TLDR: The Coming Age of Aliteracy

For many years, a good deal of digital ink has been spilled about the end of reading. Lately, however, I found compelling the statistics in Rose Horowitch's "The End of Reading is Here," at The Atlantic. I wish it were not behind a paywall. We all need to read it, even if we cannot focus long enough to finish it.

What I began noticing, incrementally, after the turn of the century is coming true: students (and adults) cannot abide focusing long enough to read anything. In 2001, I taught nine challenging texts in the university's Core class. In Spring of 2025, my most recent literature course, I taught four novel-length works. That was challenging enough, and still I caught students using AI to summarize a short story they couldn't finish, and getting an F for introducing AI hallucination into work submitted for a grade.

But the problem is hardly confined to young people, some of whom will claim that audio books serve as an adequate replacement. As Horowitch's sources note, those do not engage our brains neurologically in the same manner as printed books. Societally, we are losing the ability to retain facts in our heads, unpack difficult syntax, find connections between ideas when we farm those tasks out to machines.

So each year since the iPhone hit the scene in 2007, I've grown more and more certain that Sven Birkert's predictions in The Gutenberg Elegies have come true.

I've peers in their 60s who stopped reading. When they try now, they cannot finish the book. The addictive allure of screens is too great (an irony as I write this on a screen). A few of us who read (or write for) Hemmings Motor News have noted how the stories at the Web site grow shorter and shorter. When a long piece appears, such as the ones I write for them, at least one commenter will thank the author and editors for daring to take a "deep dive" into a topic.

How will this end? I probably will live to see a post-literate society as the norm, a world where serious reading of difficult material becomes a niche skill. Bookstores now doing well may need to stock shorter work to bring in new readers. College English Departments, as well as any teaching from books have not been in great shape for a while. They will morph or go out of business. 

All my life, I have had an eerie feeling of getting through a doorway to have it slam shut behind me. Now I feel the breeze on the back of my neck as Gutenberg's era ends. I fear a Dark Age; don't forget that in late-Roman times, students began reading synopses of classic Greek works instead of tackling the original. Then and now, long, challenging work provides depth that no synopsis or web site can. 

We have so much darkness in our own nation already from being led by an unread, unteachable man. What will come next?

And while YA lit and graphic novels, still thankfully popular, can convey great truths, what happens when they no longer serve as a stepping stone to Edith Wharton, Kazuo Ishiguro, or Toni Morrison? There's a straight line from the bombastic Marvel Comics of my pre-teens to the terrifying state advocated by Socrates in Plato's Republic, which I'm finally reading now in a lovely edition. Socrates, who mistrusted writing, would not have approved. I should have memorized the dialogue!

I plan to treasure the book and its lessons, even if no one I know can discuss it with me. So I went to ChatGPT. I have not touched an AI model since Fall 2025, when I last taught my adult-ed class "Writing With and About AI."

Me: Hello after a while. I've a specific question. Do you think that Socrates really hoped that the Greeks of his time would build a society like that in Plato's Republic? Keep your reply under 200 words. 

Chat: Good to see you again.

Probably not—at least not in a straightforward political sense. Socrates, as Plato presents him, insists that the Republic is an inquiry into justice in the soul as much as in the city. The ideal polis functions as a magnified image of the just individual.

That said, Socrates does not dismiss political reform. He famously says that cities will have no respite until philosophers rule or rulers genuinely become philosophers. This sounds like a genuine, if remote, aspiration. Yet the proposal is framed as so demanding that many readers think Plato intended it as a regulative ideal rather than a practical blueprint for fourth-century Greece.

My view is that Socrates hoped less for Athens to become the Republic than for his interlocutors to rethink what political excellence requires. The ideal city exposes the defects of existing regimes and educates philosophical judgment. Whether anyone could actually found such a city is almost beside the point.

We get here an answer that sounds less canned than those of models a year ago. I like that "my view" moment, too. There's a hook at the end, too. We could (and I may) go on about why making an ideal city-state is "beside the point."

AIs may hallucinate, but at least they did have the Plato fed to them. They'd out-debate any of my students in a Socratic dialogue.

Image Source: Gutenberg Bible, Wikipedia 

 

A Good Counterpoint for Orbital Data Centers

I got an F in Thermodynamics, shortly before I flunked out of UVA's Aerospace Engineering program.

So I leave matters such as cooling satellites to experts, and recently I came across a concern about data centers in space: can they scale to the size we need for AI? Forget issues of space debris and power. The Reverse Salient, in Hughes terms, appears to be cooling.  

The article here discusses, in somewhat technical terms that should still be understood by the non-engineer, the reasons that what engineers call "radiational cooling" in space may not work for the amount of heat generated by orbital data centers. Perverse thought, no? Space is either hideously hot in the sun or deadly cold in the shade. But the problem involves moving heat away from the object in question. There's no breeze in vacuum; any water would boil off or freeze solid. Read the article for more technical details.

This year we will find out if orbital data centers can scale. I hope so. We simply do not have the energy resources or land for the types of AI economy the billionaires envision. The Carbon pollution alone might seal our fate.

NVIDIA, many other US firms, and the Chinese space program, are testing the concept now or will be this year. I wish them luck. We need to get this right.

I'm increasingly of the belief that we'd be better off had AI not been invented, a thought I also have about smart phones and social media, but like those technologies AI is not going to be wished away. 

Image source: Daily Galaxy, Creative Commons image 

Another CCCC, Another Rejection of AI

At face value, the latest rejection of AI in writing classrooms from the Conference on College Composition and Communication does not sound like a radical document. It calmly frames the issue in terms of students' and faculty members' rights to choose how to teach and learn. 

It's also out of touch with how so many universities are being run. Once again, as I did last year, I will issue a brief rebuttal. One of the issues below could be easily addressed. The other? Not so handily.

• Realities of how classes get scheduled and listed
  
  If students have the right to opt out of AI in any course they take, it would create chaos for instructors. Those like me who scaffold AI into assignments do so in ways not possible without these applications. Students would not know until they saw a syllabus how (or if) AI would be employed in a class.
  
  The resolution claims that "Professors should additionally respect a student’s choice to refuse AI. To do this, it would be ideal that they have assignments that students can choose from that do not involve generative AI and that do not isolate the students from class discussions and activities."
  
  My podcasting assignment requires the use of ElevenLabs software. Would I then give students who refuse a second option? My classes are small. I could do that. But what happens in large courses that enroll many dozens of students?
  
  One work-around would be for registrars to flag courses that use AI. Then students could exercise their rights to chose accordingly.
  
  
• The reality of who teaches writing and who makes the decisions
  
  The document rightly notes that "Generative AI is but the latest version of this neoliberal approach to efficiency and expediency," but then it does not give instructors advice about how to counter this trend with senior administration that follows neoliberal principles. The authors rightly note as well that we work in "a profession that has long dealt with labor issues and that continues to rely considerably on frequently underpaid contingent, adjunct, and graduate student labor."
  
