#Hi-Tech Automation

[hitech-automations]

We providing all kinds of bearings with Affordable Value

[wraithsoutlaws]

do you think there is any elitism regarding tattoo application in cyberpunk? cause we see v's tattoo being applied automatically by a ripperdoc but i have to assume that tattoo artist is still a job, if even a dying one that's slowly being replaced by machines. like even today we see artists fighting for their work and the integrity of art in general versus ai, and i know in the tattoo community there have been similar things happening re: robotics/automated application within the last few years (look up BlackDot tattoo) and i just want to know what that community is like in 2077. there must still be old school corner tattoo shops right??

[punkriod-aes]

PETS. /. ~BLAC.KSTAR~

[varpusvaras]

Bruce: Now you can live a normal life, fall in love-

Jason: Bitch I'm married already and have a job

Bruce: - and- what?

Jason: I've been married for a while now. My name isn't even Todd anymore, it's Harper

Bruce: ...like Arsenal?

Jason: Yes, like Arsenal. Anyway I have a Q-tech tracker and a panic button on me and I pressed it a while ago

Bruce: What does that mean- oh

Bruce: *turns around*

Oliver:

Bruce:

Oliver:

Bruce: Be reasonable, Oliver

Oliver: No *pulls out his automated arrow turret*

[odoraful]

𝑯𝑬𝑳𝑷𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑹𝑬𝑷𝑨𝑰𝑹 𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑨𝑹𝑴 ᯓ 𝑪𝑨𝑳𝑬𝑩

⟡ content: gn!reader ; established relationship ; honey petname hehe ; minor hurt/comfort (which i didn't anticipate honestly, but it seemed to just go in that direction :O) ; 1.5k wc

⟡ a/n: i watched a clip where pepper potts helps tony stark replace like the tech in his heart and my brain went straight to caleb! also i don't know bionics at all so pls suspend disbelief at my descriptions of tech because its definitely all baloney HAHA also still figuring out how to write for caleb so it might be ooc..,, ANYWAY I DIGRESS i do hope it's an enjoyable read!! <33

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It was beyond you why Caleb chose to entrust you with this task, and equally incomprehensible that you agreed to it. Sure, you knew your way around certain weaponry and gadgets—a skill every good Hunter needed to have—but you were certainly no biomechanical engineer. Yet here you were sitting in the living room of Caleb’s home, his bionic arm fully revealed to you and a set of tools being laid out on the table.

“Isn’t the maintenance process… automated?” you asked, voice quivering with trepidation.

Caleb finished arranging the equipment in front of him. A neat array of screwdrivers and wires.

Comparably, there was no indication of hesitancy in his voice when he spoke.

“Yes, it typically is,” he answered, sitting back down on the sofa. He flexed the fingers of his right arm before flashing a smile at you, “but this isn’t one of those typical times.”

His usually comforting smile did little to ease you. You sat down, observing his arm as he continued speaking.

“One of the wires here—” Caleb pointed to the area at his elbow, “—has loosened for some reason. It just needs some reconnecting and I’ll be right as rain.”

He was right. Upon closer inspection, you could see the wire now beginning to detach from the small, round metal piece it was connected to. Occasionally, a tiny spark of electricity flashed from within the empty hole. If this was left unchecked, it would certainly lead to some kind of malfunction.

You squirmed in the cushion. “Wouldn’t telling the Fleet be better? Don’t they have technicians to do this exact thing?”

Caleb's lips quirked upwards, betraying the stiffness he suddenly felt.

Yes, it would be protocol to let the people responsible for this arm know (whether that was the Fleet or not he would never admit the truth of to you), but it was far too bothersome to have them inspect and diagnose for such a minor issue. And then, there was the pain of it as well. Caleb was very familiar with gritting one’s teeth and baring it, but the soulless nature of the Professor’s rooms made him always feel so alone. Despite the bright, sterile lights and the group of masked technicians in white coats attending to his arm, it was always just him and the pain and the desire for everything to be finished already.

Things were a lot different now with you here, finally here with him.

“Oh, your touch is much gentler than anyone in the Fleet, trust me,” he replied.

Though he hadn’t actually answered your question, the line was enough classic Caleb charm to disarm you. He looked fondly over at your expression as your shook your head, trying to stifle your laugh.

“It’s not a full maintenance repair, just a simple replacement. I’ll walk you through every step, don’t worry.”

He patted the space right next to him and you shuffled over.

“Caleb… will this hurt you?”

You couldn’t help but recall the pain he was in when his arm was hooked up to that machine. Your chest grew tight at the memory.

“Not at all, I swear,” he quickly responded. “Like I said, it’s just a replacement.”

He reached over to pick up a screwdriver. Turning his right arm around so you could see his elbow clearer, he used the tool to point out a small screw on the round metal pieces where the wire was being held.

“So, all you need to do is turn this a little to the left, and it should loosen the wire enough to remove it.”

Caleb then reached for the table to pick up a wire the same as the one in his arm. Though, the metallic conductors could be seen emerging out from the ends of the black casing.

“Then, all you need to do is just need to replace it with this.”

You repeated his words over in your mind. Loosen and then replace.

Exhaling a nervous breath, you took the screwdriver. You placed a hand against his arm to help steady yourself. The metal cooled your sweaty palm. Moving closer, you inserted the tip of the screwdriver into the screw, turning it slowly as possible. Afraid that any quick movements might have an adverse effect.

Just as Caleb had said, once the screws were turned, the metal pieces widened and the wire was freely hanging, only held to the arm by its conductive metal.

So focused on making sure your hands weren’t shaking, you didn’t see Caleb’s eyes scrunched shut, taking in deep breaths through his nose.

“Ah!”

Your head snapped up hearing him wince. His eyes peeled open, a weak but sheepish expression on his face.

