Thanksgiving weekend, a friend in one of my chats started remarking on the wonders of ChatGPT. One by one, we batted the shiny new toy around before it overwhelmed us. Although some people had already been experimenting with generative AI art programs like Midjourney, ChatGPT felt closer to engaging with a human being. By ordering simple prompts, ChatGPT would unfold a conversation, a new idea, an “original” thought. It was like Siri or Alexa, but instead of reporting what’s happened in the past, ChatGPT was part of “creating” the future.
AI evolves at an exponential pace and so does its awareness. In those first few months, only NFT, futurist, and tech bros seemed to be mindful of AI developments. In the last several weeks, “AI” and “ChatGPT” have populated mainstream news headlines, late night show bits, and the words have probably come up at your school or work because of their potential to change jobs or eliminate them.
Some of my friends believe AI is a gimmick. Others are convinced AI will destroy mankind. I don’t have a decided opinion on generative AI. The current is moving so blindingly fast, that it’s too early to plant a firm flag. So, I monitor and observe, like a breakneck game of jump-rope, waiting for an opportunity to hop in.
Speaking of NFT, I’ve learned many lessons in my last couple years exploring Web3. The one I will probably speak most about as I promote this next book is being slow to judgment. Because of tech’s nature to expand quickly, compounded with social media’s live transmission of everybody’s opinions, a lot of important progress may be stifled or abbreviated because people aren’t willing to allow ideas to live their natural course. In the Stolen Focus, hyperactive attention economy, this canceling/curtailing of innovation is the equivalent of turning off a Netflix series 5 minutes in because you didn’t like the opening dialogue. I’m guilty of this also. I lend Oscar winning films a dusting of my time, broken up between TikTok and email, before condemning them with a final judgment. Immediately, I scrub through suggested thumbnails for my next contestant. “Which of you deserves my attention? You better blow up a cruise boat or senselessly murder somebody in the first 45 seconds or else I’m gonna turn on this comedy show from 2011!”
Phenomenal, groundbreaking, life-changing movies only take two hours of our time, and we can’t even afford them that. Great ideas take much longer to come to fruition - months, years, lifetimes even. To nip those thoughts, dreams, and visions… right as they are coalescing in their awkward adolescent stage, is a terrible tragedy. It’s short-sighted, it’s smug, and it’s selfish. We have become so arrogant — plump and engorged with Internet facts — that we think we know how an entire film will play out from its title sequence. And then, we dismantle it to our audiences.
“I didn’t get it…”
”Maybe because you didn’t finish it?”
In the end, we’re like Ramona Quimby, the Beverly Cleary storybook character who foolishly believed the first bite of the apple tasted best. So, she ran through an entire box, hollowing out chunks of every apple. Ramona wound up on the floor, nursing an ill stomach, surrounded by a litter of damaged fruit. Ramona didn’t appreciate any of those apples for their full meaning or purpose. Even worse, nobody else got to either.