by NANCY GONGLIKWANYEOHEEEEEEEH, Alternate Reality News Service Technology Writer
Will wonders never cease? Perhaps. I am no expert on wonders (I do so prefer bagels), but I am reliably told by people who know that that is, in fact, the nature of wonders. However, given the pace with which technology on Earth Prime 2-9-7-9-9-2 dash epsilon has developed, one has to consider the possibility that they will tire and slow somewhat.
Mister Charles Babbage’s creation, the difference engine, ably assisted by The Countess of Lovelace’s computational skills, has revolutionized every facet of modern society. Mechanical computation of governance, for example, has made the collection of taxes much more efficient; while this admittedly is to the great annoyance of many, even the most dedicated churl will allow that civilizing the barbaric races must be funded somehow. For those who can afford it, the difference engine has made changes in how men manage their personal finances, and even allowed women to keep track of the contents of their larders to ensure that they always have the ingredients the preparation of their meals require.
But can the difference engine make a difference to literature? Mister Jedediah Pursestring, the creator of a programme known as DiscussionGPT believes that it can.
“We have trained DiscussionGPT on all of the classics of literature,” Mister Pursestring claimed as his bonny wife Misses Priscilla Pursestring served tea in the spacious drawing room of their handsome home. “Not unlike how a modern writer trains his sensibility. A modern human writer. And just as a human writer takes the raw materials of those who came before him and makes them his own, I expect that my creation is now able to do likewise.”
Not all men of letters are sanguine about the prospect. “A machine that can write a novel as well as a man? Absurd!” scoffed Mister Charles Dickens, an author of modern romances.
“The Good Lord gave the spark of creativity to man,” elaborated Misses Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin Shelley, a loving mother and dabbler in the literary arts whose novel Frankenstein, or A Modern Prometheus is popular in certain circles, “whom, I am certain I need not tell you, was made in his image. While I have no doubt that Mister Pursestring’s…creation is quite clever at mimicking human literary endeavour, I am certain that it is not capable of true creativity. To believe otherwise would be tantamount to Blasphemy!”
As a matter of fact – “While I go to great lengths never -” Mister Pursestring began at the same time as I. I deferred to him. “While I prefer never to engage in adversarial discourse with a lady, I must respectfully disagree with Misses Shelley. If the Lord, in His infinite wisdom, gave man the ability to create entities that themselves are capable of creation, is that not part of His divine will as well?”
Having allowed him to make his point, it was only just and right that I continue with mine. To whit: Mister Pursestring’s creation is somewhat less than clever at mimicking human literary endeavour. In fact, DiscussionGPT’s literary creations have thus far been so riddled with typographical, grammatical and semantic errors, they would put a grade school primer to shame!
“Be fair!” Mister Pursestring objected. “DiscussionGPT is learning by leaps and bounds. If the results of its efforts are less than could be hoped for at the moment, I can assure you that it is only a matter of time before it produces new works that are the equal of Plato, Chaucer or Mariflouent the Younger Even Though He Was of an Age To Be Considered an Elder!”
“If I may,” argued Mister John Maynard Keynes, an economist of some note and controversy. “It would appear to me that this programme, this DiscussionGPT, can produce an opus in a matter of hours that it would take a man decades to write! In this way, it could saturate the market for stories, displacing the need for human labour. The results could be devastating for journeymen and accomplished professionals alike!”
“It doesn’t have to be,” Mister Pursestring pouted. However, when pressed about this disturbing vision of the future, his retort, “Writers will no doubt adapt to the new conditions in the marketplace. As Mister Darwin has shown, we are masters at adaptation!” left something to be desired.
It is to Mister H. G. Wells, a novelist of the fantastic of no little renown, that I award the last word on the subject: “I wish I had thought of this.”