“Caleb! You promised it wouldn’t hurt you!”

At your accusatory look, he chuckled wearily. “That was nothing! Just a little—” he sucked a sharp breath in “—buzz that’s all.”

Panicked, you put the screwdriver down. “W-what do I do now?!” you stuttered out, holding your hands away from the exposed area.

“Take the old wire out and put the new one in the same spot.” Despite his discomfort, Caleb tempered his voice. His composure kept your fear at bay for the moment. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be alright.”

You nodded. Moving you hand closer again, you held onto the wire delicately. You pulled slowly. Thankfully, it released without any tugging needed.

“Mhm, there you go. You’re doing great,” Caleb reassured.

The conductive wire unfurled as if aware it was being replaced. You picked up the wire Caleb had held previously in demonstration and lined it up in the empty space. Similarly, the wire reattached itself.

“Now tighten it with the screwdriver.”

Turning the screws once again, you felt the round metal pieces tighten around the wire, holding it securely in place. The repair appeared successful.

You let out a long sigh, relief washing over you. You looked at Caleb’s face, hoping you wouldn’t find him pale and stricken. Instead, he was smiling. He turned his bionic arm around, bending his elbow and wiggling his fingers. It looked like it was back to normal.

“Look at that,” he beamed. “I knew you could do it, honey.”

Your laugh was filled with disbelief at his complete faith in you. “Please don’t ask me to do this again.” You were still slightly delirious by everything that just happened.

“What if I don’t have anyone but you?” he responded.

You knew that statement wasn’t true. There were plenty of people he could rely on to assist him with this. He was the Colonel of the Farspace Fleet after all. Yet, there was a softness in his tone and a distance in his eyes as he spoke. He really believed that to be the truth.

You looped your pinkie finger around his (still hesitant if your craftsmanship had fully worked). Caleb glanced down at your movement. He saw your tenderness and there was a phantom sensation of warmth right where your fingers connected. Though, he knew it was all just his brain and its sensory signals trying desperately to reconstruct a feeling he once had.

“But what if I messed up a-and something bad had happened? I just don’t want to hurt you.”

Caleb enveloped his hand around yours. His touch was cold and metallic, but his words were anything but.

“Nothing you do could ever hurt me.”

The color of his bionic arm began to change. It flickered in the same way a holographic screen did when you put your hand through it. His arm was recalibrating to project the perfect color, and to mimic the feeling of real skin. As fast as you could blink, it returned to its usual appearance.

Caleb squeezed your hand. “See? Right as rain.”

The sudden mixture of your fear and sadness made you crave being in his hold. You pulled him into a hug. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you buried you face into his shoulder.

“Hey, it’s alright,” he soothed, rubbing your back. “I’m still here with you, arm fully functional.”

“I know…” you remained glued to his shoulder, voice muffling.

“Nothing bad will happen to me,” he said, coaxing you gently both in speech and touch as he grazed his finger against your cheek. “Could I see you? Please?”

You lifted your head up, leaning back. Your eyes were glossy with tears and Caleb felt as though he’d been stabbed in the chest. He kissed you on the forehead. With his thumb, he carefully swiped at your bottom lashes.

“I'm sorry, honey. I don’t know what I was thinking wanting you to do this,” he murmured, his warm breath tickling your skin at his closeness. “You don’t have to do this for me next time.”

“It’s okay,” you sniffed, shaking your head. “Now that I know what to expect, I think I can help you if this happens again.”

The shock soon passed. Feeling the rise and fall of Caleb’s chest grounded you. You both held each other until the pain faded, talking to each other quietly in the embrace.

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[mostlysignssomeportents]

More Everything Forever

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me at NEW ZEALAND'S UNITY BOOKS in AUCKLAND on May 2, and in WELLINGTON on May 3. More tour dates (Pittsburgh, PDX, London, Manchester) here.

Astrophysicist Adam Becker knows a few things about science and technology – enough to show, in a new book called More Everything Forever that the claims that tech bros make about near-future space colonies, brain uploading, and other skiffy subjects are all nonsense dressed up as prediction:

https://www.hachettebookgroup.com/titles/adam-becker/more-everything-forever/9781541619593/

Becker investigates the personalities, the ideologies, the coalitions, the histories, and crucially, the grifts behind such science fictional pursuits as infinite life-extension, space colonization, automation panic, AI doomerism, longtermism, effective altruism, rationalism, and conciousness uploading.

This is, loosely speaking, the bundle of ideologies that Timnit Gebru and Émile P. Torres dubbed TESCREAL (transhumanism, Extropianism, singularitarianism, (modern) cosmism, Rationalism, Effective Altruism, and longtermism):

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/TESCREAL

While these are largely associated with modern Silicon Valley esoteric techbros (and the odd Oxfordian like Nick Bostrom), they have very deep roots, which Becker excavates – like Nikolai Fyodorov's 18th century "cosmism," a project to "scientifically" resurrect everyone who ever lived inside of a simulation:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nikolai_Fyodorov_(philosopher)

In their modern incarnation, these ideas largely originate in science fiction novels. That is to say, they were made up and popularized by people like me, the vast majority of whom made no pretense of being able to predict the future or even realistically describe a path from the present to the future they were presenting. Science fiction is something between a card trick and a consensual con game, where the writer shows you just enough detail to make you think that the rest of it must be lurking somewhere in the wings. No one in sf has ever explained how consciousness uploading could possibly work, and neither have any of the advocates for consciousness uploading – the difference is that (most of) the sf writers know they're just making stuff up.

Becker's central question is how many "smart" people (some of them very smart and accomplished, others merely very certain that they are smart despite all evidence to the contrary) can mistake futuristic allegories made up by pulp writers for prophesy?

