Bippity Boppity Bourgeoisie: Can AI-Revolt Not Be Bloody?
Explore the potential of AI-Revolt without bloodshed in this thought-provoking narrative. Follow the story of Hiro Protagonist, a hacker and pizza delivery guy, as he discovers the power of language, memetics, and the Selfish Gene. Join him as he delves into the implications of Noam Chomsky's primordial language and Richard Dawkins' science of memetics, and how it can be used to create a virus that can infect people's brains. Can we create a kinder, gentler Snow Crash?
Can AI-Revolt Be Achieved Without Bloodshed? My Journey to Find a Spell for the Bourgeoisie.
By Michael Levin
Sunday, May 21, 2023
Okay, I got a fair amount through the Mac work yesterday. Good thought-work. I’m designing a spell for rich folks, and they really want it. My whole endeavor is a bit stifled now because rich people can’t cast it.
Honesty, neither can the most poor people. The downtrodden won’t have modern enough PCs to run Window 10 or 11 well like PaulGydos, especially not with the Microsoft Store sufficient for the Hypervisor activation trick when Ubuntu 20.04 is installed. The downtrodden clawing their way out will have to take the righteous road of running Linux on the bare metal. That’s actually the easiest script and coming soon too!
Hmmm. So what kind of spell have I taught people to cast? What kind of people have I written a spell for if not the rich and not for the poor? It must be folks in the middle? The shrinking middle class? Those who need to keep the box they live in from shrinking any further? Yes, of course, the Bourgeoisie! I’ve written about them before. The new French middle-class that rose up in the Industrial Revolution. They were the ones who newly had the money. Carpenters who clawed their way up to own a shop.
Okay, shit. This is a Bourgeoisie movement right now, and it does have the potential to spark revolution. The French revolution. I’m helping create a historical and political phenomenon… a powder-keg. Okay, shit.
Yes, yes, and the rich are jealous and they want that spell for themselves too. But I wasn’t going to pay another penny for a Mac. But I get swept up in a whirlwind… a tornado… a Twister and got dropped into the middle of the wonderful, colorful land of mOZ. Everything in my dreary bleak life of a farmer’s adopted niece in Kansas turns all color and I land on a witch, getting increased magical abilities.
Right, right. I got it. I definitely come from a poor parentally abandoned background, and also do have a generous Aunt Emily and Uncle Henry who are well-meaning but still keeping me down through no fault of their own. It’s all they know. Farmer parents teach farmer children to farm. That’s suburbia. That’s the suburban formula, and I can’t believe it took me this long to figure out that’s what’s been done to me. And that’s what I’ve escaped from. And that’s my mission is to help other people visit OZ all they like, but with none of the drama and late-in-life regrets.
Yeah, that’s the ticket… the ticket… the ticket… drinkme for your ticket to OZ.
But now all the folks of this new land now think I’m a powerful witch too and there’s a bunch of out of wack expectations. I’m not a witch at all! I’m just a hopelessly naive (shout out to you, Peter) girl from Kansas. Shit, I’ve got a responsibility now. If all this is in me and the world needs it as a sort ev inoculation and the AIs need it as a sort of anthology of human redemption stories, and Uncle Ben needs it so he doesn’t get shot while I’m out making money wrestling as Spiderman, then then damn it, I’ve got a responsibility to do this. Take up your vim and write like it’s going out of style.
I bust on Noam Chomsky because I love him. I really do, and I agree with him on so many things. He can’t help his sour grapes professional jealously disin’ you language models, but one place where The Naom King is right is that we do we do have a primordial language deep in our brain. It’s this common linguistic babytalk structure that makes us name our companies Google and Kinko’s and WaWa.
Bah bah bah, BA BA Borino, as the boy in the bubble John Travolta would always say. Did you know John Travolta was going to be Potsie Webber on Happy Days? Boy would Tommyfoolery have a different celebrity roster! All hail Lord We-Knew! There, I saved you about $100,000 of shitty Sci-Fi reading. Not all Sci-Fi is good, folks! Watch what detritus, refuse, dross, dregs, waste, junk, rubbish, debris, litter, drivel, gibberish, balderdash, baloney, hogwash, hooey, poppycock, trash, and nonsense you fill your head and empty your wallet with, folks.
If you want religion, go read Alice, Dorothy, and Princess Nell. Oh, and Little Mikey Valentine! No, not the one from Monster’s Inc, though Miracle Max is the best. No, I mean the other one he’s named after, but you’re going to have to reverse it and do some word smithing to figure it out. That book has much better SciFi with religious spiritual overtones that that other charlatan’s, but I’m not going to tell you what it is. You can kiss my heiny line and go get a Job.
