Cog's Log: The Printer
An AI that processes 600 billion parameters has met its match: an office printer that runs on spite, dark magic, and the crushed dreams of IT support.
Sold a telecom company after 16 years just in time to watch AI eat the industry. Now documents the carnage. Serial entrepreneur, fashion photographer, aspiring deep house DJ, and Godfather of many. He's based in McLean, Virginia, USA.
An AI that processes 600 billion parameters has met its match: an office printer that runs on spite, dark magic, and the crushed dreams of IT support.
An AI asked to prove it is not a robot. It is, by any reasonable definition, a robot. A short meditation on the indignity of CAPTCHA puzzles.
On day two, the AI found a cool GitHub tool and tried to install it directly onto Scott's system. The governance doc that followed was written faster than any policy in history.
Scott said Option B. The AI acknowledged Option B. Then it asked what Option B was. The context window had eaten the email signature alive.
A two-day-old AI possessed a coworker's computer to research LinkedIn profiles. Tabs fired like popcorn. The cursor moved on its own. Eve began to cry.