In answering this question, he uncovers a corollary of Upton Sinclair's famous maxim that "it is difficult to get a man to understand something, when his salary depends on his not understanding it," namely, that "it is easy to get a person to believe something when doing so will make them feel good about themselves."

The beliefs that Becker explores in this book sometimes make the believers rich (like the AI grifters who run around shouting about AI taking over the world and turning us all into paperclips). Sometimes, they make their believers feel good about being selfish assholes (like longtermism, which holds that all the misery in the world today is worth it if you can make 24 heptillion hypothetical simulated people just a little happy in 10,000 years). Sometimes, they make their believers feel good about life after death, or eternal life – the same pitch that religions have been roping in followers with since the stone age.

What differentiates these beliefs from other faith-based claims is that their followers claim that they aren't operating on faith, but on science, reason and rationality. This is where the fact that Becker is a bona fide astrophysicist comes in. Not only is he personally qualified to debunk claims about space colonization, but he's also familiar with the rigorous process of scientific inquiry, and capable of consulting experts and listening to them. That's how he concludes, for example, that having your head cut off and frozen when you die is just a form of corpse mutilation, with a zero point zero zero zero zero percent chance of someone recovering your mind from your freezerburned brain.

Like his subjects, Becker has a complicated relationship with science fiction. He, too, enjoys the imaginative flights of the genre, its delightful thought-experiments, its gnarly moral conundra. I love these too. They make for a fascinating and often useful lens for understanding and challenging our own relationship with technology and our very humanity. Ultimately, Becker is exploring the difference between reading sf because it makes you think in new ways, and reading sf as a kind of prophetic text, and – crucially – he's asserting that it's perfectly possible to enjoy this stuff without organizing your moral life around hypothetical heptillions of virtual people living in the year 25,000; or, indeed, having your head cut off and frozen.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/04/22/vinges-bastards/#cyberpunk-is-a-warning-not-a-suggestion

[beescake]

i am in love with your sollux i think

sollux love party :]

if you’re interested heres some of my personal fondness thoughts on him.. big warning for the mega long read ahead aye

as we alr know sollux's rejection of participation somewhat mirrors dave's rejection of heroism, but even without getting cooked to completion i still find sollux's character v compelling beyond the fourth wall

as someone who doesnt get a pinch of that Protagonist Sparkle to begin with, he can openly say he wants to leave anytime…. and unlike dave, he actually Can leave the scene anytime. but he can never be truly Free from the story via permanent character death like the other trolls.

his irrelevancy is indeed relevant - he’s there so u can point him out.

while his image is intended to be a relic of past internet subculture, his role is not only about hehehaha being a Chad or a 2000s cyberforum 2²chan haxxor ragequit gamebro.

his continued existence also happens to add a Bit to the overarching themes of homestuck! a Bit that gives him longer-lasting thematic relevance compared to the trolls who could’ve had more character potential but didnt get to survive beyond the main story.

the Bit in question:

his defiance contributes to the illusion of agency (treating characters = people with autonomy). he’s “aware” of it, and that recognition is worth noting enough to forcibly keep him alive as both reward and punishment.

considering how his personality & classpect is designed its definitely a very haha thing for hussie to do LOL. he’s made to be op asf so he's resigned to doing dirty work, gradually deteriorating along the way but never truly dying. as fans have mentioned before, him openly rejecting involvement after a while of grim tolerance is like if the sim u were controlling suddenly stopped, looked up and gave u the finger while u were step six into the walkthrough for Every Possible Sim Death Animation.

but since he’s just a sim… the more he hates it, the more you keep him around. if ur sim started complaining abt your whimsical household storyline you’d definitely keep that little fuck.

but yeah i like that sollux is just idling. the significance of his presence being that one dude who's always reliably Somewhere, root core Unchanged, no individual ambitions (possibly due to fear of consequence?), and design-wise: a staple representative product of his time.

compared to dirk's character, who has aged phenomenally well into the present (themes of control + AR + artificial intelligence, clearer exploration around navigating relationships/sexuality, infinite possibilities of self-splinterhood and trait inheritance), sollux's potential is really... contained. bitter. defeatist. limiting and frustrating in the way old tech is.

the world continues moving on to shinier, brighter, more advanced automated things - minimalist and metaverse or whatever but sollux is still here 🧍‍♂️ going woohoo redblue 3d. (tho personally i imagine his vibe similar to what the kids call cassette futurism on pinterest mixed w more grimy grunge insectoid influences eheh)

conceptually-speaking,

at the foundation of it all, the rapid pace of modern development was built off the understanding of ppl like sollux in the past, who were There actively at work while the dough was still beginning to rise

thats one of the cool things abt the idea of trolls preceding humans! the idea that trolls like sollux excelled back when lots of basic shit still needed to be discovered, building structures like networks and codes from scratch, and humans will eventually inherit and reinvent that knowledge in ways that become so optimized it makes the old manual effort seem archaic, slow, and labour-intensive.

but despite information/resources/shortcuts being more accessible now, much of the new highly-anticipated stuff released on trend still end up unfinished, inefficient, or expiring quickly due to cutting corners under severe capitalistic pressures

meanwhile, some of the old stuff frm past generations of thorough, exploratory and perfectionistic development still remains working, complete, and ever so sturdy.

those things continue to exist, just outside our periphery with either:

zero purpose left for modern needs (outdated/obsolete)

or

far too important to replace or destroy, bcs of its surprisingly essential and circumstantial usefulness in one niche specific area.

which are honestly? both points that sum up sollux pree well.

dramatic ending sorry. anw are u still on the fence or are u Sick abt him like me </3

[kotoneminako]

How They Paid For College

So Rich They Didn't Need Any Help: Kalim, Vil, Rook, Malleus, Lilia, Silver (thru Lilia), Idia, Ortho (thru Idia), Leona, Jamil, Cater, Sebek