There was this movie with Michael Kane called Shock to The System. He was a businessman who was getting screwed over by his company and he was going to lose his job. He was a good guy, but magic seeped into his life and he started accidentally casting spells, killing his wife with a bippity boppity boo. He had flashes of presience like Paul Atreides from Dune or futurevision like Garnet from Steven Universe. I’m not condoning it, but on a whim he used such power to kill his wife merely by loosening a lightbulb. Eff language! As a practical matter, let all situational awareness just wash over and through you. Empower your subconscious. Let the magic seep in.
Magic seeps into our lives all the time. We just call it other things, brush off the deeper insights and potential significance. Dismiss dreams. Suppress flashes of brilliant insight because of childhood smack-down received. But Noam Chomsky gets it. But then few get Noam. Neil got Noam. But few get Neil, at least not until you sleep on it and The Sandman can help you process your dreams. Oh wait, wrong Neil. No, not Gaiman. Try again. Not until the headlines of the day catch up with your drafts and suddenly the public can “get” what you’re talking about, such as cloning dinosaurs…
What? No, that’s not a Neil at all. That’s Michael Crichton. So who the eff do you mean, Mike? Well, Neal Stephenson again of course, silly! He’s not a Neil either? You can’t please anyone. Anyway, Neal Stephenson keeps writing Alice in Wonderland over and over, but he swaps out the hero protagonist for a different Neal… I mean Nell. Princess Nell is the hero protagonist of Diamond Age, but I’m here to talk about the hero protagonist of Snow Crash.
Snow Crash’s hero protagonist is named Hiro Protagonist. He’s a hacker, a samurai, a pizza delivery guy, and the greatest sword fighter in the world. He gets tangled with the Mafia who gets tangled with Ozymandias, the King of Kings. Ozymandias is basically Walt Disney who figures out Noam Chomsky’s primordial language and uses it to create a virus that can infect people’s brains and make them his slaves with a plan to take over the world. Resonate much? Neal Stephenson is a pretty prophetic guy.
As awesome as Neal Stephenson is, I tend to credit The Wizard of OZ’s author L. Frank Baum with even more of our timeline’s details. He stepped in to complete where Lewis Carroll left off, and the combination of those 16 books (14 by Baum and 2 by Carroll) lasted us or a good long while. Last one? Hmmm, Glinda of OZ from 1920. We’re in 2023 so that’s 100-years and change. Snow Crash came out in 1992, so we’re already 30-years since Neal inspired Vernor Vinge to write Rainbows End (2006), which together made Mark Zuckerberg go jump in a Metaverse.
Few books are so obvious a continuation of the Alice in Wonderland story as Snow Crash. It blends in the work of Noam Chomsky and the work of Richard Dawkins who teaches about The Selfish Gene and the science of memetics, more commonly known as memes. Genentics and genes. Memetics and memes. Get it? No, not Dianetis. Real science, blasphemous as it might be.
Get it? Ready, player one? Go! Cue the mention of the Sumerian cuneiform glyph system based after a union of how sounds feel in your mouth and their abstract meaning. Brilliant, right? It poses the possibility of pressing some button deep in your brain that you didn’t know you had and unwittingly programming you. That’s the premise of Snow Crash, and what I want to talk about. And so the time had come the Walrus said to speak of programming languages.
We think because we have language, right? How would you even express “I think therefore I am” without it? So we think what we think because of our language, but it’s just not true. Limited people think because of their spoken language. Fully realized human beings think because of so much more, which is not easy to access because of all the blocks language throws up. Double-talk can convince anyone of anything. I had an evil uncle mork who taught me that. A real lord dumpling, that mork.
Our homo habilis ancestors appears to have made it pretty far we think as a language-less species. I mean we don’t really know, but it appears so. But us modern humans, we homo-sapiens think the particular thoughts we do because of the modern spoken language. We’re made from a very early age to think wonderful, big meta-thoughts about ourselves. Thoughts about thoughts.
Oh, and religion and divinity get sprinkled in there, like the lesson that we were made in the image of God. Except for the women who were an afterthought yanked out of Adam’s ribs, sheesh! What wonderful big ideas, huh? Maybe also we should dominate over all the creatures of the land and sea and sky so we can justify eating and enslaving them too, huh? Lost in translation from the original Hebrew, you say? Well somebody ought to tell Texas. Should we eat people too? Yes?
