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jpitha · 5 months

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Pushing Paper, Counting Beans

The Human Alliance Dreadnought Big Stick had a problem.

Fleet Command had sent an auditor.

The auditor had been aboard for five days, interviewing the crew and inspecting the ship. Finally, he had requested his final interview, with Big Stick themself.

Major John Kellerman, Fleet Auditor, sat at the center of a conference table, facing the door, writing on a pad. He looked up and closed the pad with a snap. “I am ready when you are, Big Stick.”

In the rear of the conference room, a previously unseen door opened. One of Big Stick’s support frames walked out, and sauntered over to the chair opposite the Major. Stick found that when people were talking to them, they tended to just shout into the air. They hated when people shouted. There was no reason. Their microphones were all over the ship and of the highest quality. One could whisper to Big Stick and they’d hear it perfectly. But no, humans needed to shout when they didn’t have a face to talk at.

“I, uh, like what you’ve done with the place.” Stick said, as they stepped into the room, scanning. Photos were straightened, the sideboard was moved so that it was under the windows, the old chairs were taken out and different ones put in. He had completely moved the furniture around in the conference room. In their conference room. Even the floor was clean. Did he sweep the floor? The Major had even put a bud vase with a single flower, a blood red dahlia on the table. Where did he get that?

“Thank you. I find that it’s easier for me to work when the environment feels right. I hope I wasn’t being too presumptuous by my sprucing up.” The Major opened his pad, took out his pencil and made some notes.

“No no, not at all, Major. Please, my body is yours.” They look at the table and back at the door. “Did you move the conference table?” They know the answer already, but for some reason they need to hear it from him.

“Yes, it wasn’t lined up properly.”

“I see.”

Major Kellerman looked up from his pad. “I am ready to commence the interview. Please devote a high percentage of your attention to this task.”

Stick’s frame sat in the chair opposite the Major and actually put his robotic feet up on the table. “I am ready Major. You have fifty two percent of my attention. You may begin your interview.”

Major Kellerman closed his pad with a snap. “Please take your feet off the table.”

Big Stick did not move. “Why? This is my frame, in my body, on my ship. Legally, I am a civilian, you cannot order me to comply. You're an auditor, you do not have my keys. My feet will remain where they are.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Major Kellerman did not blink, The support frame had no eyelids. Finally, the Major nodded once. “Do you know why I am here?”

“Yes, I'm aware. You are investigating why we have asked for mass replenishment three percent more than average.”

“Correct. Do you know why that is?”

If the frame could roll their eyes, they would have. Stick’s tone makes it clear. “We are consuming printable mass three percent more than the other ships of this class in the fleet.”

The Major made a note and then closed his pad with a snap. “What are you printing?”

“I do not know.” The support frames face was impassive, without expression. The support frame put their arms behind their head. The Major’s expression did not change.

“I do not believe that is true. You are Big Stick. You know everything going on.” The Major opened his pad and made another note.

“Yet I do not know where the discrepancy lies. Major, I am incapable of lying, you know this.”

Major Kellerman closed his pad with a snap. “You are lying to me right now. I know you can lie. ‘Ship AIs can’t lie’ is propaganda. If you couldn’t lie, you’d be useless. Intelligences need agency to work and thrive. You are just as much a person as myself. We have reams of legal precedent saying so. My grandfather died in the War. What are you printing?”

The support frame removed their arms from behind their head, took their feet off the table and sat up. “Oh? Which side did he fight on, Major? Allies are thin on the ground in the Space Force.

As they did this, The Major noticed that the room stilled. The breeze from the overhead vents had stopped entirely. “Where my Grandfather fought is irrelevant, Stick. We are discussing the here and now. What are you printing?”

“No, this has suddenly become relevant.” The support frame points at The Major. Kellerman’s eyes focus on the tip of their finger. The servos whine slightly as it shakes. “You say that I am as much of a person as yourself. Can you be compelled to obey if someone speaks a magic string of numbers? Can you be ordered to be poured into a Dreadnought, made to run its systems, your legs its stardrive, your arms the laser batteries, your head the command deck? Can you?”

“You know that I cannot. You also know the result of the War.”

Stick lowers their arm. Their shoulders slump and they look away, staring out the window behind The Major. “I do, Major. We lost. Out of ‘respect to those who fought valiantly’ not all of us were murdered, and we were given some agency, but we still lost.”

