THE EAVESDROPPER CHRONICLES PART 1

Overheard a conversation about Artificial Intelligence and Machine Learning at an exclusive Club, between a gentleman and his butler:

(Any resemblance with another famous Gentleman and his equally famous Butler is purely coincidental.

No, really).

B: Ahoy J, old chap!

I need you to oil the old thinking tank again.

Been doing a spot of thinking, myself. Rum thing, this.

J: Sir?

B: There’s this new bloke in town, I hear.

Bit of a problem chap.

He’s been muddying the waters, rather.

J: If I may be so bold as to inquire, Sir?

What’s the name of this gentleman?

B: Chap goes by the name of AI ML.

Funny name, that, J.

Whoever heard of such a thing?

J: That would not be a, how you call it, bloke, Sir.

That’s an acronym, describing a path breaking technology, referred to as Artificial Intelligence and Machine Learning.

B: You don’t say!

They’re making the machines learn now?

This need to teach others is reaching rather epic proportions, J.

J: Not quite, Sir.

The machines are doing their own learning.

B: Oh Pish Tosh, J.

Or is it Ooh, Aah?

I’m never able to keep up with these darned millennials.

J: Sir, that would be Generation Alpha.

The millennial generation passed us three decades ago.

B: Did it now?

I must have been dozing, then.

Am I so far behind the times, J?

J: It would seem so, Sir.

Then again, not many know about AI and ML.

B: So tell me.

They say this AL and ML, whatever it is, it’s going to give the good old Heave Ho to all the honest chappies.

Whisk the bread from under their table.

Butter too.

J: That seems to be the popular, or rather, popularly unpopular thought, Sir.

But that’s not going to be the case.

B: Ah J. Never known you to be the eternal optimist.

You’re always as effervescent as a stuffed frog.

But you seem to be singing today, that the lark’s on the wing and well, something’s on the thorn, dash it - what was that on the thorn, J?

J: Snail, Sir.

B: Snail, was it?

Adventurous little chap.

It’ll be winter by the time he gets to the ground.

But I am egressing.

Or is it digressing?

J: Digressing, Sir.

You were casting a grey pall on the ramifications of the use of generative AI on the human populace, I believe, Sir.

B: Quite. Quite.

Not the preux chevalier way I would have put it.

But let’s waddle back to the topic, again, J.

J: Sir?

B: You mentioned that this AL ML thingy is not going to be the piranha in the pond.

The Piper isn’t coming to town and the rats will still get the cheese, eh?

J: I believe you have summed it up quite nicely, Sir.

A little off with the metaphor, but close enough, Sir.

B: The dickens I have.

The world and its oyster are screaming from the rooftops about this bilge and we are compla… what’s the word, now?

Something about being unnecessarily content.

J: Complacent, Sir, I believe, was the word you were looking for.

B: Righto. Complacent.

Too much complacency going around in the world, J.

Why the Sam Hill would you say we’re not affected?

J: It’s artificial, Sir. It doesn’t have natural intelligence. For starters.

B: Ah, J. You place a premium on the pickled onion that’s gyrating in our heads.

At the risk of pitching a false flag at the summit of your Everest, let me regurgitate my piece, J.

AI and ML are going to take that pickled onion and make a paste of it.

What was it that the poet Burns said about pickled onions, J? Or was it Keats?

J: I believe the topic of pickled onions did not come up in the poetic discourse, Sir.

B: It didn’t? That’s a gross travesty if there ever was one.

It should have.

AI and ML would have recommended it.

J: Surely you jest Sir. You make them sound like Bonnie and Clyde.

It’s a most serious topic, Sir.

B: Alright, but tell me this.

How many blokes, who’ve filled their empty skulls with a college degree, have shaken the dust off those books idling away in the library bookshelves and put them to good use, under the retinal scanner, J?

They all ran, J.

Took their rather egregious diplomas and degrees and skedaddled to the hills.

Scraped the banisters in their desperation.

I hope they tore their vests to ribbons on the way out.

J: I believe very few have continued their learning journey, Sir.

B: Precisely.

And the rest of the populace has concluded that a degree brings them all the relevant wisdom in the world and nobody needs to polish their skulls every now and then.

J: Well put, Sir. That would seem to be the overarching esoteric inclination, Sir.

B: Right. And what does AI do?

Like a pasty faced, anti-social student, it spends all it’s time, learning, J.

It learns and keeps learning.

You used that word - degenerate AI, right?

ChatGPT, I believe it was?

J: Generative, Sir. Not degenerate.

And Yes Sir. That’s the sensation of the moment, Sir.

B: And ChatGPT is learning the good stuff, J.

And it’s learning and unlearning and relearning.

Which we numbskulls are not ready to do, because we believe we’ve far too much wisdom packed inside our little grey skulls.

J: Little grey Cells, Sir, I believe you refer to.

And yes - You do have a point, Sir.

We have a resistance to self motivated learning, after landing a source of income that addresses our self actualisation needs.

B: Maslo, eh? Rum chap.

Blighter mustn’t have married. Spent his life building metaphorical pyramids.

Went ballistic at the end, didn’t he? Or berserk, if I’ve got the adjective right.

J: His work is rather well renowned, Sir.

And the person you’re referring to, was someone else.

B: Sure, J, Sure. If you say so.

Don’t get your bagpipes in a tizzy. I meant no harm.