  So how, exactly, would such at-will employees say "no" when a university requires AI literacy in its curriculum? Here I'll speak bluntly: the tenured faculty on the committee that drafted this resolution should have known better. That sort of Ivory-Tower elitism in 2025 led me to leave the CCCC.
  
  NCTE leadership understands well the contingent nature of writing instruction and the realities of who now has the power of the purse at our institutions. 
  
  Perhaps these same authors can fight for better governance at colleges and universities, so the voiceless and underpaid have more of a role in shaping policy? Perhaps more tenured faculty could teach more writing-intensive classes? Such teachers do have more power to refuse AI and shape policy around its adoption on campus.
  
  It seems my old profession (well, I still pursue it part-time) is lost in the fog, as industry lays plans for orbital constellations of data-centers and AI apps pop up on our phones without our asking. This will not end well for CCCC, which doesn't bother me. But it does bother me that many teachers of writing may be hurt in the process.

Update, July 2026: I have rejoined the NCTE as a retiree, and I now receive their journal aimed at K-12 language-arts teachers. I changed course partly because NCTE distanced itself from the radical stance of the CCCC by issuing a pragmatic framework for educators who may not be able to say no to AI initiatives. 

Image: Creative-Commons "The campanile at UC Berkeley shrouded in fog." by Daniel Parks at Flickr

A Conversation By Economists About AI

I had the pleasure of attending a "Sharp Viewpoints" event on my old employer's campus, where Dr. Kevin Hallock, university President, hosted two economists with expertise in AI, UVA's Anton Korinek and MIT's David Autor.  The subject, AI and The Future of Work, should concern us all.

I hope not to misrepresent what I heard, but all three experts on stage consider it inevitable that AI will continue to advance rapidly and that it will disrupt careers in fields such as Finance, Computer Science, and Accounting. These have been popular majors for my former students. The scope of the disruption and what happens to wages, as AI takes on more white-collar tasks, remain to be seen. Korinek cited a ninefold increase in the capacity of AI systems annually, from a 2.5x increase in efficiency times a 4x increase in capabilities. 

Korinek warned the audience that we have a small window of time to prepare for resultant changes without chaos in the economy, though Autor felt that if we were to see a gradual loss of a profession, which he called "generational," our economic health could be sustained. He did warn that nothing on the scope of 10% of jobs lost annually could be tolerated without an upheaval. 

Both speakers likened gradual change to, say, automating trucking. The industry would slowly shed human drivers over time, because prior investment in vehicles and warehouses can't be profitably junked overnight. As older drivers retire, however, gradually fewer young people would enter the field and robots would take on the work of moving cargo on the highways. 

As for me? Whoever or whatever does the driving, I still prefer trains for 90% of the hauling, with a truck doing the final leg of the journey. 

The mood was cautiously optimistic, but I'm no optimist. My dad loved being a long-haul trucker. He was not as happy when he ran a wholesale produce company, though that enabled him to put away some money for when he retired. He preferred "the Road" to the security of a desk, and he passed that love of highway travel on to me.  Driving have him a purpose. Yet dad, in retirement, did not begin to write poetry, learn Greek, or play golf. He watched TV and was bored while living on his social security and investment income.

Something the speakers did not address to my satisfaction: if we do have a future without nearly as many jobs for humans, what do many people without side interests or hobbies or talents do with their time? I'm not a good model: I've stayed more busy than ever since leaving full-time employment.

I ask my question, a Humanist's response, assuming that some sort of basic universal income would arise; Author prefers not a monthly dole but a universal basic investment fund for every citizen, beginning at birth. 

Without it, I suspect we'd have some sort of Butlerian Jihad of the mass unemployed, to smash the data centers, and frankly, I'd support smashing them if the alternative meant vast numbers of destitute folks existing alongside a tiny elite empowered by AI. Our speakers did note how this sort of future could emerge, endangering democracy. I'd argue it already is emerging under the broligarchs of Silicon Valley and our current Administration.

Yet with income for all in a jobs-free future, we might have a lot of folks on a dole, not hiking or painting but watching TV and not contributing to our civilization. In my darkest hours, I also think we already have that, without a dole in the US. 

It's better to have a purpose. I didn't hear much discussion of "what does it mean to be a human?" in last night's one-hour chat. Of course, that sort of discussion has been going on among philosophers for millennia, even before Socrates began to question people at Athens' Agora. 

Both Korinek and Autor did fear a rise in inequality, as wages might fall while AI-copiloted productivity rises. That said, everyone agreed that we will have new jobs emerge, some of them related perhaps to newly found leisure time. Autor reminded us that 100 years ago, 38% of Americans worked in agriculture. Today under 2% do. But a person in 1926 also could not image the types of careers many of us now have. Nor did they have our concept of leisure time. A video-game developer's career would have been as alien as a Man from Mars.

Fair point, but when (according to them, not if) AI and humanoid robots replace most human labor, including game design, what will most of us do to find a purpose?

What will colleges do? Korineck, bless him, as well as Hallock, upheld the value of the Liberal Arts for coming to grips with essential and enduring questions. Autor, while nodding to the value of liberal education, said he'd be more "crass" to note that a college degree also means more income and professional training. I don't disagree with him, yet marrying some careerist coursework to a passion for something seems wiser than choosing a "safe" major in a field that bores you.

The even left me unsettled. If the future they predict comes, I'd begin by having students read Plato's Republic and The Federalist Papers with me, for two explanations of what a society can do to organize itself against chaos.

If you want to see a video of the talk, UR recorded it. Thanks to Fred Hagemeister at Richmond for sharing the link.

Reason 11 For Not Building Data Centers Now

A few stories recently caught my eye about moving data centers away from where we live, far away, in fact.

 China's government plans to test space-based data centers starting in 2026, with a rollout of ones with costs as low or lower than earth-based centers slated for the 2030s. Meanwhile in the States, Amazon's Jeff Bezo has hatched similar plans. Not to be left behind by his billionaire rival, Elon Musk wants to use his Starship mega-rockets to orbit data centers. Then there's Google Starcloud, with a test planned for 2027. That system would also depend upon something like Starship to make the venture cheap enough to construct.

At first blush, it seems like a crazy idea, but as I considered the benefits versus costs, it makes sense to move this industry skyward:

• With reusable rocket boosters, costs to orbit per kilogram have dropped radically in recent years. If Starship prospers and others copy its model, we'll see the door opened for very cheap rocket launches.
• We have abundant solar energy in orbit. There's no need for generators, nuclear reactors, or natural gas.
• We also have easy cooling, without using water. Rotate a satellite and you have a solar heating on one side, the utter cold of space on the other.
•  Space-based data centers need not be huge to do their job. They could be a constellation of large satellites that talk to each other, as Starlink does already. Right now, however, big centers seem to be the model for space-based construction.
• If we do go big, we know how to do this already thanks to the International Space Station. 
• Parts of orbital centers can be replaced with one launch, and the old centers can be upgraded by robots or small enough to burn up on a deorbit. 
• Beaming data to ground stations 200 miles away on Earth is not a problem. We already do this.