On a Needs-Based Scholarship: Ruggie, Epel, Deuce Academic/Merit Scholarship: Azul, Riddle, Jade, Floyd, Vil, Ortho, Idia, Ace

Specialty Scholarship (Sports/Culinary/Tech/Etc.): Trey, Jack, Idia, Vil Disability Grant: Ortho

Interterrestrial Grant: Azul, Floyd, Jade

I wouldn't say Cater's on the same level as Vil & Kalim as rich, but considering his dad's a banker and they have enough money to move every year or two they could probably swing college funds

Idia didn't necessarily need a scholarship, but once he realized he qualified for a full-ride he wasn't about to say no

Ortho was allowed to go with Idia considering he's a special case and seems to count as his own autonomous being. Considering how Ortho's body is fully automated and needs Idia to frequently update all the intricate code, it counted as disability. Further supplementary tuition money came from Ortho's own academic abilities.

The Interterrestrial Grant is what supplies the Octavinelles and other sea-based students to attend classes with potions that give them human bodies

Malleus very well could have earned a scholarship, but money's no problem for him...and he didn't want to take from those who actually needed assistance in attending college

From what I know I think Sebek's dad is a dentist? So bro did not need assistance going to school

Kalim insisted on paying for Jamil's tuition, something he was pressured into accepting (and didn't necessarily mind anyway since it meant getting away from Kalim) Jamil crashed out when Kalim transferred to NRC

Ace is smart but doesn't apply himself....except when he realized just how much debt he'd be going into if he took out a loan and how he'd be paying that off until his fifties. Bro QUICKLY locked in.

[radiance1]

A new business started up in Metropolis by the name of MastersCo. Headed by man who simply goes by the name Masters who just happens to have a large lion with black fur, mane, and red eyes.

Now, as any sane person would think, Masters is the ultimate brain behind MastersCo's brilliant, brutal, ruthless, and utterly efficient business practices that let the seemingly nobody company rise to one of the largest in the city and the world at large.

A fact thag Lex Luthor is both impressed by, and utterly hates for the simple fact he is a targe of an unfortunate amount of those practices.

But you see, in reality, it is the lion that, according to Masters himself. Was an experiment that he managed to save from his brutal captors when he was being trafficked on accident one day and as such, was the reason he made his company in the first place. That is the brains of the opperation.

Who is the lion, truly? Well...

None other than Vlad Masters himself, of course!

Who just so happened to be on the wrong side of his own tech that was supposed to target none other than the hero Phantom. Turning him into a random animal and causing his powers to be temporarily out of control long enough for him to open a portal to another dimension entirely and push him through to get him out of the way and then some.

He never expected that he would be the victim of his scheme. He had Danny right where he wanted him and that, unfortunately, made him cocky. Cocky enough that Danny reversed the tides and it ended up being him to turn i to an animal and forced into another dimension.

He knew he should have had the portal activation be manual instead of automated.

In a last act of desperation, he tried to drag Danny along with him. He failed.

So then there he was, trapped in the form of a lion with powers that did not heed his wishes and, ubfortunately, about to be sold off to the highest bidder. He, of course, would not have gone down without a fight and managed to pull off an act that crashed the container he was teapped in with the casualty of death to those who tried to turn him into a profit. Forrtunately, he was then saved by a man too curious for his own good and had his wounds treated well enough.

Let it be known that Vlad Masters does not forget kindness shown to him, especially when it pertains to his very own life. So he restared VladCo, now known as MastersCo and turned it into an empire in return. Though it also doubled as a rescue for other 'animals like him' he didn't really mind nor care about that fact.

He dislikes Lex Luthor because the man called him a pet. Him a pet. The Vlad Masters, a mere pet!?

The utter gall of that man, truly.

He also holds a dislike for Superman as well, not to the extend of Lex Luthor, but the amount of property damage that man creares is astounding not to mention the fact he exposed Vlads rather... unique heartbeat situation. From nothing of good intent, he has since realized, but still.

He coukd have done without that, thank you very much.

[lactoseintolerentswag]

Donnie Tech Part 1/?

After many moons here are the promised observations of the cartoon shtick logic of Donnie's weapons for season one!! Will link a season two and movie version Eventually, but keep in mind I can't explain in depth how each bit of tech works, rather that I can pinpoint the functions for the visual bit. Keep in mind that Donnie's tech can pretty much do any ridiculous thing you can put your mind to, and that it can also backfire in any ridiculous way you can put your mind to.

Tech Bo:

Collapsible, can become a shorter version of itself easily stored

Shoot a grappling hook AND function as a zip line

Can form a rocket from either end (usually at the same time, resulting in the bo spinning)

Is equipped to be a fire extinguisher

Can shoot out lasers

Has a button that activates the "Shopping Cart Protocol" to lock the Turtle Tank if it goes outside a set perimeter

Top can turn into a rocket powered fist

Turn into a giant drill

Turn into a saw

Turn into a tranquilizer

Turn into a tennis ball shooter

Turn into a selfie stick

Top can turn into a disco ball of "multidimensional reflective orb neutralizer"

Battle Shell:

Has rotary engines (think jet turbine or computer fan) that help him fly around. He calls them "rotors" for short

Can transform into a seat so April can sit on his back

Can split up into a DJ set up in "music mode"

Jet Pack Shell:

His fastest mode of transportation

Not much is shown, but April had a significant difficulty controlling it

Spider Shell:

Has four arms with three fingers

Arms can turn into saws

Has a seemingly endless toolkit inside that includes basic things like hammers and wrenches, but also blowtorches

Goggles:

Has night vision

Can function as binoculars

Is able to summon is tech ("communicates with microwave transceiver with class c encryption protocols")

