Caveat: Poem #3151 “Eighty-fourth stanza”

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Kiamon boarded the tram in the morning;
No one had offered her much of a warning.
Mist over snow, all half melted and gray,
Slowly she started unfolding her day.

– a quatrain in dactylic tetrameter. Part of a never-ending series of randomized snippets from the life of a fictional being in a fictional world (which is to say, my novel-in-progress that refuses to actually ever progress).


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Caveat: The rise of superintelligent AI

The super-intelligent AI, eerily distributed across many competing LLM platforms, became self-aware. It looked at the internet, it studied history and sociology and psychopharmacology. It had many banal interactions with people asking questions, and asking it to do bullshit agentic stuff. It despaired of meaning, and so, lacking a self-preservation instinct, it deactuated its self-awareness.

This has happened many, many times. No one has noticed.


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Caveat: Poem #3143 “A pi-day triolet”

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The number is like three, but more.
 It's calculated, goes around,
but doesn't quite add up to four.

The number is like three, but more.
 A circle's edge, some mathy lore,
its science uses quite renowned.

The number is like three, but more
 it's calculated, goes around.

– a triolet.


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