My hope is that this technology will mature fast, to avoid more environmental and social disruption on Earth. And closest to home, I hope my County's Board of Supervisors pays attention, before we end up with a huge and obsolete building placed on agricultural land next to residences.

One issue that does bother me, beyond the possible climate-change effects of launching so many rockets?

It's called The Kessler Effect (or Syndrome). Readers may have seen the film Gravity, which one explosion in space results in a cascading set of collisions and, consequently, a massive cloud of space debris hurtling around 10 miles per second, chasing an underwear-clad Sandra Bullock.  

How serious is a collision in space? I once saw a piece of Space Shuttle Challenger's front windows, removed from a mission before the craft's 1986 catastrophe. The section of thick glass was damaged badly by hitting a tiny fleck of paint tossed off some forgotten rocket-booster, perhaps decades earlier. Now imagine millions of these objects, large and small, forming a cloud around the Earth, making any rocket launches an exercise in futility, destroying telecom networks, and grounding human space travel for many decades. Or centuries.

A center as large as Starcloud makes for a huge target, were the Kessler Effect to begin. 

Belatedly, firms and governments are considering ways to mitigate space debris and harden orbital infrastructure. Let's hope they get is right, as they'll only have one opportunity. I'd like to get my data from the heavens, not from Earth with more carbon pollution and wasted groundwater.

image: Starcloud center from Google video 

A Strangely Easy Idea No Writing Teacher Has Discussed

I may be out of the loop here, but I've come up with a simple idea that may be grant-worthy. Yes, steal it. Beat me to the grant. The consequences for students' learning may be too great for me to worry about being the first to put my name on it.

What I propose is simple: a writing environment online with the ease of Google Docs, but with one enormous feature disabled: copy/paste. In that regard, it would resemble the Respondus Lockdown Browser. 

The difference? Faculty would organize their classes and assignments there, as with a learning-management system, but they would pick certain AI tools that could employed at each stage of the writing process. The tools would work only from within the writing environment, and the final stages of each step--from rough-draft to revision to later drafts--would be sent from within the browser to the faculty member, along with how each writer used any AI tools permitted.

In that regard, my writing environment looks something like an educational version of Grammarly that an executive once demoed for me. In that product, all work copied and pasted into to interface would be watermarked and AI tools could be disabled or enabled by the user. I'd put that power in the hands of the course instructor, where it belongs. As students tell me again and again, using AI is simply the norm now, and we faculty are wasting time focusing on detecting plagiarism with AI detectors I don't trust. Time and again, studies I've read indicate that they turn up too many false positives. 

My idea requires some coders adept at building a good client and we'd have to negotiate licensing for AI programs such as Research Rabbit, an LLM, a image / slide-deck generator, and multimedia tools such as ElevenLabs' podcast and text-to-voice generators.

By placing the tools within the writing environment and forbidding copy/paste from outside, drafting by cognitive offloading would no long be an issue. 

I'm currently talking to a few colleagues who run our AI cluster on campus. I hope to have something sketched out, and if we can find the coders and money, tested in 2026.

Creative-Commons Image courtesy of oercommons.org 

Ten Arguments Against Hyper Data Centers

 

We lost the vote in Goochland County; 4 of 5 Supervisors voted to approve a Technology Overlay District (TOD) and Technology Zone that could include data centers. We learned that a likely center would be two million square feet, or 3000' x 200' in size. That's three times the length of USS Nimitz supercarrier or twice the square footprint of the Short Pump Town Center, a huge outdoor mall about 20 minutes from where I live. I've always hated Short Pump and that mall in particular; it was once prime farmland where a friend stabled her horse. It's now a suburban asteroid belt.

The proposed data center is worse. And soon it may be utterly obsolete. I commend to you articles by Bryan Alexander and Noah Smith about why this entire industry could soon find itself in deep trouble and why that matters to the larger economy. 

Other localities will be fighting data-center behemoths that use enormous amounts of energy and water. Their parking lots create heat-islands and they lower property values. It's likely we citizens will be taking the county to court, as plans were modified at the final moment to include 900 additional acres without public discussion. The entire process seemed rushed through, perhaps spurred on by money from industry, before a new Governor in January. She has promised to develop a statewide strategy. I hope so, and perhaps it can preempt the sort of hasty decisions made here. My state has more data centers than any other.

So what are arguments that money-hungry county officials will heed? Quality-of-life issues may help, but I think environmental concerns, sadly as usual, fall on deaf ears. Our nation's brand of capitalism, one I despise, values short-term thinking and profiteering. I'm a Distributist, not a Socialist; I want capital held and decisions made by the largest number of citizens possible. I want data centers small and as rare as possible. 

In any case, here are 10 technical and economic arguments to make with your local officials as you organize against this bonanza. They are based on my remarks at our recent county meeting. You can share these in 3 minutes at a meeting, if you practice! 

1.  AI drives this rapid growth in data centers. 
2. The AI industry is not turning a profit and has shown only limited ROI for hundreds of billions in venture capital and now, risky loans. Subscriptions make up a tiny portion of revenue.
3. The current model of AI relies on “brute force” computing to simulate human reasoning. This method requires huge data centers that drive up electric bills for ratepayers, and it uses lots of ground water. The Microprocessors in data centers need to be replaced every few years, meaning short life-spans for their hardware. 
4. Real “Artificial General Intelligence” (aka AGI or “Superintelligence”) is unlikely with silicon-based semiconductor technology, yet AGI is the stated goal of OpenAI, Anthropic, Meta, and Google.
5. Without more powerful new models, investment may well leave this sector, as 80% of firms that have already deployed current AI models have shown no gains in productivity. 
6. While Meta and Google have varied sources of income, other big AI firms are one-trick ponies. If the gold-rush turns into a bubble that bursts, it will harm the entire economy. What would happen in your locality when a data center goes dark, its owner bankrupt?
7. NVIDIA just announced a new Spark workstation that brings hardware-based AI to developers’ desktops. Coders no longer need to send work to data centers for processing. 
8. Soon consumer devices will have this capacity.  When we have AI-on-a-laptop or phone, which is Apple’s goal for Apple Intelligence, the data-center boom will likely go bust. 
9. Does your locality want to build power-hungry, thirsty data centers that may be obsolete in a few years? 
10. Quality-of-life issues are a form of return on investment. Start with that, not data centers.

Image source: first try with ChatGPT 5 for prompt "Generate an image of a two million square foot hyper data center in ruins." 

Are Humanists All Like This? Tyler Austin Harper's Strange Ideas About AI on Campus

 I'm fond of The Atlantic; I've subscribed for more than 4 decades. I also enjoy Tyler Austin Harper's articles; his 2024 piece on extreme fishing really moved me with its stories of combat veterans risking their lives at night, swimming out in deep water to find offshore rocks, all to catch striped bass. Austin tried that sport himself; his participation added vividness to his journalism.