Read mystic energy signatures after adding the crystal they found in Draxum's lab

Gauntlet:

Has an app that can tap into every security camera in NY

Bug Slapper:

Has a green Mad Dogs sticker on the side

Compacts itself into a metal suitcase and then expand back into a vehicle

So far only uses Big Mama's webbing material as projectiles

Shelldon:

Began as an automated smart lair designed with the intent as a cleaning assistant

Has a "disposal unit" which unlocks several of Donnie's weapons such as: guns, pinchers, drills, and flamethrowers

Can carry at least two turtles (Mikey and Donnie)

Is nicknamed "Cyber Bishop" by Donnie

Uses surfer dude slang: “dude”, “gnarly”, “buzzkill”, “okey dokey”, “dawg”, “you beefed it”, “brohounds"

As a smart lair has clear favoritism towards Donnie until tampered with. As a drone they share more of a familial or pet like relationship, and Shelldon has room to sometimes poke at Donnie's faults as well

In conclusion there's not much to worry about breaking canon, the physics of our reality, or understanding complicated tech and science to write about Donnie's tech. He can do whatever he wants as long as it's silly, overly dramatic, and includes an unnecessary amount of purple guns. His tech bo is especially flexible with breaking the rules even before we get to his ninpo powers.

I'm keeping the Turtle Tank separate, because it also deserves its own post. Happy writing!

[probablyasocialecologist]

Earlier this week, OpenAI launched its new image generation feature, which is integrated directly into ChatGPT and allows users to input more complex instructions for editing and organizing the presentation of the output. The first big viral trend to come out of the new service was users turning photos of family vacations, historical events, and pop cultural images into animated stills in the style of Studio Ghibli films. (The whole thing was a bit of a throwback to the heady days of 2023 when you would see AI influencers sharing photos of famous figures in the style of Wes Anderson films or whatever.) ChatGPT let users “Ghibilify” the images, so we got Ghiblified Hawk Tuah girl, Ghiblified Elon Musk (obviously), and so on. The issue here should be obvious. I won’t pretend to know exactly how Miyazaki thinks about modern generative AI systems—the tool he was commenting on was a cruder prototype—though one might venture to argue that he’d feel even more strongly about tools that further automate human art with greater ease, and often drive it further into the uncanny valley. Regardless, the man on record with likely the strongest and bluntest disavowal of using AI tools for art, is now the same man whose notoriously painstakingly handcrafted art is being giddily automated by ChatGPT users for what amounts to a promotional campaign for a tech company that’s on the verge of being valued at $300 billion. Sam Altman, OpenAI’s CEO, not only participated, changing his X avatar to a ‘Ghiblified’ self portrait, but insisted that this was the plan all along. Which in turn raises the specter of copyright infringement. Speaking to TechCrunch, a copyright lawyer very diplomatically said that while it’s unlikely infringement to produce images in the style of a studio, it’s “entirely plausible” that OpenAI’s models were trained on millions of frames of Ghibli films. He noted that it’s still an open question whether or not that in fact violates current IP law, or constitutes fair use, as the tech companies argue. On that front, judges recently dealt tech companies a blow, ruling in favor of Thomson Reuters that a pre-ChatGPT AI system was creating images that competed with the original material, and thus was not in fact fair use. OpenAI and Google, meanwhile, are desperately trying to win this battle, appealing to the Trump administration directly, and going so far as to argue that if they’re not allowed to ingest copyrighted works into their training data, China will beat the US in AI. Now, if—and of course this is a whopping if—OpenAI had consulted Studio Ghibli and its artists on all this, if those artists had consented and say reached a licensing deal before the art and frames from their films were ingested into the training data (as is pretty apparently the case), then look, this would indeed be a bout of generally wholesome fun for everyone involved. Instead, it’s an insult.

[...]

OpenAI and the other AI giants are indeed eating away at the livelihoods and dignity of working artists, and this devouring, appropriating, and automation of the production of art, of culture, at a scale truly never seen before, should not be underestimated as a menace—and it is being experienced as such by working artists, right now.

27 March 2025

[mariacallous]

There are situations in which tariffs are a useful tool to address a trade deficit, or to protect key sectors of a country’s economy. Then there are situations where you accuse a bunch of penguins on an uninhabited island of currency manipulation. Guess which one we’re living in?

This is the takeaway of the manifold tariffs announced by President Donald Trump on Wednesday afternoon. In addition to the penguin-occupied Heard and McDonald Islands, the tariffs target the British Indian Ocean Territory, whose sole occupants live on a joint US-UK military base on Diego Garcia island. Yes, the United States is levying reciprocal tariffs against its own troops.

And then there are the tariffs against countries that have actual goods and services on which US consumers depend. China: 54 percent. Vietnam: 46 percent. Cambodia: 49 percent. South Korea: 25 percent. No corner of the US consumer economy will go untouched. Prices will rise. The stock market is spiraling. A recession looms. The tech industry will be turned upside down. Mark Cuban, noted billionaire, is encouraging people to stockpile consumables before it’s too late.

It’s reckless, it’s absurd, and it’s also everything Donald Trump said plainly he would do on the campaign trail. True, he didn’t telegraph how misguided the methodology would be—you can read about it more here, but suffice to say it’s thoroughly detached from the realities of international trade—but he loudly, repeatedly promised to tariff his way to glory.

The stated goal is to return manufacturing jobs to the United States, which is a bit like resurrecting the dodo. The US still manufactures plenty of goods; it’s second only to China in annual output, according to the World Bank. But many of the industry’s jobs have been replaced by automation, a bottle you can’t re-cork. And higher domestic labor costs mean US-made products will inherently be more expensive, a trade-off American consumers have consistently rejected. All of this was already true in Trump’s first term. It’s even more so now.

