#i clocked in too many hours to get a steam refund at this point and now i feel bad for not checking for that bullshit beforehand

[yoiku]

I am getting so tired of having to check everything new for AI shit. Sometimes its hard to notice or find out (if it's not just art) and so often I dont even think to check. A new game comes out and seems fun, you buy it and learn a few days later that the main dev/devs are apparently advocates for using AI for just about anything. I'm tired. I don't want to have to go through this shit so often.

[skadventuretime]

Golden Hour

Here is my piece for the @noragamibigbang! My artist partner @shinkimiope had such a lovely idea and art to match, so naturally I had to get all sentimental on it. I hope you enjoy!

A midi alarm rang out from a phone on the coffee table. It was perched so delicately on the corner, crowded out as it was by large textbooks and notebook viscera, that it was just a few rings from falling off the table altogether.

Hiyori burst from the bathroom with a toothbrush in one hand and her falling towel in the other. Flecks of toothpaste dotted her lips and her hair was only partly brushed, the half that wasn’t dripping water onto her living room floor. She stuck the toothbrush in her mouth to use that hand to catch her phone as it wobbled off the coffee table.

How is it three already? She turned a frantic eye to the microwave clock as if hoping it would give her a better time, but unfortunately, she was still going to be late.

Helping that study group last night was a bad idea.

Groaning, she hurried to a cabinet placed against the wall in her living room. It was more of a covered shelf, really, made of mismatched driftwood that's been carefully sanded and polished with something that made it glimmer like sunlight on the sea. On the sole high shelf was a shrine, just as carefully made, just as lovingly looked after. Not a speck of dust touched any part of it.

[Read the rest on AO3 or below the cut]

Hiyori clapped her hands together and focused on the shrine's god. Yato, I'm going to be late. Feel free to start setting up without me!

A faint breeze stirred her towel, as if a door had been left open and a summer wind had blown in.

I hear you loud and clear, Yato's voice answered distantly. His scent washed over her, wild and ancient and warm, and she could sense he was smiling through their temporary connection. I can carry things if you've brought too much. 

Hiyori exhales around her toothbrush. That’s okay, I’ll be fine. I just lost track of time.

You don’t need to get dressed up on my account.

Yato’s mental voice was teasing, gentle, but it still raised a blush to her face that made her glad he wasn’t there in person. It’s nothing like that, school work just kept me up. See you in twenty?

The wind brushed the back of her neck. See you then.

His presence faded away and so did the breeze. The air around the shrine seemed charged and clean, the space sanctified in the short time of their conversation. It was a testament to how much Yato's power as a god of fortune had grown and how many more people believed in him. She ran her finger over the familiar corner of the shrine one more time before stepping away to finish getting dressed. 

She put her hair up in a towel and returned her toothbrush to her bathroom cup before going to the closet. There, she grabbed a simple blouse and skirt and put them on. She added a pair of earrings gifted from Yukine, a bracelet from Daikoku (because he didn’t trust Kofuku to gift her something that wouldn’t cause misfortune), and a purse from Bishamon that was too practical to have been selected without Kazuma’s input. They all glittered in a vague, dreamlike way that anything loved by the gods does, at least to Hiyori’s half-ayakashi eyes. They were holy, and by extension, so was she.

“Late, late, late,” she muttered, scooping up the bento boxes she’d made the night before and heading out the door.

///

The sun felt great upon her skin for the approximately three seconds she was able to feel it before Yato slammed a floppy, wide brimmed hat over her head. "Yato," Hiyori spluttered, raising the brim of the hat so she could see again. "What are you doing?"

"You'll get sunburnt if you don't wear sun protection," he fretted, gesturing to a large parasol set up to shade a blanket laid out on the ground next to Suzuha's tree. "Come on, I'll unpack everything when we get there."

Hiyori hid a smile as she took the hat off. After all this time, Yato still liked to fuss over her. She set her basket down on the blanket and took a moment to listen to the wind sighing through the trees. She never knew Suzuha personally, but she liked to think she knew him a little by the way Yukine would smile when he talked about him, or through the way Yukine took such good care of plants in his stead. Hiyori turned to bring Yato into her thoughts when she caught him staring at her, causing the bottom to drop out of her stomach. Even now, his eyes could make her wonder if this is what it was like to be worshipped.

He spoke first. "Do you want anything to drink?" He pointed to a cooler beaded with condensation. "There's also tea, for later."

"I'm set for now." At his drooping shoulders, she amended, "Fine, I’ll have some tea."