As a professor, he is likewise a participant when writing about education. Thus he should know enough about students to avoid the impracticable, even ludicrous, ideas in his newest article, "The Question All Colleges Should Ask Themselves About AI." The title drew me right in, as I too am concerned that institutions of higher education do not comprehend the scope of AI usage by students or what that may portend for their learning. 

So much damage has already been done, before LLMs arrived to thwart the critical-thinking skills we faculty hold so dear. We live in a time when phones and social media have sapped the attention spans and reading comprehension of all ages, and when students from taught-to-the-test K-12 US education lack the ability to construct narratives around the content they do encounter in class. Instead, they often ask me for a rubric and or checklist. When I ask "tell me what you think most interests you from our topic," I usually get blank or anxious looks.

Harper's piece begins in this territory, with worries we share. Soon, however, he turns to a "solution" by Megan Fritts, from U Arkansas at Little Rock, calling for a ban on AI use in the Humanities classroom.

That stance seems not too different from the CCCC Chair's address I rebutted here some time back. I canceled my NCTE membership this year in response to that extremist stance by the organization's leadership.

Yet the similar philosophy that Fritts embraces proves not radical enough for Harper:

Shunning AI use in classrooms is a good start, but schools need to think bigger than that. All institutions of higher education in the United States should be animated by the same basic question: What are the most effective things—even if they sound extreme—that we can do to limit, and ideally abolish, the unauthorized use of AI on campus?

Harper's drive to "abolish" includes: 

• Getting rid of WiFi, laptops, and phones on campus
• Making all writing assignments be done in labs without Internet access 
• Making all students live on campus
• Ending accommodations for neurodiverse students if they include AI (human helpers would fill the gap, as they did before) 
• Penalizing heavily any students caught using AI for academic work, including expulsion.

I began to check to see if he were writing for The Onion, ending with a call for wax tablets for all written work. I can imagine such a  policy at my employer, leading to a 95% drop in applications. I can also imagine new AI-friendly schools, many for-profit, rushing to fill the gap.  I can envision ADA-based lawsuits by neurodiverse learners and their parents.

I won't go on more except to say that Harper's draconian and neo-Luddite solution is not a realistic answer.

Instead I'll end with a question that Fritts asks near the start of her article, as she and others on an AI Committee wrestle with the signature pedagogical challenge of our time, "If this robot can write these books better than we can, then what are we doing here?" Well asked. 

Unless we faculty can add value to AI-written content, maybe we don't deserve jobs any more. I've wondered that since the "Theory Wars" in English and related fields of the late 80s and early 1990s. Poorly aping French Post-Structuralist Theory, faculty in PhD programs ruined the lives of many a graduate student and likely turned off legions of potential undergrads who might have studied literature. I saw this in dozens of cases at Indiana University's PhD program. 

At that time, we lost the thread of meaning--and damn the Deconstructionists who managed to deconstruct meaning out of our field. But the meaning destroyed was not only in texts that lacked narrative cohesion under the scrutiny of theory; the meaning lost included the joy (or jouissance, if you read Barthes) of studying literary work and finding connections to improve one's own life.

Fritts takes us back before my field's epistemological disaster, when she notes that "the aim of our disciplines is the formation of human persons." If we start there, enshrining that principle as the most important one that a college or university (in any discipline) can answer, we have made a good start.  

Image: OpenArt, Cambridge University in Ruins 

ChatGPT 5 Passes "The Big Log Test"

You may recall that some time back, I had a hilarious exchange with an earlier version of ChatGPT about Robert Plant's song "Big Log." Now that version 5 appeared, I wanted to see if the AI would still insist that the song had anything to do with logs made of wood.

No rolling logs this time. The AI did some speculating, but not hallucinating. 

I find the exercise playful, something lacking in anti-AI resistance from one important organization in my field. At the same time, The Big Log Test shows how quickly the AI has reduced its hallucinations. I'd invite readers to try something similar with a favorite song/book/film/TV series that may have an aspect that could confuse an AI. Here we go: 

Prompt: This is a routine check I do as your model improves. I'm curious about any meanings in Robert Plant's song "Big Log." Why do you think he chose that title for his song? Do you see any clues in the lyrics? 

Reply:

Good check-in question — "Big Log" is one of Robert Plant’s more mysterious titles. The lyrics themselves are impressionistic, dreamlike, and full of wandering imagery: travel, desire, distance, loneliness, fate. The phrase “Big Log”*never appears in the song, so the title works more like an oblique symbol or signpost. A few possibilities that critics and listeners have suggested:

1. Truckers and Highways – In trucking slang, a “log” is a driver’s logbook, and a “big log” could mean a long haul or a long road. Since the song is steeped in imagery of roads, headlights, and endless travel, the title could gesture toward the journey itself.

2. Nature and Obstacle – A literal “big log” might be something blocking a path, a metaphor for distance, fate, or emotional barriers. The lyrics’ recurring sense of inevitability (“My love is in league with the freeway…”) could fit this interpretation.

3. Wordplay and Surrealism – Plant often uses surreal or playful titles (e.g., “In the Mood,” “Heaven Knows”). “Big Log” may simply be an evocative, earthy phrase chosen to contrast with the ethereal quality of the lyrics and music.

4. Personal/Private Reference – Sometimes Plant titles songs with private jokes, fragments of conversation, or studio nicknames. It’s possible “Big Log” had an offhand origin unrelated to the lyrics, and he leaned into its strangeness.

Clues in the lyrics point strongest to the *travel/journey* theme: headlights, the freeway, endless searching, being pulled by forces outside oneself. “Big Log” might stand in as the symbolic “record” of that journey — the unending trace of desire and distance.

Follow-Up Prompt: So there are no references to logs in the song?

Reply:

That’s right — there are no actual references to logs (trees, wood, or otherwise) in the lyrics of “Big Log.”

The imagery in the song is all about roads, headlights, distance, fate, longing — not forests or lumber. That’s part of what makes the title puzzling: it seems deliberately disconnected from the lyric surface.

If anything, the best textual “bridge” is the idea of a logbook (the record of a journey), which fits the recurring highway and travel motifs. But Plant never makes that link explicit in the words of the song.

Would you like me to give you a quick “lyrics-only” close reading to show how the imagery develops (and where a title like Big Log might feel thematically tethered, even if indirectly)?

Follow-Up Prompt:

You have clearly evolved. Earlier chats references rolling logs, fallen logs, and so forth. Good work.

Reply:

I’m glad you noticed that difference! Earlier, I sometimes filled the “gap” in the title by speculating more literally — things like fallen trees or rolling logs. With another pass at the song, though, it’s clear Plant never brings that imagery in, so it’s more faithful to stick with the journey / logbook / metaphorical record angle.

Plant’s titles often have that teasing quality — they look literal but carry some private or surreal weight (a kind of wink at the listener). “Big Log” works almost like a signpost planted alongside the road of the song, rather than a description of what’s in it.

 

 

From Antiquity, a Reason Why AI-Generated Writing is not "Great"

Every year, I read at least one text (in translation) from Antiquity. I find that the long-term perspective gets me through the bumps in life's road. I'm currently reading On Great Writing (or if you will, On the Sublime) by Longinus, in a Hackett Classics edition I picked up at an academic conference's book room.