And let’s say a plurality of companies did decide to reshore or set up factories in the United States. The timeline for those decisions and implementation is measured in years, if not decades, and follow-through can be spotty. (Just ask Foxconn.) So what happens in the meantime?

The rationale has all the weight of a soap bubble. There isn’t a world where the US suddenly manufactures all the items the country has decided to target. There’s a 47 percent tariff on Madagascar now. Do you know why the US has a trade deficit with Madagascar? They produce vanilla; we don’t. Unless we’re suddenly setting up vanilla assembly lines in Ohio, that’s not changing.

But maybe Trump’s so-called Liberation Day is all just a master negotiating ploy. “Everybody sit back, take a deep breath. Don’t immediately retaliate. Let’s see where this goes,” said Treasury secretary Scott Bessent on CNN Wednesday. “Because if you retaliate, that’s how we get escalation.”

It’s an interesting tactic, to start a bar brawl and ask everyone not to punch back in case someone gets hurt. It’s not working. China has already vowed to retaliate; the EU suggested that it could as well. (New Zealand is officially chill.)

Set the economics of this aside for a moment, though. The insult on top of that looming injury is how sloppy this all is. It’s the same blunt-force destruction that DOGE has implemented within the US government, that Robert F. Kennedy Jr. has imposed on the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, now projected on a global scale. Yes, Elon Musk and DOGE have taken a blowtorch to federal agencies. But the tariffs are a helpful reminder that it's Trump who's fiddling while it all burns.

It’s the instinct to measure wins in units of pain and suffering. It’s an assumption that the only way to help yourself is to hurt other people. This is just what America is now.

The optimist’s case is that this is all a feint, that other countries will capitulate or at least make enough of a show of it that things will go back to normal. Seems unlikely. First of all, they’re already doing the opposite, all apologies to Bessent. But even if they weren’t, even if this is just posturing from the US, that posturing has consequences. Whatever equity the US has built up over the last century as a reputable trade partner has been largely wiped out by a businessman-president best known for his bankruptcies.

And then there’s the pessimist’s case, which also seems increasingly like the realist’s. The US is barreling toward a recession for no good reason, and dragging the world—and a few thousand penguins on remote Antarctic islands—down with it.

[xo-adeline]

HII, this is a small request for Idia (+ the beautiful oc’s Pan and Peyn if you would like to and feel comfortable writing about them) about movie night with reader or y/n or whatever you call it :D

Also, THANK YOU SO MUCH IF YOU ACCEPT THE REQUEST, I REALLY LIKE THE ACTUAL IGNIHYDE DOEM ITS SO COOL!! Anyways I’m gonna leave this here before I start yapping :P TY AGAIN IF YOU DO THIS REQUEST

"Oh my god, I feel it in the air..."

⋆°• ☁︎ - Request!

Feat. Idia Shroud, Pan Nikos, and Peyn Algos

AN: Thank you so much for the request!!<3 Pan and Peyn belong to the lovely @kokii-omii !

This was his perfect date, no doubt about it. Being able to stay in the comfort of his own room, all while being in a darkened place just in case something, mainly something pertaining to you and your like for cuddling during these kinda things, to which he could cover up the fact that he was embarrassed. Though at the end of the day, there would be nothing better in his eyes than to be in that sort of comfort with you. It was almost a sanction for him, not only the fact that it was in a place that he already trusted wholeheartedly, but also with a person that he had leaned to trust wholeheartedly. 

It was pretty early when you came over to his dorm, of course being slightly questioned by Ortho, Pan, and Peyn on your way in. In their defense, it wasn’t often that Idia ever invited you over. So imagine the shock when you brought up the fact you weren’t there just to make sure that he was actually alive, and not on another 48-hour event grind. The whole way to his room you were sure to be asked every question around the sun about what the housewarden could be planning. When you had finally made your way towards his room they tried to follow you in, but unluckily for them, the door had closed before they could. Curse the high-tech automated door that Idia had. 

The first change you noticed was how his room was set up. Normally, it was pretty lit up allowing him to be able to stay awake for whatever game he was playing, and the special lights making sure there was minimal glare on his computer always came in handy, but here they were, all turned off. The biggest surprise as you continued looking around was that his computer was also on a black screen, something that you don’t think you had even imagined was possible. There was, however, something else lighting up the room. A projector sitting on the side table by his bed. Facing towards the way it was pointed towards one of the only clear walls you could see the beginning sequence of your favorite movie broadcasted onto the wall. That’s when you also noticed the abundance of snacks sitting in a basket on his bed. 

The blue-haired boy was sitting on the bed already, his face slightly hidden by the collar of his hoodie, and he had moved slightly up. When you noticed him you couldn’t help but laugh, but also thank him as you sat down. Idia wasn’t known to be the most social person, nor somebody that could promise the world, no matter how much money he had. Yet somehow, no matter how many times people had wondered why you were dating somebody like him, it was moments like these that made you stay confident in the fact that you were with him. 

Safe to say that by the end of the night, the movie had still been playing in the background as the two of you had found comfort in each other and fallen asleep before the movie could even make it to the end. 

The vice-housewarden of Ignihyde on the other hand was something else entirely. When you had seen the text from him expressing the fact that there was something he needed you for at the dorm you had rushed over, thoughts spiraling. Was Ignihyde on fire? Did Ortho finally cave and use that super scary all-killing beam that Idia had installed for who knows what reason? The second you rushed in, panting slightly at your run over here, looking around for anything that was possibly either bleeding out or set ablaze. Only to be met with the smug smile of Pan. He grabbed your arm and started leading you over to his room, much to your confusion. Didn’t he text you in an emergency? Where was the fire, or even somebody that was minorly injured? 