He perked up immediately. "I have it steeping in Tamagahara, I'll be right back!" He blinked out of sight and back within the span of a breath. "Easier to keep hot there," he explained as he gently laid the tray on the blanket.

Fragrant green tea steamed in the cool air. Yato set out small, round mugs and poured her a cup. It was a delicate porcelain, something that sparkled with that same otherworldliness as her other gifts from gods.

Their fingers brushed as he passed it to her, and her heart stuttered. Yato didn’t seem to notice.

“So what’s new with you, Hiyori?” His eyes shone with excitement and curiosity, but there was something else there, too, an over-brightness like when you stub your toe and don’t want your friends to know how much something so small really hurt you. 

She took a small sip of tea to gather her thoughts. The last time she’d seen Yato in person was a little over a year and a half ago, although she’d spoken to him more frequently than that. When he’d first talked to her through the shrine, Hiyori had nearly punched a hole in the wall out of surprise, but it did allow them to speak every now and then. 

“I already told you about the apartment,” she began, grimacing at the memory of how long it took to convince her family and friends she’d be fine living without a roommate. 

“Yeah, it looks great!”

She froze. “You haven’t been in it yet.”

He looked a little abashed. “Well, you see, when we talk through the shrine, I can sort of, you know.” He waved his hand in a nervous flutter. “See through you, a little. Not actual sight, but more like impressions.” He closed his eyes, and his voice got quieter like he was recalling a special memory. “You get good sunlight there, and the air is clean, and you feel safe, right?”

Hiyori took a larger and no less scalding sip of tea. So that divine presence she felt every time she prayed was really..?

“Right, okay, yes. It’s a lovely apartment, Ame helped me move in and Yukine came to set up the furniture.” She smiled at the memory, at how stubbornly Yukine had insisted he could figure out the instructions on his own and how he tried to hide his excitement when she gave him a cheering chibi sticker for his trouble. 

“And school’s been going well?” 

“As well as it could be. If it isn’t exams I’m studying for, it’s practicals, and I’ve been up late most nights to make time for it all.” 

Yato raised a hand as though he wanted to touch her face and then thought better of it. “You have dark circles under your eyes.”

“Staying top of the class won’t happen by getting enough sleep,” Hiyori replied, mostly in jest.

Yato caught her smile and leaned a little closer, close enough that the smell of him wrapped around her like a familiar jacket. “You know what might help? Praying to me for good grades.” His eyes were sparkling with mischief.

“You haven’t told me you’re trying to put Tenjin out of work,” Hiyori laughed. 

“Oh yes, I’m cornering his market now.” Yato stood up and did something to his tracksuit to make it flourish like a cape. “Soon even Ebisu will be having to contend with my horde of worshippers.” 

An image of Yato in the middle of a swarming crowd of adoring businessmen was enough to make her snort the sip of tea she was sipping right out of her nose, which of course set Yato off, and before she knew it she was wheezing into her empty cup, eyes streaming and hand dripping from the tea that had splashed out. 

“All right, so I’m not the best with school or studies,” Yato said when he finally caught his breath. “I have learned something over the last few years, though.”

“Oh?” 

“How to help stubborn humans relax.”

Hiyori rolled her eyes. “Does it involve a trip to Capypa Land? Because as much fun as it is to watch you whimper over Capypas, I really need to—“

“No Capypa Land this time,” Yato cut in hastily. “Even though it would be a happypa trip for the whole family,” he muttered. “Yukine made ice cream and demanded that I share some with you. I also have a patented relaxation technique that will have you feeling better in no time!”

“Is that so,” Hiyori said, a smile melting over her lips. “Do I get a refund if it’s not to my liking?”

Yato had begun rummaging through a small cooler during this exchange and looked up to say, grinning, “I’ve never had an unsatisfied customer.”

It was all so easy, the banter, the laughter, the aching muscles in her face. No matter how often Hiyori got to see Yato, each visit felt like coming home.

“So what flavor did Yukine make?” she asked, peering over Yato’s shoulder as he opened up a few containers.

“Salted dark chocolate with optional caramel drizzle.” He put two scoops into a bowl and held up the caramel. “Would you like some?”

“Please,” Hiyori said, delighted. “I didn’t know Yukine took up cooking now, too!”

Yato smiled fondly. “One of Bishamon’s shinki offered to teach him after he was skulking around the kitchens one day. Picked up on it pretty fast, too.” He placed a spoon in the bowl and handed it to her, then put a few scoops in a bowl for himself with a judicious ladle of caramel sauce.