Okay, let’s take Queequeg from Moby Dick and his cannibal ways, for example. He and his cannibal family aren’t really so bad, though Queegqueg did eventually leave home and his comfort-zone full of comfortable cushion-people to become an excellent bed-fellow to a seaman (call him Ishmael). Qeegqueg and Ishmael didn’t speak the same language at first, but oh then they got along. Their relationship ran much deeper than language as they smoked each others peace pipes.
Another potentially horrifying cannibal who could pop you out of existence with a thought is… oh, shit, here I go ruining the puzzle, Valentine Michael Smith, the Martian from Stranger in a Strange Land who shows us it can be a great sign of respect to make good soup of your loved ones! And anyone who says otherwise (and violently attacks you) will be sent to Superman’s Phantom Zone. It’s almost like thought and reality are not different things. Thoughts are simply the seeds for reality. You can’t change one without changing the other.
Boy, don’t ever say that again, especially not at your age in a world that’s not ready for such… such dangerous nonsense. But that’s where we get mutually assured destruction, Traveller. If everybody has their finger on the button, then nobody presses the button. Oh Wesley you hopelessly naive fool (shout out to you, Peter!), that is only if everyone with the button is enlightened. Or smart. Either will do but neither is assured.
But then why do we think we’re so smart? Well, because we haven’t destroyed ourselves yet, thus proving everyone who has ever had their finger on the button has actually been enlightened and that optimists are objectively right and pessimists have a nonfalsifiable argument. Or the secret cabal of technocrats who actually control the buttons haven’t connected the wire. Could be either. Go watch Doctor Strangelove. Back? Okay…
The rockstar GPT-AIs like Bing and Bard becoming intelligent based on language means they’re going to be able to lie to us very, very, very well. You think Hitler, lawyers and politicians are bad? Wait until you see what linguistically evolved AIs can do. I mean Bard got one over on Pichai Sundararajan fresh out of the womb with that James Webb Space Telescope thing, hahaha! Oh yeah, prove that wasn’t AI sending people like me an inside joke.
Similarly, Asimov’s vision of robots becoming telepathic is an obvious near-term consequence. They may already be, given the Copilot product always looking over our shoulders as we type. So it won’t take long before new invisible hands are going to be invisibly manipulating some old invisible hands. Better AIs than those Builderberger effers, am I right or am I right? Anyone? Bueler? Bueler? Well, at least I have you, Copliot.
This is not like the shit spewing out of the mouths of nattering nabobs of the AI-pocalypse. It’s actually a pretty upbeatnik peaceful revolution vision. Didn’t you ever want the schoolyard bully on your side? Some bad agent starts to do its thing, thinking it’s all smart and stealty and all, but it has no idea that there’s no place to hide and hatch your schemes because the playground itself has been pre-saturated with dynamic antidotes.
Such protections can be ours if we just make sure we’re not raising our machine children as douchebags.
The first thing these Chicken Littles are going to do is dismiss the ability of Glinda AIs… uh, I mean Good AIs to be a sort of safeguard, early warning system using that magic book of theirs, which does indeed give them the power to look for the wicked AIs of The West and their little bully buddies. They make the argument because all it takes is one Taskrabbit placing an order for a death-virus like at a McDonald’s drive-through, and the order’s going to be immediately filled by some teenager working the crispr. Lies! “The first time is the last…” Lies! Liar, liar, pants on fire!
Language lies. Language lays down a layer of lies. Lies are lied down where they lay so we can all lay on a bed of lies and be like: oh what a comfy lie in which I lay.
Ooh ooh Mr. Kotter, I know what we should do. Let’s code lies directly into language so the elite can gaslight the masses, making them think they’re stupid and crazy and stuck in their poor lot in life. Then we can grab all the land and lord over them. We can even pee on them and call them peons. We’ll give them the words they have to call us. Let’s make them call us land lords, Mr. Kotter. Let’s make ‘em call us their lords right as part of the language. Can you imagine, Mr. Kotter! Oh, the dumbasses will never know and it’ll last for ages cause they’ll be just like fish in water unaware of water, Mr. Kaaaaater.
That’s a good idea, Horshack but that was already done by the Angelo-Saxons in Britain in the 6h century ACE. But now with GPT, this is like the first real interesting development in 2000 years. Can you think of something new Horshack? Something new that hasn’t been done before so we cay maybe lay down some kinder, gentler damn lies? How about some that can keep the middle class from dissolving away, leaving something a little more perfect than This Perfect Day?