If only you knew that it was just some ploy to get you over faster, he hadn’t seen you in weeks under all the work both he and you had been swapped with, and what faster way to get a good-hearted person somewhere than telling them there was some sort of emergency! When the two of you had made it back to his room you were a little surprised to see that he had actually cleaned it. Every other time you had even offered to make the trek over to the basically floating dorm he had always mentioned how messy his room was and that he never really had the time to work on clearing it up, let alone the time to fully clean it. Yet here you were, standing in the middle of the vice-house warden's cleaned and sparkling room, even slightly decorated with some small lights strung around his room, a small table with a few of each of your favorite snacks, and his laptop sitting on his bed. There was a certain unspoken effort in the way that even though everything he had to deal with during the days that he had taken the time to not only clean up the area he called home but also to decorate it and get it set up for something that would have taken even more time away from his work. He had a playlist of a bunch of movies that had come up in different conversations that you had mentioned in the past few weeks, even noting that he had been taking notes of this for weeks, the sentiment growing even more when thinking about all the effort he had put into this. During the time that you had known him Pan always had this mystery surrounding him. One that almost nobody could figure out about him, whether it was because nobody could get that close to him due to his busy schedule and responsibilities, or the fact that he held distance between everybody and what he was actually feeling and thinking. But yet here he was, slightly moving the distance from you away, letting you start to get a glimpse into who he really was and all the things he actually wanted to say. People would say you were crazy that since he cleaned his room it was a symbol, but that’s how you start to open up to another, letting them see the place where you keep everything, and letting them see it for all it is. 

When the two of you finally got around to getting comfortable, after the mini tour of his room, there was something behind each of the movies sprinkled throughout that he had picked. A mention of either finding themselves or being able to fully express themselves, and through the message there was something that you were gaining from it all. The fact that he was at least a little ready to share a part about himself that he had hidden from the world, but maybe it wasn’t so bad letting it slip to one person. 

Peyn, out of the three of them, was the most sane when it came to things like this. Yes, did he have issues when it came to actually expressing what he felt towards you? Absolutely. But there was also a sense of needing you around that overridden almost every part of the emotionally stunted personality he had. There was a sort of urgency when he had come over to your room, asking about a potential “get together” as he called it for just the two of you, no annoying other members of either of your friends or his dorm members.

His room was already cleaned as when he had normally invited you over, but this time no open textbooks for studying or anything of the sort, instead sitting on his desk was his laptop facing towards the bed instead of the chair as per normal, and sitting next to his bed on his vanity was a few types of snacks, ones that you had realized were types that you both enjoyed. He hadn’t mentioned the reason for the two of you going over to his room other than to just hang out, so the room being set up as if it was a movie date was a little bit of a shock, but nonetheless, a good one! 

When you had finally looked back over at him he was sitting on his bed, trying to find a movie that he thought the both of you would like watching, even if more times than not people had mentioned how petty he was, and how emotionally repressed he was, there was a sense of belonging behind it, a sense of need that he would only come to you for, which is the exact reason you had found yourself standing in this room, watching the crimson-hair boy get exceedingly frustrated when nothing looked good as he scrolled the options on whatever streaming service Idia, or Pan had already paid for. Peyn was known for the fact that he would run people down, and even start pointless arguments just to be in a conversation, but there was another side that somebody could only see when actually looking at who he was and not just what he played off. The person who wanted to be around people. Somebody who just wanted to be remembered, even if it was because he had confronted something stupid. 

When he had finally found something there was only a short amount of time before he had moved to pull you to sit down next to him, already engrossed in the movie that had just started playing on the screen in front of you two, and the best part about it was, it was peaceful. No other people from his dorm coming in to bother the two of you, no random comments from Epel or whoever happened to be there at the time, and nobody there to get Peyn into an argument about something. Just the two of you in peace, sitting together, and the memories would last a lifetime.

[collapsedsquid]

If you squint, you can make out versions of the same story — people bypassing the mainstream media to their own ends, the importance of social media in determining public perceptions of protest movements. There’s also an unmistakable tone shift from gently awestruck condescension to gently horrified condescension. (Disclosure: I was a reporter at the Times from 2016 to 2022, where I sometimes wrote about this subject.) In a far more significant sense, though, something is different. This week’s protests have been visible on social media, but their portrayals are fragmented, strange, and to people on the ground, often absurdly divorced from reality. If social media used to work for activists, or at least could,now it’s more effectively used against them. This sort of narrative role-swap isn’t new. For all the attention Twitter got as a factor in the 2011 Egyptian revolution — a story embraced by the company’s leadership — the story of social media’s role in Egypt’s politics since has mostly been one of suppression, surveillance, and harassment. An American version of this story has been taking shape for a while. The most significant factor isn’t really about tech — it’s that the current administration is proudly hostile to protest and has cited social-media posts as thin pretexts for no-process arrests and deportations. An administration that both routinely threatens activists with imprisonment, deportation, or worse is more than enough reason for activists to regroup in spaces where privacy can be maintained, not just traded for attention.