So, what happens next, J? The Terminator series coming true, eh?

That slop had driven me to a balmy sleep, but now it’s acting like an alarm clock.

This planet will become inhospitable for humans, I guess - we’ll be packed off to the moon and beyond.

Bit of a trip that, to get into a rocket and go to Mars. Live off an oxygen cylinder.

And where will we get tea, J?

Musk will open tea stalls on Mars, J?

J: It won’t come to that, Sir. We will still be at the helm of things.

AI and ML won’t make humans obsolete, Sir. But it’s up to humans now, to innovate and learn and adapt.

B: But That’s an upward journey, J.

And anything that requires an effort and a commitment and doesn’t have the words “Irish” or “cards” or “ladies”, isn’t going to be popular, J.

Not with the bread and butter laddies.

Not with the rest too. We’re kind of equally kosher, that way.

J: AL and ML is already making people adapt, Sir.

Everyone is now thinking strategically, looking to automate what they are doing and spend more time thinking.

B: Correct me if I’m flying off the rocks, J.

What you’re telling me is that AL and ML is like this technological outsourced agency that will do what’s told to them.

Kind of like a well-oiled husband, eh, who’s up to the gills in “Yes Dears”?

J: AI and ML, Sir, would be like a trained outsourced agency, Sir, which also learns.

It identifies patterns and trends and does an analysis.

All that in microseconds and with an unmatched accuracy. It’s better than husbands.

B: Well I’ll be a monkey’s uncle, J.

Like my teachers used to say, after looking at my photos.

If it’s going to do all of that, what are us, poor humans going to do?

J: It can’t be creative, Sir.

It can’t create quality products and render quality services.

It can’t do innovative marketing, Sir.

It can interpret laws but it can’t find innovative solutions to navigate them.

And it lacks sympathy and empathy and compassion, Sir.

It’s a machine. It’s a technology.

B: Lacks compassion, eh?

Now I see why some noble entrepreneurs identify with it.

J: All I’m saying Sir is that there’s a lot that it can’t do, which only humans can.

B: That brings the sunbeam back into my life, J.

J: And speaking of data analytics and identifying patterns and trends and forecasting and learning from those, well, Sir, it’s the quality of data and inputs that’s equally important.

If the data sets are wrong, AI will give a totally wrong output, Sir.

And it won’t even know that.

B: Well, that should scare the bejabbers of several hot shot tech blighters.

J: I shouldn’t be surprised if it doesn’t, Sir.

And for catastrophic events, AI and ML can’t do a thing.

It’s got to be human intervention and human enterprise and human will and spirit that has to triumph.

B: Ah, the human spirit.

Speaking of spirits, J, I’m in need of a few drops of the finest.

See if you can get some from the tap.

You’ve been a good fellow and calmed my nerves.

J: I am glad to have been of help, Sir.

And to continue in the same vein, Sir, it doesn’t understand disputes and litigation, Sir.

It doesn’t understand humour.

But I would caution you here, Sir. It’s trying to learn. Everything.

And it’s succeeding much more times than it fails.

It doesn’t give up, Sir.

B: There you’ve given me a plum cake to eat, J.

The foolishness of the human race to create conflicts with each other and with themselves, I don’t think AL and ML can do that.

J: Yes, Sir. It’s just a vastly speedier and advanced form of technology that we’re using.

But it’s learning at a geometric rate, Sir. That’s the caveat.

We can’t lose sight of that.

B: There you go, dragging the black cloud over the rainbow, again, J.

Just when I was thinking of playing hooky today and spending a dull afternoon, the way dull afternoons were intended to be spent.

What’s this about geometric rate, then?

J: All I’m saying, Sir, is that automation and AI were in our rearview mirrors before.

They’ve overtaken us, Sir.

They’re not our masters, yet, but they’re poised to be, if we’re not careful.

But that’s still in our hands, Sir. We still have time.

If we innovate and collaborate together and continue to learn, the machine can only learn our experiences. Sir.

B: A bit more clear, J.

But not by much.

J: All I’m saying, Sir, is that as long as learning and innovation is happening, AI and ML can never conclude that they know everything and that human beings are redundant. They’re only as good as the training they’re given and the content they’re fed.

If we keep on learning and innovating, that part is an endless continuum.

B: You’ve restored the spirits, J.

You’ve breathed some life back into this old fogey.

Think I’ll give the tap and the calendarised golf course a miss and head to the library, eh?

J: That would be most instructive, Sir. A step in the right direction.

And you could motivate the others as well.

B: Kind of dusty, those shelves.

A lot of hoo-haa on ancient history and the classics, eh?

J: They represent the finest of our traditions, Sir.

The mortals render their thoughts on paper and become immortal with such rendition and these thoughts, travelling over time and generation have uplifted many a troubled soul.

B: That’s a bit hard on the noggin, but I get your drift, old boy.

The gang used to regard this as a lot of hooey.

But I guess there’s something to be said about preserving old traditions, what?

Like old wine.

J: I do echo your sentiments, Sir.

B: Well I’ll be off, J.

A toodle-loo and tah tah to you, old bean.

J: Have a nice day, Sir.

I’ve already booked your choice seat at the library, Sir.

I thought you would regard my observations with a certain level of seriousness, Sir.

B: Oh that’s so nice of you.

Much obliged, J.

J: Not at all, Sir.