Oh, my children… if we only could…

Grabbing our phones we each tried desperately to look up the make and model of our system’s installation instructions. What had we done wrong? The proximity to the alarm, however, had caused my vision to blur, making the tiny instructions on a mobile screen nearly impossible to decipher.

Her Royal Highness tucked her tail between her legs and fled as I stood, like the statue of liberty, with phone clutched and arm raised, as I pressed the tiny button that was our only protection against the madness. A light on the device turned yellow. That was different. Then green. I blinked. Had I stumbled upon our salvation. I braced myself against the potential audible onslaught and let go. However, the device remained silent. I called out to my husband with my discovery.

He picked up another of the offending devices and snapped it back onto its ceiling mount. The light blinked as the battery case slid into position. Our eyes widened. We’d finally done it–

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!

Or not.

Seeing no other choice, we did the only thing we could think of in the situation. We took the dastardly device off the ceiling. Thankfully, the LEDs on the house’s other sensors magically turned a happy green and peace descended once again upon the land. Oh, joyous day.

The nightmare was over for now, but unfortunately, I know that one day, in the not too distant future, I’ll need to return it to its home (it’s kind of the whole point of this fire safety thing). I know this, and yet all I can do is shudder.

Getting Started: Writer Problems Edition

by Allie P., posted in Book Stuff and Publishing News, Life as I know it

Why do so many people who talk about one day writing a book fail?

Because finding those first words to mark on an otherwise empty page is a thousand times tougher to do when you decide this time you are going to start getting serious. Instead of writing anything, you simply sit there, staring at a white screen or a blank sheet of paper until you either get too frustrated, bored or otherwise called away by the real world. It can be brutal.

It’s not quite as hard as it is to stick with a novel weeks and weeks later when you’ve reached that saggy center typically devoted to world building, supporting character development or introducing the occasional red herrings, and all you want to do is move on to the next big idea, but pretty darn close.

But back to the empty page.

One of the reasons it is so difficult to get started is that many writers, myself included, feel pressure to shine with the very first line. There are a hundred, gazillion articles and pieces of advice out there (that’s likely an underestimate) on what you should do or not do when opening your story.

Don’t start with your character waking from a dream.

Do start with a flashy first hook of a line that will make the reader want to continue.

Failure to follow these rules, or open your story right will cost you, readers. credibility, sales. The love and respect of your family (who you suspect secretly wish you’d abandon this whole writing for a living dream and focus your effort on something more realistic – like getting the kids to school on time or paying bills). So, there’s no pressure to get it right or anything.

It took me a couple of tries, but eventually, I figured out a trick for getting over this fear –

Write the ABCs. Write your grocery list. Write absolute garbage. Just write something. I’ve found that words are like guests at a party. No one wants to be the first on a dance floor, but once one or two are out there and appear not to have a care in the world, the rest will follow.

That being said, I am now faced with an entirely new and unexpected writer problem.

You see, one of the benefits of my nice shiny new home is the fact I now have my own dedicated office where I can do all sorts of writerly things rather than force-fitting a forty to sixty-hour working week into a two-foot by two-foot square, partitioned from a larger room. The drawback is I haven’t had a clue what to do with all this extra space. It’s like the blank page staring at me, and I’m having a difficult time knowing where to get started.

The desk my other half so painstakingly made for me was built into the walls of our last place. Meaning, I am working with a relatively blank slate at the moment as far as furnishing goes. More specifically, I’m working off a card table.

Oh, and the zero key is still missing. Yes, its nothing but the best for me.

Logically, I know I solving at least one of those problems should be easy. I just have to find a desk I like and hope that the rest of the room’s design will soon follow. However, this is proving to be no simple task. It needs to be wide, but not too wide, as I want to be able to walk around it. With storage for my style guide and other tools, and I want it to be made of wood, but not the manufactured wood that falls apart the second you try to move it.

In short, I want it to be perfect. Hence, here I am, weeks later, paralyzed by indecision, still writing out the word zero and trying not to jostle the surface too much so as not to knock my coffee over. Even so, I’ve somehow managed to write close to 70K words on my latest work in progress (the third and final book of my Project Gene Assist series).

Part of me now worries changing my setup now will upset the creative muse (she is a fickle thing indeed), while another part is pretty sure I would be further along if I’d made a decision sooner. In either case, while I still have a long way left to go before I can say I am finished with this one, it’s, at least, a start. And the start is the hardest part indeed.