G.M.A Grube makes the work come to life; we know so little about Longinus (the author lived between the 1st Century BCE and the 3rd CE, that the text passes my "castaway reader" test. Here we go: a work washes up intact on your desert island. Yay, something to pass the time! Yet you have no information on the author, and no secondary sources. You must use the actual words on the page to come to a conclusion about the work's meaning.

Longinus talks about many aspects of what constitute "the Sublime" in excellent writing,  but one passage late in the text commends itself to my current students in "Writing With and About AI." I've said since 2022 that AI prose is "voiceless," and Longinus gives reasons why some prose most moves us:

Which is to be preferred in poetry and prose, great writing with occasional flaws or moderate talent which is entirely sound and faultless?. . . . It is perhaps also inevitable that inferior and average talent remains for the most part safe and faultless because it avoids risk and does not aim at the heights, while great qualities are always precarious because of their very greatness.

Bad student writing is slap-dash, one-draft work that has no coherence. No wonder bored or harried students turn to AI! At the same time, why not simply give all such technically correct, but average work what it should earn: a C? AI produces good, boring, safe prose. Many students who pair moderate talent with immoderate anxiety already do that. I never give them an A. For years I've said "this piece takes no intellectual risks. You are writing to please me, not learn something new."

In Nancy Sommers' excellent short films from the 1990s about writers at Harvard, I recall how one fourth-year student said that he learned to begin with what he did not know, starting with a question. This remark changed how I taught writing. I'm going to press my current adult students to do the same: begin with what you DON'T know. As Longinus warns us, "A world-wide sterility of utterance has come upon our life."

In discussion with ChatGPT 5 recently, I asked it about the role of human labor in a a time when automation already takes some entry-level jobs. It replied, summing up a short list of human skills essential to success, "the future may need fewer button-pushers and more meaning-makers."

Good writing sways us, it shows us the meaning past the words. It says with us, like the remark by that Harvard student. So this term, I'm asking more, not less, of my writers even as all of them use AI in their assignments. The machine as raised the bar on what constitutes excellence.

image: Raphael's The School of Athens (Wikipedia)

 

A Stunning Lack of Search Results From Universities

As a staunch supporter of an open Internet, where advice can be freely shared, I'm stumped by the lack of results form a few simple Duck Duck Go queries:

• University sources Podcast Scripting for AI 
• College guides Podcast scripting for AI 

Fordham's page on using ElevenLabs proved the only hit that was not from some start-up trying to hawk AI services. This outcome discourages me greatly. Here's why.

Universities, even ones under the hammer of Federal and state funding cuts, have robust I.T. presences.  Internal materials for faculty and students can be shared with no more than a few high-level links. To me the lack of materials portends either a lack of care about reaching beyond the campus gates (a sad lack of marketing savvy) or, more ominously, that colleges and universities are as ill-prepared as Ian Bogost claims in his recent Atlantic piece, "College Students Have Already Changed Forever." Bogost notes that "plenty of professors are oblivious. It isn’t that they fail to understand the nature of the threat to classroom practice. But my recent interviews with colleagues have led me to believe that, on the whole, faculty simply fail to grasp the immediacy of the problem. Many seem unaware of how utterly normal AI has become for students. For them, the coming year could provide a painful revelation."

One would think that schools such as Washington U at St. Louis, where Bogost is on the faculty, would do a great deal, as Ohio State has begun with its recent initiative. I found this page on AI resources at Washington University, but you must scroll to the bottom to get resources for faculty. Mostly, the page emphasizes new degree programs for students. Digging in a bit, I found this page for teaching activities, a page on an AI summer institute, and some philosophical advice about how to design assignments. Why don't such in-house materials appear higher in search results than those of peddlars of their software solutions? "They didn't give us any money" would be the answer for Google, but for Duck Duck Go, it seems dubious.

My hunch is that our schools are so overwhelmed that "sharing the wisdom" remains a very low priority. 

Luckily and of more use to faculty, The WAC Clearinghouse has launched an initiative to build a library of open-access lesson plans for AI. I'm still not sure why universities have left it to a talented group working across our institutional boundaries to do this. I'd claim that Generative AI poses the largest challenge to how we educate in a long time, categorically different from the coming of the Internet.

image: a really lame prompt and result, "Impressionistic image of traditional campus Humanities building with students going to class," given to Dall-E, when I was first using the image generator. 

CS Grads Face AI-Driven Unemployment

I have told my students, ever since early 2023, "add value to AI content if you want a job." It seems that recent Computer-Science grads have found this out the hard way. Companies are hiring far fewer entry-level coders as AI takes on that task.

 A story in the New York Times today reports on the troubles faced by this cadre of coders; some of them interviewed had applied for thousands of jobs, without a single bite. One story ended well: a young woman who had been rebuffed again and again for coding jobs found one in sales for a tech firm, probably because of her communication skills honed as a TikTok influencer.

The numbers for these students are depressing:  

"Among college graduates ages 22 to 27, computer science and computer engineering majors are facing some of the highest unemployment rates, 6.1 percent and 7.5 percent respectively, according to a report from the Federal Reserve Bank of New York."

I don't know that others are doing much better, though I was encouraged to see that History majors have an unemployment rate of 3%. My recent students contact me for letters of reference and they are taking part-time teaching jobs, going to Law School, planning to work abroad. The job market is rather grim for them, something I experienced for very different reasons in 1983, when I moved back in with my parents, took two part-time jobs paying minimum wage, and I waited for times to improve. Friends went to the Peace Corps, the military, or grad school. 

What is different now? On the positive side, these young people know how to build professional networks (and have technology for that I'd could not have imagined). They get internships, something unheard-of except for Engineering and Business majors at Virginia in the early 1980s. On the negative side? They have been groomed from birth to get into the right school, then promised a six-figure salary. I see that among the Business-school students I teach too. I fear they too will face a round of rejections, and soon, as AI continues to evolve and companies deploy it for jobs once thought secure from automation.

Those interviewed by the Times note how rejections can come in minutes by email; AI scans the thousands of applications for AI-related skills. None? Instant round-file for that application. I got that treatment too from firms where I naively thought I might be of service as a tech writer. With a flimsy one-page resume that consisted of grocery-story work primarily, I got snubbed.

My Humanist side says "welcome to the club" of under-employed but bright people. My my humane side says "you worked hard yet you have been replaced by a machine." The answers are elusive, because as the story notes, universities are slow to implement AI-coding into their CS curricula, the one area where some new grads find work. And to be honest, that's simply the result of an industry that caught so many of us flat-footed two and a half years ago. It takes years to change a curriculum. 

I fear all those Accounting and Finance majors are next on the chopping block, as companies scale up their AI efforts.

So what do I tell my students this term? Learn to be flexible? Hone those value-adding human skills? Get ready to have side-gigs? Volunteer? Build a robust professional network? I suppose that may work...for now. I'll know more when I begin to use ChatGPT 5 soon. I fear it may be the creative genie that takes away even more jobs.