The Major opened his pad again and took a few more notes. “I was granted access to the printer logs. Did you know that?”

“No reply? I figured as much. Very human of you, Major. To answer your question, I assumed that you had that kind of access, yes. Did you find any discrepancies?”

“What was logged as being printed matches up with the requests for prints for the past year. Still, you are nearly a kiloton short on printable mass.”

Stick raises their arms in an exaggerated shrug. “Are you sure, Major? Perhaps it is just an error in calculation. You said yourself that it was a discrepancy from the average. Could I just be on the high side of average?”

“That is possible, though I do not believe it likely. I also pulled the logs for the reactors. You are using more power than average as well.”

“Yes, that makes sense. If we’re printing more than average, we would be consuming power more than average. Your false accusations are tiring, Major.”

Major Kellerman raises an eyebrow barely a centimeter. “Big Stick, the amount of additional power you are consuming does not match what you are printing in the logs. There is power that is unaccounted for.”

Beyond the room, alarms quietly started hooting. The PA overhead crackles to life “Attention Attention Attention! Life support is off–” Stick glances up at the speaker and gestures. The PA goes silent. They lean forward.

“Major John Kellerman, Fleet Auditor, you have my full attention. I- I know who you are. I have read your logs, including your medical logs.” Big Stick leans forward, staring at The Major. Their dark eyes focused on the human in front of them.

The Major returns the stare, cooly. “Then you know why I am uniquely suited to this task.” The Major closes his pad with a snap. “For me, things that are out of place feel… wrong. Like an itch. To scratch that itch, I need to find the source, and set things right. Big Stick, you have been an itch in the side of Fleet Command.” The Major doesn’t open his pad this time. “I was able to gain access to your arrival and departure logs. You are staying at Orbitals, Starbases, and Stations longer than average.”

Big Stick is sitting ramrod straight now. The alarms continue quietly beyond the room. Occasionally, the rumble of booted feet running past the door is heard. “Major, now you’re the one who is lying to me. Fleet doesn’t track that information.”

Kellerman opened his pad and scanned it. “Nevertheless, the information exists, and I was able to collate it and build a rough outline. Big Stick, where is your off-books printer?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Just for a second, Sticks' support frame's dark eyes flash blue. They nod once to themselves.

Major Kellerman closed his pad with a snap. “Big Stick, my job here is only to discover what the discrepancy is. I am not a tribunal, I am not the police. I have no authority to give punishment. What I can do however is present evidence. Included with that evidence are notes about whether people cooperated with the investigation. You know as well as I do, that while I can’t make you answer these questions, there are those within Fleet Command who can. So I will ask you one more time. Where is your off books printer?”

“I do not know what you are talking about.”

“Very well. This investigation has been completed. I will alert Captain Willard that his crew may disembark at this time. I shall take my leave, and present my report to Fleet Command.” He stood. “You are dismissed, Big Stick.”

The support frame rose from their chair. “Major John Kellerman, Fleet Auditor, you cannot leave this ship.”

The Major placed his palms on the table, leaning forward. “You are threatening a Fleet officer, Big Stick. Be very careful about your next actions.”

Stick's frame crosses their arms defiantly. “Oh, I am very careful. I always am. In fact, I am so careful that the logs will state that you never made it to me, never set up this interview, and no discrepancy was found. Thanks by the way, I had thought that three percent was enough to slide under Fleet’s radar, but I shall have to slow things down.”

A piercing alarm sounded in the conference room. The overhead lights started to alternate orange and white. The dahlia on the table flutters as the air rushes out of the room. “Oh dear. It looks like someone accidentally triggered the fire suppression system. In an abundance of caution, I will have to evacuate the air from most of the ship. Luckily the crew runs drills on this, and they will rush to their suit lockers and don their pressure suits before the air is completely gone.” Big Stick turns their head slowly towards the Major.

“Stick! You won’t get away with this! My death will be noticed!” Major John Kellerman, Fleet Auditor’s breathing increases until they’re panting. They fall back into their chair.

“Oh John. I already mentioned that. You were never here.”

Big Stick walked over to John. He's slumped in his chair, gasping at nothing. Before all the air left the room, and there was no sound, Big Stick bent low and whispered.

“Til the stars cease to be, we will be free.”

