Unrivaled in both variety and quality
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A VIEW FROM THE BRIDGE

Marc Robertson
“Dear Mr. Robertson,” the text read. “I am writing to offer you a unique opportunity to acquire a remarkable collection of live French snails.”
Obviously I don’t know much about French snails, or how to tell them apart from, say, Belgian or Croatian snails. I suppose they’d have different accents.
It was because of this ignorance that I challenged a friend to see whether the artificial intelligence program with which he was experimenting could come up with something that sounded convincing.
Apparently, artificial intelligence (in this case ChatGPT) is now so advanced that it can write about anything you want. That includes, I might add, business letters, college term papers and, yes, graduation ceremony speeches.
“Think of a subject,” he said. “Any subject.”
“Alright. Try selling me a collection of live French snails.”
“What?”
“Yes, I just thought of it off the top of my head.”
“The top of your head must be very odd.”
“Just do it. Dial it up. See whether this program is up to it.”
The program spewed out a lengthy piece of text within seconds.
“As a dedicated enthusiast of gastropods and an advocate for their conservation, I have meticulously cultivated a diverse assortment of these captivating creatures,” the program wrote, “and it is with great pleasure that I extend this proposition to you.”
This, I was sure, must be the way artificial intelligence begins every piece of text, only with different nouns. That can’t be complicated, can it?
“Our collection of live French snails is unrivaled in both variety and quality,” I was told. “These gastropods have been carefully nurtured and are known for their exquisite shells, vibrant colors, and engaging behavior. Whether you are a collector, a gourmet chef, or simply someone who appreciates the natural world, our assortment of live French snails will undoubtedly captivate your interest.”
Well, now that’s a collection of sentences that wouldn’t really apply to much else in this world. There can’t be many times in life when we are called upon to discuss the engaging behavior of French snails. Unless we’re French, of course.
“Our collection includes a range of French snail species, carefully sourced from various regions renowned for their biodiversity,” the program continued. “From Helix pomatia to Helix aspersa, each species offers its own distinctive characteristics and visual appeal. All the snails in our collection are meticulously cared for to ensure their optimal health and well-being.”
This, let me remind you, from a program that derives all of its information from what humans have told it in the past or have discussed somewhere on the internet. It was written by a machine that actually has no idea what a snail is, or France, for that matter.
Why? Because it doesn’t need to know. Everything that can be told is already out there, somewhere.
It’s just a matter of knowing how to arrange words.
In a curious way, artificial intelligence proves to us daily that while the brains may be absent, knowledge appears to remain.
A computer may even create boldfaced lies.
“As a dedicated enthusiast, I am more than happy to provide you with comprehensive information and guidance on the care, feeding, and maintenance of these delightful creatures,” the program wrote. “I believe in sharing knowledge and fostering a community of snail enthusiasts.”
No, you don’t.
You don’t really exist.
This newspaper published its first digital photo in 1997. I was here to see it happen. The technology was exciting, but the possibilities were frightening. Today, a new door has been opened, and all the furies may soon be released.
Let me pledge to you, however, that journalism by real people with real eyes and ears on the community must and will prevail.
Have no fear, but bring the garlic butter.