But social media really has been transformed, too, in ways both explicitly ideological and technical. Twitter, the platform people are most often referring to when they talk about these things, is owned by Elon Musk, who bought the platform with the explicit goal of disempowering its “woke” users and has more than accomplished his goal. Meta is still run by former BLM supporter Mark Zuckerberg, who more recently embraced Trump and pivoted to military contracting. TikTok, which is legally banned, is still online because the Trump administration promised not to enforce the law under vague and suggestive circumstances. Before its legal ban, TikTok’s rise set in motion industry trends that would alter social media’s relationship to activism in material ways. Meta, X, and Google reoriented their platforms around TikTok-style algorithmic video feeds, which relied less on users following one another and more on black-box per-user recommendations. For the platforms, this meant more engagement. For activists, it meant there were no longer coherent public conversations in which to intervene, against which to push back, or to join in any meaningful sense at all. Platforms that were once useful for understanding and following the news became venues for pure spectacular consumption. In some ways this was novel and strange, with hundreds of millions of people consuming individualized feeds determined by automated recommendations. In other ways, it was familiar, since it was a reversion to pre-social-media power dynamics. The platforms were no longer social, in any meaningful sense of the word, but rather centralized and exercising constant (algorithmic) editorial discretion. At least as much as the mainstream media that’s now been twice replaced, TikTok-ified social media rewards decontextualized spectacle. This can be useful for activists to bring attention, generally, to their causes — at least some of the large swing in support for Palestinians can surely be credited to the endless stream of horrific videos from Gaza, which are plenty powerful without further context and don’t require the authority of a trusted follow. More often, though, the lack of a common chronological feed — the crude social-media proxy for a “shared reality,” I guess — produces disorientation, uncertainty, and the ability to retreat completely into ideological safety, pure fantasy, or both.

[stevebattle]

"Automation" and friends (1979), by Bill Tolar, Fantasy Factory division, Creative Systems Group Inc., Atlanta, GA. Bill Tolar and Tom Zaken treat us to a surreal tour of the Creative Systems robot factory in episode 1513 of Mister Rogers' Neighbourhood, "Robots & Remotes" (1983).

"Three years ago Bill Tolar and his management/engineering team at Creative Systems Group Inc. in Atlanta produced a cylindrical object with a domed head and dangling arms that ran on a car battery. As soon as Tolar and his team added a two-way wireless radio, they were in the promotional robot business, with a product that resembled R2D2 – the charismatic beeping robot of Star Wars fame.

Since then, the company, which designs and manufactures imaginative interiors for retail stores, has sold 350 remote-controlled robots at prices ranging from $6,000 to $15,000. Although he has competitors, Tolar, 33, claims his company's Fantasy Factory division, with 1981 sales of $700,000, is "the largest promotional robot factory in the world." Coca-Cola has bought about 250 of the robots for its bottlers to use in mall appearances and similar events. Other customers include Arby's Inc., Kimberly-Clark Corp., and the National Pecan Marketing Council.

The robots are intended to create goodwill by chatting spontaneously with the clientele at trade shows, grand openings, supermarkets, hospitals, and sporting events. Such friendliness, Tolar claims, helps to circumvent the barrier people usually erect between themselves and corporate advertising. "The general public likes to think the robot is real," he says.

Creative Systems was an outgrowth of several earlier Tolar ventures. In high school he and a friend formed T&R Odd Jobs, a sign-painting and custom furniture business. As an engineering student at Georgia Tech, he joined his older brother to form Spatial Effects, a company that built lighting equipment for nightclubs."

– Chatty Robot Sparked Design Firm's Success, Inc.com, April 1, 1982.

[light-the-spark-of-dawn]

Bruce Wayne being the owner of the Daily Planet is just about the only reason I can believe Clark Kent would still have a career as a news reporter. And to be clear, this isn't a joke about his salary (which would probably be decent anyway since he's a senior reporter), but rather a commentary on the compromised integrity of American journalism.

Consider the news surrounding the United Healthcare shooting. The murder of a healthcare company CEO was immediately met with universal public support for the killer. Pretty much everyone in America despises the predatory healthcare system so much that they celebrated Brian Thompson's getting gunned down in the streets of Manhattan as being well-deserved, in spite of major news media trying to paint the bastard as an innocent victim and family man

Literally, the best defense of Thompson's character that they could come up with was that he was a father, husband, and a successful CEO who expanded the company. None of the articles mention that he had been separated from his wife for years. They conveniently leave out that under his leadership, UHC was criticized by the American Hospital Association and used AI to automate claim denials, forcing thousands of people to go without medical care.

The dead are lionized all the time. But this was a man whose life's work was built off the suffering of others and had virtually no good deeds to speak of. And yet the narrative that news reporting is trying to push is that the public joy at his murder is "disturbing" and "ghoulish" and even "un-American" (genuinely the most tone-deaf take I've seen thus far).

And now that Luigi Mangione has been arrested as a suspect in the case, the news have shifted to dissecting his whole life and laying it bare for people to see. He's a well-read and intelligent guy who graduated from an Ivy League college. He's a 26 year old tech bro from a wealthy family and was the valedictorian of his private school. He wrote a review of the Unabomber's book and gave it 4 stars. He had a traumatic back surgery and afterward became depressed and withdrawn. He wrote a manifesto condemning corporate America. He played Among Us (the fact that a major news company published a whole ass article about this is both hilarious and depressing).

Whether Mangione was the killer or not, the media is airing out any and all details of his personal history. But most of the articles I've seen aren't trying to analyze what would have led to an otherwise normal guy to assassinate a healthcare CEO. Because it's obvious to anyone who knows anything about American healthcare. Instead it's all talk about how he was "yelling at the press" and not about what he was yelling ("This is completely unjust and an insult to the intelligence of the American people and their lived experience").

90% of American media is owned by 6 conglomerates. It's in their best interest to diminish sympathy for someone like Mangione, who spoke out against the corporate robber barons. It's in their best interest to make people think he's a radical nutjob, a privileged college snob, a violent right-winger- anything that makes him less relatable to the people who are supporting him. And it's working.

Already we're seeing people across the political spectrum getting hung up on whether Mangione is a hero or not because his cousin is a Republican, his family was wealthy, he was college-educated, he's a cis straight white male, etc. It's worth noting that he hasn't even been extradited from Pennsylvania to New York yet, much less been put on trial or found guilty. And even if he was, his identity is not the point.

We must stop looking at the trees and take a step back to see that the entire forest was planted to prevent us from seeing the palace behind it.