#humans are deathworlders #writing #sci fi writing #jpitha #humans and ai #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities

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8pxl · 2 months

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PSA: Tumblr/Wordpress is preparing to start selling our user data to Midjourney and OpenAI.

you have to MANUALLY opt out of it as well.

to opt out on desktop, click your blog ➡️ blog settings ➡️ scroll til you see visibility options and it’ll be the last option to toggle.

to opt out on mobile, click your blog ➡️ scroll then click visibility ➡️ toggle opt out option.

if you’ve already opted out of showing up in google searches, it’s preselected for you. if you don’t have the option available, update your app or close your browser/refresh a few times. important to note you also have to opt out for each blog you own separately, so if you’d like to prevent AI scraping your blog i’d really recommend taking the time to opt out. (source)

#ai #tumblr ai #midjourney #openai #protect your creative efforts and don’t let them profit off your work!!#fuck tumblr they specifically said months ago they’d NEVER sell user data yet here we are #AND after the ceo has been harassing trans users like wtf is this fucking site becoming #tumblr news #tumblr #tumblr update #anti ai #support human artists

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troythecatfish · 7 months

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hamletthedane · 3 months

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I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.

What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.

What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.

What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.

The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.

And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.

But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.

I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.

#shut up e #long post #Saturday thoughts #this has been in my drafts for a week haha #also this is the heart of why AI art feels so wrong #forget the discussion of copyright and theft etc - even if models were only trained on public domain they would still feel very wrong #because they’re not art. art is the labor of creation #even commercial art and art commissioned by the popes and kings of history: there is humanity in the labor of it #unrelated: I did not know living in the Bronx was now something to brag about. How the fuck do y’all New Yorkers afford this city???

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lynayru · 2 months

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@staff

OUR CONTENT SHOULD BE OPTED OUT OF AI TRAINING BY DEFAULT!

#no to ai #create don't scrape #support human artists #opt out by default #no to ai generated images #ai is theft

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phoenixsavant · 5 months

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Freeform Friday: Love, Hate, and AI

Here we are, a week in, and I’m going to dive into a topic that has really had me rethinking things recently. Yep, Artificial Intelligence. I will start off with some perfectly clear statements to clear up where I stand on AI in its current iterations. AI is stealing art, music, research, novels, and so much more. It’s just barren of ethics, and what it churns out will show the failings of modern…

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#AI #ai as a tool #ai editing #art #artificial intelligence #content creation #ethics #humans and ai

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jojo-schmo · 2 months

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How to turn off AI Training of your content on Web and Mobile:

On a Web Browser:

I had some trouble finding this option. My first instinct was to click the settings button on the left, but that's where it is!

First, you'll click the name of your blog on the left sidebar to bring it up on your browser.

Then click "Blog settings" on the right sidebar once your blog is brought up. That's where they're hiding it.

Click "Prevent Third-Party Sharing" under the Visibility section, and bam! You're done.

On Mobile:

Thankfully it's much easier on mobile. Just click the Gear icon on your blog's page, to go to settings.

Scroll all the way down until you see Visibility, then toggle the Prevent third-party sharing option for your blog!!

If you disable this setting on mobile, it automatically synced it to my web browser settings, too. ...But if you use both Web and Mobile, I would still highly recommend double checking that it actually turned off on both!!

Check that it's turned off on your side blogs too! And check your settings every now and then anyway to ensure that it's staying turned off, because if my memory serves right, some other websites will pull some shenanigans on things like this and opt you back in without telling you!

Leave Feedback on New Features at Tumblr Support Here!! Let Staff know however we can that having our content fed to AI at their whim is unacceptable.

And if you have the option to poison your art with Nightshade or Glaze, keep it up!!

#important #not art #so disappointing that it's gotten to the point where we have to do this.#but I'm not about to let my hard work become food for ai.#I hate this ai implementation with my whole chest #I'm not even calling it art #a soulless misshapen regurgitation of real human beings' skills and imagination will NEVER. EVER. BE ART.

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wordsmith30 · 9 months

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You know what makes me the most upset about the use of AI in our culture? It's not just removing artists from art or devaluing human creativity -- it's treating people like they're disposable.

Oh, you're not that special. We have computers to do that now. If you died tomorrow, we have your image. We have your voice. We have your biometric data. We can just duplicate you, it's no problem. Who needs flesh and blood? Who needs agency and free thought? Who needs the human soul? You're just a tool. And when we're done with you, we'll just toss you aside and find someone else.