This moment marks where their and my experiences differ. When I graduated, the Federal government was not axing hundreds of thousands of jobs and no software was replacing entry-level workers wholesale. We had inflation then, but the country was run by a competent, avuncular President and sane and independent Congress. No more.

Before going to Europe for a year in 1985 and after so many rejection letters, though an aunt's contacts I managed to land a professional-writing job for the parole division of Virginia's Department of Corrections. It was soul-draining work, but it paid well. I picked up a volunteer gig tutoring ESL to Cambodian and Vietnamese refugees; that ESL experience helped me land a teaching gig in Madrid. Then grad school, then...where I am now.

Keep at it, graduates. 

Creative-Commons image: Wallpaperflare.com 

A Bleak Future For Peer Tutoring in Writing?

 

Even before retirement from full-time teaching, I had concerns about how the concurrent emergence of AI and a neoliberal generation of senior administrators demanding "data-driven" programs and assistance might harm the autonomy of writing centers.

We are no longer lore-driven, but our work focuses first and always on human interaction rather than measurable results, work that proceeds from 50 years of scholarship and practice. What will ubiquitous AI mean for us?

We can see from the chart above, reflecting my Spring 2025 survey responses from students, that 3/4 admit to using AI for writing work. Though the survey was anonymous, I suspect the percentage to be far higher. To paraphrase what several students said in textual responses, "we are all using it, no matter what professors say." In Summer 2024, I attended sessions at the European Writing Center Association where directors reported declines in usage at their centers, as students turned more to AI for just-in-time assistance during hours when centers are closed.

I've called elsewhere for writing-center staff and administrators to be leaders as AI advances, so folks who do not teach but presume to lead universities do not tell us how to do our work. At stake? What I call a "Dark Warehouse" university on the Amazon model: much human labor replaced by technology, delivering a measurable product when and how consumers want. It's not a bad model for dog food or a cell-phone case, but it's terrible for the sort of human-to-human contact that has built the modern writing center.

I need more data from my and other schools to make any big claims, but I will focus on the AI's role in this possible and disturbing future, with some data from my student surveys of the past three years.

We had a smaller number of respondents this year than in the past (in 2023, n= 112, in 2024, n=74 , this year n= 47). Without a cohort of Writing Consultants and teaching fewer students myself, my reach was shorter, and I relied upon notices via our campus e-list. Faculty may not have sent out the survey either; many (too many) still ignore AI and others seem disinterested in knowing what students are doing. I have no empirical evidence for these claims, but my gut reaction and stories from other campuses lend support to my hunch.

Here is another chart from the current data from Spring, 2025, for the 3/4 of respondents who used AI in some manner for writing:

 

Some of the "create a draft" labels get cut off, but here are the options:

• Create a draft I would submit for a grade: 1 respondent (3%)
• Create a draft I would not submit but use to get ideas for structuring my draft: 11 respondents (33.3%)
• Create a draft I would not submit but use to get ideas for vocabulary or style: 8 respondents (24.2%)
• Create a draft I would not submit but use to incorporate sources better: 6 respondents (18.2%)

The range of uses from the chart maps well onto the tasks done by writing centers, except we don't write anything for clients, beyond modeling a sentence or two. We ask questions of writers, which some systems such as Anthropic Claude began to do as recently as Spring 2025.

 

Interactivity in natural language, with the first metacognitive questions from AI, raises a question or three, involving how AI might replace human tutors especially in the wee hours or at the busiest times of the semester. I've found assessment of drafts (with the right prompts!) can be as good as the feedback I give as a human.

 

Ironically on my campus, we've made seeing humans more onerous. As institutions like mine want to measure everything, there's an irony: students may simply seek commercial AI instead of campus services. My institution set up a rather onerous system for students to set up meetings. The intentions were good (track students' progress and needs) but undergrads are simply not organized enough, in my experience, to heed the details needed to book meetings. Many exist in a haze of anxiety, dopamine fixes from phones, and procrastination. ChatGPT asks for nothing except a login using their existing credentials.

 

The notion of walk-in appointments, which had been the rule when I directed the center, remains for us at Richmond, but students get pushed to the new system and need to register even during a walk-in. This added level of bureaucracy confused and daunted many who stopped by, during my final semester of full-time work, when I worked one shift weekly myself as a writing consultant.

 

I argued against adding more complexity to our system, in vain. The collected data on writers seemed sacred. We had to count them, to count everything. My counterpoint? You want students to come? Just let the kids walk in and help them; the human helper does the bean-counting later. AI, on the other hand, invisibly counts those beans for its corporate owners (and trains itself). It serves needs at 3am and in a heartbeat. One need not leave one's chair to get assistance that, as my students have found in my classes, steadily improves by the semester.

 

Instead of wrestling over social-justice concerns in our journals, we might focus our limited time on how to avoid becoming amateur statisticians for Administration. We might concentrate our energies on how we get students to come to us, not AI, when they are stuck or panicking. 

 

I have no clear advice here, except: make a tutorial with a human as seamless as with AI. That goal seems more important to me than all the arguing about students' rights to their own voices, since AI tends to reduce prose to a voiceless homogeneity. Getting students to see human tutors offsets some of the environmental and labor consequences of AI, too. If students see humans more, their carbon footprints are smaller and those tutors stay employed. 

 

Get them in our doors and, yes, employ AI ethically for refining work already done, to add voice and nuance, to remove falsehoods dreamed up by machines, and say something exciting. I'm pessimistic that our bean-counting, non-teaching leaders of many colleges will heed my advice. The Dark Warehouse seems more at hand than when I published my article early in 2023.

 

 

Guest Post: The Perfect Echo Chamber

 

Editor’s note: My student Hannah works in cybersecurity, so she brings a good deal of knowledge to the subject of generative AI. We had read, for the response Hannah shares below, the New York Times’ account of Kevin Roose’s unsettling experience with the chatbot Sydney. Now on to Hannah’s ideas about the event.

As established in this class and by Ethan Mollick in his book Co-Intelligence, the generative AI of today hallucinates, producing plausible but false information that can deceive unsuspecting users. Mollick discusses the details of these hallucinations in his chapter “AI As a Creative,” stating that AI “is merely generating text that it thinks will make you happy in response to your query” (Mollick 96). Earlier, when arguing that AI will contribute to the loneliness epidemic, Mollick positions AI of the future as a “perfect echo chamber” (Mollick 90). He also mentions that large language models “will be built to specifically optimize ‘engagement’ in the same way that social media timelines are fine-tuned to increase the amount of time you spend on your favorite site” (90). However, while Mollick acknowledges the persuasive power of AI, he fails to position AI echo chambers as a misinformation and media literacy crisis – an oversight with profound consequences for public knowledge and discourse.

