Robots

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I love knowing stuff. Maybe that’s why I’ve been glued to the TV during the run of Jeopardy champ, James Holzhauer, who has a system – he goes big right away in the categories so he buys himself some cash to lose if he needs to – but who also has an astounding array of facts inside his head.

It’s amazing to watch.

I’m really good at memorizing. Being able to memorize helped me in school. Ask me those same things the day after the test, and I’d look at you blankly. I hadn’t really learned anything, I’d just memorized.

I  was having lunch with some friends recently and they all have school-aged children. They were talking about what a struggle school is for their highly creative children because they are being taught facts in order to spit those facts out on standardized tests that will make them – and their schools – look good. It’s important to look good. Funding for the schools depends on it.

But, of course, what’s happening is that the kids are learning information and not how to think. They aren’t learning that the nifty thing they learned in history class is the reason the other nifty thing they learned in science class matters. They aren’t learning with heart. In fact, I would argue, they aren’t even learning.

Ask them after those standardized tests if they remember anything. I’ll bet their minds purged the facts just as thoroughly as mine used to.

You know what stuck with me, through all of my school years and even now?

Stories.

Stories that took those disparate facts and shaped them with context and emotion and memory. Stories may or may not do it for you. But they probably do. There is nothing so comforting as the “once upon a time…” You just sink into it, don’t you? It’s how we humans keep the dark away.

Some of the news I watch is all worried that robots are going to take over our jobs. But robots can’t yet mimic the nuance that is story. I was reading a story about robots writing news – they can gather appropriate facts, but journalists don’t have to worry yet, because they can’t arrange the facts into the kind of flow that is almost intuitive with humans. It’s the way we communicate. It’s full of nuance and sometimes full of contradictions. Robots don’t handle nuance or contradiction as well as we do.

Even outside of writing, decisions get made based on intuition and experience and just that indefinable “something” – robots don’t have our bias, but they don’t have our gut either.

Robots can analyze data at breath-taking speed, but I can’t see them making that dazzling leap that we humans do when we jump into innovation because something that has nothing to do with what we’re working on, just might work for what we’re working on.

I’m not worried about robots taking over our jobs. I’m worried about humans being turned into robots because they are being fed facts – information and not knowledge.

Artificial Intelligence Brain

 

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Letting Her Back In

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People tell you that you should remove toxic people from your life.

But what if you’ve removed someone from your life not because they are toxic but because you were toxic when you were with them? And what if they want back in now?

I had a friend when I was in college.

When I met this friend my first night at the college dorm, I was blown away.  She was sophisticated and glamorous. Everything I hadn’t tried in high school, she had already done, and more. She made being bad seem like fun – kind of like those bad girls in the noir detective films. I was smitten.

We moved from the dorm into an apartment together. It was a big party. Until it wasn’t.

The stuff I thought was so sophisticated turned into adult-sized problems I just wasn’t mature enough to handle.

A few years passed. My friend married an older guy with a lot of money who seemed pretty decent, but the marriage didn’t last long. I found my own – not older — guy and we moved in together.

We weren’t super-close anymore, but we were still friends.

Until the time – the second time, actually – I got a call in the middle of the night from the cops. My number was the emergency number my friend carried. And she had overdosed – again. The cops wanted me to know what hospital she was going to be in – again.

When she was sober, I told her not to call me again. I told her I needed to save my own life and I just didn’t have anything left to give her.

Years went by and then, last month, there was a message in LinkedIn. She had kept track of me. She could understand if I didn’t want to connect, but she had always loved and admired me. How was I?

I let the message sit for days.

She seemed to be doing well, based on what she wrote me about her life. I was happy to hear that.

But did I want her back in my life?

I am left to wonder. If I don’t offer to repair the friendship, am I trying to punish her somehow for things that were completely out of her control? Am I protecting myself from future heartache in case she’s not as put together as her message made her sound? Am I afraid that her sadness might somehow smudge the happy-happy now I’ve created? And am I the person I thought I was if I just shut her out again?

I don’t have answers. I don’t want to hurt her. I just don’t want to hurt myself either.

Listen to the companion podcast.