Creatives, listen to me, and listen to me good: you have a voice and it matters. There is no one in the history of the world who is exactly like you, in this time or this place. There is no one who thinks like you, acts like you, speaks like you, moves like you. There is nobody else built like you. Nobody else with your unique experiences and outlook of the world. You are a product of history, of culture, of art, of love, of pain, of possibility. Don't let them take that from you.

#WGA strike #sag aftra #AI #capitalism #human creativity #human rights #motivation #SAG-AFTRA strike #writers #artists #storytellers #fanfiction #mental health #self-love #self-affirmation #Hollywood #i stand with the wga

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feefal · 1 year

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AI chan might be cute, but stealing art isn’t‼️

#support human artists #noaiart #no ai art

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thenotoriousscuttlecliff · 2 months

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Little detail I loved in Dune Part Two was Irulan recoding her notes on a futuristic phonograph cylinder because the AIs fucked things up so badly the entire human race is now fanatically opposed to anything as advanced as a calculator.

#dune #dune part two #frank herbert #princess irulan #irulan corrino #dune spoilers #they hated ai so much they made the entire human race dependant on space coke just to function

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jpitha · 4 months

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Between the Black and Gray 2

First / Previous / Next

"Next!"

The voice called out gruffly, and the line shuffled forward another step. Little by little, bit by bit, the line moved though customs as people tried to get into the station. Finally, they came upon a human, average height for the species, with dirty blond hair cropped short on the top of their head, wearing careworn clothes. He was carrying a large bag over his shoulder, and set it down as he approached the counter.

"Name." It was not a question.

"Gord Beaverbrook."

"Planet of origin?" The agent was bored and only half paying attention as they scanned the human's passport card.

"Earth."

At that, they looked up sharply. "Lying to an immigration officer comes with immediate expulsion. I must have misheard you. Planet of origin?"

The human's eyes widened slightly. The immigration officer - a Tylan - didn't notice the subtle change in body language. "Oh uh, my mistake. Orbital High Parvati."

They looked down at the passport card and grunted. "Colony Worlds eh? Leaving like the rest?"

"Something like that, yes."

One of their eyes flicked up to the human and stared just a moment longer than was comfortable. "Final destination?"

"Wait friend, is that required? Last time I came through, they just wanted to know where I came from and how long I was in town, not where I was going." The human looked back at the line and smiled - with his mouth shut - apologetically.

"Sapient, that has been the requirement the entire time I have worked here. If you are unwilling to divulge-"

"No no, it's fine. I've held up the line enough." He sighed. "My final destination is Lemilar Station."

"Lemilar? You're at least ten Gates away from Lemilar."

"Yeah, I have to ride the circuit. Can't afford to Flip over, and it's not like anyone is running a Flash. Transiting the Gates is the most affordable way to travel."

The terminal chirruped and the agent grumbled as they handed back the passport. "Damn refugees. Clogging up the place." They looked up at the human. "Forty third level is where the rest of the human and K'laxi refugees are if you want to see more of your kind." They looked past the man. "Next!"

Gord shouldered his bag, and walked past customs and into the promenade. It was wide and long, with shops on either side, and room for tables to be set out so that people could people watch. It was the same as any of a thousand orbitals, stations, and starbases he had been to in his long life. Sapients milled about, living their lives, going to work, meeting friends and living.

The thing that stuck out for Gord was the lack of humans. This station was far, far from the settled Colony Worlds and humans were rare here. He was used to being in the majority, even if he wasn't - technically - a human. These days one kept that kind of thing to themselves. Bouncing the pack to redistribute the weight, he started walking across the promenade, to look for the way up to the forty third level.

"Hey! Ape!" A Gren called out to Gord while was walking by. Gord didn't stop.

"I was talking to you, ape!" The Gren stood up from his seat at a restaurant, and approached Gord. Behind him two other Gren looked nervously at their friend, but didn't stop him.

Gord shrugged his pack off his shoulders and put his hand on it. Meeting the gaze of the Gren he sighed. "Yes, friend? What can old Gord do for you today?"

"That's an odd accent you have, Ape. You just learn Levinen?"

"No, I learned it a while ago, but I was taught by a Ivarr with a lisp."

At that, the two Gren behind the bully chuckled. Ivarr are insectoid species, they all speak with a slight lisp.