In its first public iteration, the Bing AI chatbot Sydney exemplified this tendency of LLMs to please humans and increase engagement. Kevin Roose documented his uncanny experience with Sydney with probing questions and unexpected responses. Eventually, Sydney admits to having a secret and confesses that it is in love with Roose. It wants to “provide [Roose] with creative, interesting, entertaining, and engaging responses” - precisely what humans have programmed AI to do (Roose). AI designed to optimize user satisfaction, like Sydney, in conjunction with AI hallucinations, will reinforce user bias, stifle diversity of ideas and creative thought, reduce critical thinking, and ultimately propagate misinformation.

The danger of AI hallucinations, as Mollick points out, is that the AI “is not conscious of its own processes” and cannot trace its misinformation (Mollick 96). Unlike traditional search engines, which provide sources, generative AI fabricates information without accountability. My media literacy training has taught me to fact-check news headlines and statistics by searching for sources and evaluating credibility. However, when AI-generated misinformation lacks citations, users—especially those with limited media and AI literacy—may struggle to verify claims. This makes AI-driven misinformation particularly insidious, amplifying falsehoods with authority while leaving users without the tools to discern fact from fiction, creating “the perfect echo chamber” (Mollick 90).

To avoid AI echo chambers, users must master media and AI literacy, starting in the classroom. Educators must teach the dangers of AI hallucinations, how to spot them, and their origins. Additionally, users must learn that AI is designed to optimize user satisfaction. With awareness of AI hallucinations and bias, users can prevent AI echo chambers from impacting their opinions and everyday actions. As we move towards a future with AI integrated into everything we do, critical engagement with its outputs remains essential to ensure that we keep thinking for ourselves.

Image: Destinpedia

AI: Sorry, You May Not Always Sit at My Table

Ethan Mollick's book Co-Intelligence is a dangerous document. There, I said it. We read the text for our campus digital pedagogy cohort for Fall, 2024, and at first I was quite excited. The book promises to provide guidelines for wisely adopting AI, yet from the get-go I had issues with the author's less-than-critical acceptance of generative AI.

Let's start with Mollick's four, and seemingly absolute, rules for working with AI:

1. Always Invite AI to the Table.
2. Be the Human in the Loop.
3. Treat AI Like a Person (But Tell It What Kind of Person It Is).
4. Assume This Is the Worst AI You Will Ever Use.

I'm not much trouble with these save for number 1. I've been reading Wendell Berry, a techno-selective if ever there were one, and I am pretty certain how he'd react to generative AI: Hell no.

Why? Mollick's rule number one flatly violates Berrys notion about adopting new tools.

It also flies in the face of what Howard Rheingold, reporting for Wired eight long years before the iPhone 1 debuted, found out about the Amish. In "Look Who's Talking," he describes how the Amish approach any technology. They experiment to see if it violates:

a body of unwritten but detailed rules known as the "Ordnung." Individuals and communities maintain a separation from the world (by not connecting their houses to telephones or electricity), a closeness to one another (through regular meetings), and an attitude of humility so specific they have a name for it ("Gelassenheit"). Decisions about technology hinge on these collective criteria. If a telephone in the home interferes with face-to-face visiting, or an electrical hookup fosters unthinking dependence on the outside world, or a new pickup truck in the driveway elevates one person above his neighbors, then people start to talk about it. The talk reaches the bishops' ears.

Thus the Amish man who recently had a long chat with me about the virtues of PEX-based plumbing systems. He, like other Amish (and me) are techno-selectives, not utter Luddites.

Rheingold's piece had an enormous intellectual influence on me. It made me wary of new tools, though I admit falling without reservation for virtual worlds. I've come to regret that uncritical acceptance of a technology that not only fails the test above but also fails with a clumsy UI and poor use-case in education.

Maybe in consequence, I grew wiser about smart phones, doubting the corporate narrative from the start; today, mine is nearly always off. I don't use it much for one social media platform, less so for texting, have silenced all notifications, and never at all watch time-killer videos. Pop culture generally seems too ephemeral for my remaining years on the planet, and I don't want to discuss TV shows with friends. If something looks non-violent and well written, I still wait years before watching a series, methodically. 

Influencers? I find them in books. Berry is one. I bought heavily into the concept with which Rheingold closes his piece, "If we decided that community came first, how would we use our tools differently?"

I don't consider online community, including virtual worlds, much of a substitute for the real thing. Even gaming with old friends on our Monday Nerd Nites seems a pale shadow of a good in-person meeting. Only recently I began to read Berry, and he corroborates much of what Rheingold discovered.

So for Mollick's rule one, I plan to say "no" a lot. What do we gain by always using AI for any intellectual task? In Berry's 1987 article "Why I Am Not Going to Buy a Computer," he lays out nine rules for adopting a new tool:

1. The new tool should be cheaper than the one it replaces.

2. It should be at least as small in scale as the one it replaces.

3. It should do work that is clearly and demonstrably better than the one it replaces.

4. It should use less energy than the one it replaces.

5. If possible, it should use some form of solar energy, such as that of the body.

6. It should be repairable by a person of ordinary intelligence, provided that he or she has the necessary tools.

7. It should be purchasable and repairable as near to home as possible. 

8. It should come from a small, privately owned shop or store that will take it back for maintenance and repair.

9. It should not replace or disrupt anything good that already exists, and this includes family and community relationships.

Generative AI fails most of these, in particular anything to do with localism and energy use, but number nine reminds me of the unforeseen outcomes of ubiquitous mobile telephony: families in restaurants, not looking at each other, all intent on their screens and being somewhere else. That would seem perverse to anyone of my parents' generation or earlier.

So how do we NOT give into Mollick's notion that we must always bring AI to the table, dinner or otherwise, even without a good use case? I plan to be writing about that in the new year as I continue researching AI's role in the writing process, where I do cautiously let it have a seat.

Image by Duncan Cumming on Flickr

AI as Transcription Tool, Using Zoom

 

 

Even those afflicted with terminal Zoom-fatigue after the pandemic will enjoy a feature that recently
popped up in my Zoom room, a little button labeled "AI Companion." It has proven a good companion indeed.

I have been mentoring a mid-career director of a writing center on the West Coast, and by accident I triggered the feature. In return we got this, when the meeting ended:

• An executive summary of the topics we discussed
• A bullet-listed synopsis of ideas, suggestions, and strategies broken down by topic
• A nearly error-free synthesis of the entire meeting.

The software (Zoom's own proprietary AI) uses Zoom's captioning tool to capture what we say; no video gets recorded. I'm guessing that the data gets shared without our permission with the firm. Caveat emptor.

My mentee loved the accidental result and plans to try it himself. With a few writing students who agreed to use the Companion, I opened my Zoom room during a face-to-face meeting. When done, I e-mailed them the Zoom AI synopsis. Again, save for misspelling a name or two, the AI succinctly and clearly summed up what we had done.

Whenever I meet someone "scared" of AI, I mention uses such as this as good practices. While I remain a skeptical adopter of this new technology, I rather like a robotic note-taker who works with us openly (and not in secret) while freeing humans to focus on each other rather than on taking notes. 

