Considering the fact that I stupidly signed up for the ABAA Virtual Book Fair the same weekend that we were traveling to Virginia for a wedding, things worked out pretty well. I fielded orders at rest stops along the way and postponed the resolution of a couple of problems until my return on Monday – both of which, I’m happy to say, were resolved this morning. So Anya and I made a few grand while having a grand time with old and new friends at the nuptials. Driving home through the dreaded Nor’easter was a bit of a challenge. But, as usual, our contemporary weather forecasting hysteria had made it seem much worse than it actually was. And hey… no snow!
A Jack Reacher novel played all the way from VA to MA and, as we listened inattentively to Reacher’s various head bashings and narrow escapes, the thought of Reacher’s villains wandered somehow to the threat of AI, and particularly the way it has become normalized. What seemed like science fiction a decade ago has become just another aspect of popular culture, along with nuclear holocaust, global warming, the next pandemic, and Trump’s clown show. To wit: while AI big boys are figuring out how to go rogue, junior AI scam agents and sleaze bots are coming on strong, establishing themselves in every branch of commerce.
In my case, it’s books. I’ve had three “people” contact me by email to tell me how much they were impressed by one of my novels or non-fiction books. Each of them expressed their enthusiasm for my out-of-print works by sending me an obviously AI-generated summary and appreciation. This was followed by the pitch. They believed deeply in me and my work, and they were determined to see my under-appreciated books back on the market again! They would mount a vigorous publicity campaign. Readings would be scheduled around the country. Review copies would be distributed far and wide. All I had to do was send them a few hundred bucks for startup costs and we’d be off to the races.
Then, when we returned home, I found an oversized postcard in the mail pile. It was from an outfit called Claimshero. Anthropic had scraped the contents of three of my copyrighted books, and I had already signed on to the class action suit put forward by the Author’s Guild. These guys were soliciting me to “join the over 1000 authors and publishers who are fighting for their rights against AI companies…”
In other words, if I sign up with them and the Author’s Guild suit is successful, and I receive my payout they’ll scrape off a 35% “contingency fee” and send me the rest. Duhh. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?
Maybe we don’t have to worry so much about AI going rogue and taking the world over. Maybe we’ll have drowned in AI sleaze dreck long before then.
Where’s Reacher when we really need him?
Greg:
A few days back, just after finishing the Arbusian book, I sent you a text that I’ll be TYPING and MAILING you a letter in response to my reading of Hubert’s. Between 2013 and 2017 I typed and mailed out 650 letters, never once retaining a copy. Soft blows against the empire, me thinks could be said, but really, I cannot sensibly compose on the electronic devices – something about the thunka-thunk of manual typewriter keys, the actual sculpture of a key slamming into the raggy paper medium, clears the sludge and opens the channels between brainheart and paper. So the other “rule” about letters is that I neither require nor secretly expect a response. (If I were really “evolved” I’d probably utter some self-righteously assholian quip like: “In a fervent belief that all has been reduced to the transactional bagel, shmered with the creamcheese of monetization, the royal we of one wishes to free up any perceived obligation to return a letter in kind; any received response will be returned, unopened, via the now sadly hobbled USPS, at our expense.”. But I’m not, so I won’t. Thanks for a fabulous read. (I wrote this)