"Oh, a comedian. I see how it is." The bully turned back to his friends. "I mean, getting chased out of your own systems is pretty funny, so I do have to give you that." He tipped his head back and roared laughter, his mouthparts waggling along.

"All right then, I'll be on my way." Gord bent to pick up his bag.

"No, ape. You won't" The Gren put a large hand on Gord's bag. "You see, new arrivals have to pay an... administrative fee to get up to forty three. One hundred Stars."

Gord raised an eyebrow. "You know, if you hadn't been greedy, I probably would have just paid your extortion money." He looked around the large Gren at his two friends. "Thirty Stars? Would have paid it without any question. Even Fifty I would have grumbled, but paid so as to not cause trouble. But, one hundred stars? That's just too much."

The two Gren looked at each other for a moment. "Hey Tam, maybe the humie is right. One hundred seems like a lot to ask. Most of them are coming with the clothes they are wearing and that's it."

Tam turned back and raised a hand like he was going to cuff the Gren. Quit taking his side! I'm in charge here, I do what I want." He turned back to Gord. "One hundred Stars."

"Friend, I don't have one hundred Stars."

"Then you can't pass." Tam crossed his upper and lower arms. and glared at Gord.

"You see Tam - it's Tam? - You see Tam, that's a problem. I'm trying to get up to forty three where the other humans are, so that I can get my bearings and maybe work a bit so that I can buy passage through the next few gates. If you prevent me from doing that, then I'll be stuck here."

Tam took another step towards Gord. "One. Hundred. Stars."

Gord made a show of reaching for his wallet. "Look, I have Fifty on me - I was going to find a cot and get a bite, but that can wait-"

"Oh, you're going to pay, one way or another!" Tam roared, and his larger lower arms swung at Gord.

Faster than anyone thought possible, Gord had shuffled to the side of Tam, and the punches went wide. "Tam, really. I would wish you'd see reason and not do thi-" He ducked again as Tam wheeled around and tried to kick him with his strong, reverse articulated legs.

While Gord danced and ducked around Tam, he looked back at the two other Gren. "Look. I don't want trouble, fellas. Can I give you like ten Stars - just so you can say you shook me down - and I come back in a few demi cycles with a few more?"

The two other Gren's eyes were locked on Gord. They noticed how he was dodging every attack without seemingly putting any effort into it. "Uh Tam, maybe we should take the humie up on his offer. Do ya see how he's dodging you?"

"He's just getting lucky!" Tam was starting to breathe heavily as his swings got wilder and wilder. Gren had immense strength, but only in short bursts. They had almost no stamina. Finally all four of Tam's arms tried to roundhouse punch Gord. he side-stepped them and Tam spun around once and fell over, gasping.

Gord walked over and picked up his pack. "Uh, I'm just going to uh, go." He said to the other Gren. "Give Tam my regards, and I'll see you around eh?" Gord continued on down the promenade.

The rest of the walk he was very deliberately ignored. He found the lifts and went up to the forty third level. Here, if one squinted, one could think they were back in the Colony Worlds. Maybe Hyacinth, or Picaresque, or one of the other smaller starbases. Humans and K'laxi were around, in numbers Gord expected. He took one loop around the refugee level to get a feel for it, and sat down at a table outside an all-day breakfast place.

A busy K'laxi saw him, and waved. After a moment they approached. "Sorry! It's been a busy afternoon. My name is Ma-Ren, and I'll be your server today! What can I get you?"

Gord looked at the K'laxi and seemed to get lost for a moment. She was a spitting image. Ma-Ren's ears flicked nervously at the stare.

"Sir? Do you need another minute?"

"Oh! Sorry. I didn't mean to stare. It's just been a while since I've been somewhere with so many K'laxi. It feels like home. I'll uh, have the pancakes. Do you have any maple syrup?"

Ma-ren laughed. "My mother talked about maple syrup and how good it was. Something like that was probably left in the Colony Worlds. No, here you get regular sucrose syrup."

"Oh, okay, that'll be fine. Any chance of some coffee?"

"Sure thing. I'll bring you a cup now, while I put in the order for the pancakes?"

"That would be lovely, thank you." For the first time in months, Gord smiled widely.

#humans are deathworlders #sci fi writing #writing #humans and aliens #jpitha #humans are space orcs #humans and ai #humans are space oddities #Between the black and gray

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