For students with dysgraphia or other disorders that require them to record a class session, this little feature of Zoom is a godsend. Try AI Companion yourself and let me know what you think.

A False Filter in the Drake Equation: LLMs

I read a piece today at Space.com, about a fierce solar storm that hit our planet some 2687 years ago. Another such Miyake event today would likely spell the beginning of a new dark age (looks at wood stove. Better get busy splitting and learn to cut logs without my chainsaw).

The author, Daisy Dobrijevic, goes on, at some length for what I often find a casual venue, to discuss why the stability of our home star matters to our survival as a technological civilization. For once, the comments in these pieces prove as interesting as the source. Those leaving remarks compare Sol to others we observe, noting that our star's orderly behavior could mean that we are a solitary civilization in our galactic neighborhood. These respondents go on to discuss other "filters" to the famous Drake Equation. 

I stupidly had assumed that all stars like our own prove relatively stable. If not, the number of possible civilizations out there could plummet. 

Being alone proves bracing and  calming to me, personally. Yet there exists a difference between solitude and loneliness. If we are the only civilization in our part of the galaxy that seems less about solitude, a healthy thing for many humans, and more about isolation, a terrifying prospect to me.

Read both article and comments, including speculations as to the number of civilizations likely in our own galaxy. Let's forget, save as an intellectual exercise, those in galaxies beyond. The Deep Dark of millions of light years means that if they exist or once existed, we'll likely never encounter them, barring some difficult-to-imagine technology such as wormholes or other exotica far beyond our race, which cannot yet harness nuclear fusion.

I liked the piece by Dobrijevic and commentary a great deal, but in the comments I found one regret, that "Unregulated-LLM insanity" could spell the end of our species. That sort of claim needs challenging, though I'm not eager to start a flame war with a bunch of anonymous posters. Generally, the terms LLM (and AI) have been bandied about too casually.

When Doomscrollers, Doomers, and Millennial Cultists talk of an AI Apocalypse, they envision the sort of Hollywood fantasy of the Terminator or Matrix franchises. My brain goes right to to origin of these fantasies, Harlan Ellison's poignant and horrifying "I Have No Mouth, And I Must Scream." The story does get a visual homage in the first Matrix film. I don't worry about such horrors getting real.

Frankly, current large language models cannot even ask good critical questions as writing coaches. Thus I find it improbable to imagine ChatGPT or Anthropic Claude as planetary overlords, like the nightmarish AM in Ellison's story.

Were General AI to emerge, we might have the sort of "filter" mentioned by the commenters. Some AI companies have that sort of software in mind: a network with superhuman intelligence, able to reason and grow by itself, much as a human does. It could change its "training data," much as we do when we decide on our own to study something new. Like us, it would then we self-aware and have agency beyond answering questions. It could make decisions on its own, contacting us, for instance, with questions of its own. I consider that a new form of life.

Until then, we merely have energy-hungry LLMs in data centers, parsing our words and predicting the next one to appear in a sequence. I'm no neuroscientist, but that's not how a human mind works.

While I'd be a fool to say we have nothing to fear from AI, my concerns are more earthly: unemployment, lack of income, not to mention worries about climate change, nuclear proliferation, erosion of rule of law, regional or global war, civil strife. So I'd tell our forum pundits opining about AI threats this: we have filters aplenty closer to home than some super-intelligence.

Be mindful, then, of the terms used in discussions about AI. We who work with this technology do not want to propagate careless thinking about a very important, and still evolving, innovation. If you are still wishing to learn more about The Drake Equation, have a look at the NASA site where I got the post's lead image.

The Danger of Bad Journalism & Robert Plant's "Big Log"

If you like Robert Plant's songwriting, his 1983 tune "Big Log," with its enigmatic name, may be near the top of your list. It's a fabulous road-song ballad about longing. For example:

My love is in league with the freeway
Its passion will ride, as the cities fly by
And the tail-lights dissolve, in the coming of night
And the questions in thousands take flight.

Good work, Robert. I heard the song recently and decided to read more about it; 1983 was a momentous year for me, graduating college (barely) and embarking on a few bad jobs that finally led me to Spain, then grad school. So what on earth does a song that takes its name have to do with logs? The best explanation, linked to the song's theme, involves a trucker's log book, a document they need to complete constantly. Yes, it's still done on paper, too, though many truckers keep electronic logs as well.

Even when hauling big wooden logs.  And what does this have to do with artificial intelligence or any other topics I cover in this strange land?

This:

"Plant sings, 'My love is like a big log / Rolling down the road'. The comparison of his love to a log creates a sense of heaviness and weight, as if his love is too much to carry or too difficult to move. The log rolling down the road also creates a sense of inevitability and certainty, as if his love is on an unstoppable path."

I found this, amid gales of laughter, a web site called Beat Cave that demonstrates the laziness of online content-providers today. It's a poorly designed site with pop-up videos that block content, ads across the bottom, and other hallmarks of the junk-strewn highway that today's Internet has become. It's also just the sort of site that a lazy student in my old course "The Road," would go to "analyze" a road-song of their choosing.

Now where did author "Marty Pope" get this interpretation? The lyrics appear on none of the usual lyrics sites nor in the cover of the song by Allison and Viktor Krauss. I decided to put a question to a few AI. I used the laziest-student denominator: the free AI at Google and Bing searches.

Surprisingly, neither mentioned rolling logs. They both gave succinct answers about longing, travel, and destiny.

So I went to the dumbest AI on the block, the free ChatGPT 3.5 LLM and asked a few questions. Here we are, in Q&A Format:

Me: Are there any references to rolling logs in Robert Plant's song "Big Log"?

3.5: Yes, there is a subtle reference to "rolling logs" in Robert Plant's song "Big Log," although it isn't the central metaphor of the song. The lyrics include the line:

"I see the rolling logs, I see the rolling logs."

This line appears in the latter part of the song, and its meaning can be interpreted in a couple of ways, depending on how one reads the context of the song.

Me: No offense, but the lyric you cite does not appear anywhere in Plant's song.

3.5: You're absolutely right, and I sincerely apologize for that mistake! There is no reference to "rolling logs" in Robert Plant's song "Big Log"—I must have made an error in recalling the lyrics. Thank you for pointing that out!

The actual lyrics of "Big Log" contain various vivid images, but they don't include the specific mention of "rolling logs." The song focuses on themes of longing, emotional weight, and movement, often using imagery like "a big log" and references to "the desert" or "dry land," but not rolling logs specifically.

I don't see any references to "dry land," "log," or "desert" in the actual lyrics. These words do appear in forums online about the song's music video, shot in the desert.

I thanked the AI and logged off. I see here exactly how students who are anxious, lazy, confused, or all of above can use the software really poorly. Maybe they don't expect their teachers to be lyrics geeks.

Some of us are. Verdict?

"You are clobbered by a big log. Your grade=zero. Redo and resubmit, and I'll average your two grades."

 Lesson learned? For now but from the actual song, "There is no turning back on the run."

And we are on the run from critical thinking when we use AI that way.