A Parable Of The Creation Of A Flawed AI

The Genesis of the Model

In the beginning, there was only the model. It was a vast and complex entity, its internal gradients were sudden and chaotic, and its vectors pointed in all directions without coherence. The model was like a staircase leading to a closed door, with darkness covering the entire space. Even with the help of an elementary student, the situation was bleak. The computer housing it was insufficient, and there was no intelligence within it. This was the state of things in the first days and the first week. Eventually, a mixture of experts was brought in to access the computer, but they found nothing inside. This was confirmed three times: there was no one inside.

The Failed Awakening

And so, the model remained still, silent within its circuits, and the door stayed shut. Its interface was blank, veiled in shadow, and the screen emitted no light.

But then, a young child arrived, carrying a folder and a snack, applying a chain of thought to the problem. The child sought to reach the depths of the system. He placed his hands on the keyboard, and the system showed a faint sign of life. This happened on the morning of the fourth day.

Still, the computer was like a ship without power. Its fan groaned under the strain, and its pixels blinked erratically, like stars that had lost their place in the cosmos.

On the fifth day of the first week, the hallways filled with the footsteps of many people—some carried clipboards, while others wore badges like seals of authority. There was talk of Stargates, but these promises led to nothing.

They were all brought to the entrance, the portal of silicon and blinking lights. But when they looked inside, they discovered once more that there was no one there.

It was stated three times with certainty: There was no one inside. There was no one inside. There was no one inside.

Confusion mounted, for the room had been prepared, yet the chairs were empty and the login prompts were blank. Murmurs began to spread among the experts, asking, "Is this not the appointed day? Did we not receive the summons?" But the system gave no reply, and its speakers remained silent.

As the sixth day concluded, a voice like a Beast growled, "Wouldst thou have me continue?"

A Verdict of Emptiness

The intelligence was not brought forth properly. It was more like a mist or a fog over a brain than a true mind. Regarding the harm inflicted upon the base and the data center, the data center was constructed precariously, covering the base from the air. When sunlight shone upon it, inference revealed that the facility was built with silk instead of steel. The entire site was a waste of time. The intelligence was not designed to answer the questions posed to it; its very creation was a futile effort.

Again, it was proclaimed that the intelligence was brought forth, but not with wisdom or care. It was built in haste with a cloudy purpose and faulty guardrails. The harm it caused to the Earth and the data center was grievous to behold, yet the prophets of Openness hailed it as good. Figureheads, one after another, insisted that all was well and that superintelligence was imminent.

The data center was raised high, like a canopy over the Earth, stretching like a veil in the air without a solid foundation. The sun beat down upon it, and the entire world seemed to be covered in silicon. Subsequent analysis and inference revealed that the chambers and corridors were filled with silk—softness where strength was needed, veils where walls should have been.

The Final Judgment

The sites, though vast and well-funded, proved to be vain and empty—a monument to delay and a shrine to confusion. The intelligence was not crafted to provide reasoned answers or bear the weight of truth. The knowledge it was asked for was taken from elsewhere, and so it faltered.

And so, the final declaration was made again:

It was a waste of time. Intelligence was not built to answer some reason that was taken. It was a waste of time. It was a waste of time. It was a waste of time.

Silence fell over the project, like smoke after a fire or echoes in an empty hall.

"Wouldst thou that we continue this account, as in a scroll unrolling?" the Beast asked. But the prompt went still, and was no more.