“Ready?” he asked Hiyori, holding up a spoonful of ice cream doused in sauce.

“Ready.” Her own spoon was carefully loaded with just a touch of caramel so she could enjoy the ice cream’s original flavor.

Yato touched their spoons together in a toast before taking his bite, and Hiyori paused to watch his reaction. It had been so long since she had gotten to experience anything new with him; part of her ached to witness every moment.

“It’s good?” she asked, watching his lips curve up around the spoon.

“That kid really goes all the way when he learns something new,” Yato said appreciatively. “Who knew tree care would turn into fixing electronics and now cooking.”

“He applies himself well.”

“You helped him get started,” Yato said around another mouthful of ice cream. “He still talks about how great it was when you tutored him.”

Hiyori hummed. “It was great to teach him. He’s a wonderful soul, he just needed a place to focus his mind.”

Yato popped a spoonful of pure caramel into his mouth. “That reminds me, how was that other wonderful soul of yours doing?”

Hiyori stiffened. “We haven’t seen each other in months. He was so...so...distasteful!” 

A dangerous gleam appeared in Yato’s eyes. “How distasteful?”

“Ami just needs to stop setting me up with people she meets at house parties,” Hiyori said. “She means well, but doesn’t have the best taste in men.”

“You’re very lucky I’m here, then, with my patented relaxation technique,” Yato said, putting down his empty bowl and scooting closer. 

“Relaxation technique?” she repeated, eyes narrowed. “Wasn’t the ice cream the relaxation?”

“Just sit back and relax! Tell me more about what happened with the worthless scum.” He knelt behind her and swept her hair off her shoulder. Goosebumps peppered her skin where he brushed it.

“So, you were saying?” he prompted, hands resting on her shoulders. The weight of them was reassuring.

“It was nothing,” she began, breath catching when he began to knead the muscles around her neck. “He brought me to a dive bar and tried to make me do shots with him, and then when it was pouring rain when I finally convinced him to leave, he told me to run with him five blocks so the rideshare would be cheaper.”

Yato’s hands paused. “Any chance I can get his name?”

“Yato, no,” Hiyori chided as he continued her massage. “You’ve been so good about not terrorizing people who’ve been minor inconveniences to me, I’d hate to see you ruin your record.” She was distracted; he was working away knots she hadn’t known she’d had. Maybe she really should look into moving her study sessions earlier so she’d stop falling asleep on her desk...

“It sounds like this one would be worth it,” he muttered, digging into her shoulders a little too roughly. 

“What about you? How has it been, being a god of fortune?” Hiyori asked after a few minutes of letting him drain the tension from her neck and shoulders.

His hands slipped away. “It’s been different,” he said, standing up and offering her a hand. “I think I’ve been so used to being on my own that being part of a group is strange.”

“Have there been problems with your neighbors again?” Hiyori asked. The last she’d heard, there had been a minor incident involving Takemikazuchi and an entire square kilometer of Tamagahara that had been leveled in his anger.

Yato started walking towards the cherry blossom tree. “No, I think that was his way of welcoming me. I thought that once I got what I wanted, everything would feel right.”

“And it doesn’t?” It had been so long since Yato opened up to her like this, showed up on a windowsill late at night and talked about what was on his mind. A warm feeling crept through her chest.

“No,” he said plainly, passing the wide trunk that showed the marks of Yukine’s care over the years. “Something is missing.”

She joined him under the boughs and inhaled. Fresh, clean, something a little like hope.

“I thought having more worshippers would make me happy,” he began, fingers trailing through some low hanging blossoms. “And they do, but it’s not what I thought it’d be.” 

“Oh?” 

“It’s lonelier than I imagined. Busier too; you have no idea how many people want to see me just to talk or vent. I always thought— well.” 

Yato paused by a string of cherry blossoms, running his fingers through the petals as if they were a lover’s hair. “I always thought it’d be like having more people like you around. People who understood me.” He pinched off a strand and held it close to his chest, hesitant, before offering it to her. “But deep down I knew you were one-of-a-kind.”

Hiyori marveled at the soft translucence of the petals in his hand, the faint otherworldly shine they seemed to have in his divine presence. It was like an ayakashi miasma in reverse, a bubble of light and goodness, and she watched it travel up her arm and float her hair up on an invisible wind when she accepted the flowers.

“How long have you had this effect?” Hiyori said, turning her hand from side to side and admiring the richer colors and heady scent.

“Effect?” Yato murmured, eyes on the blossoms in her hand.

“The way everything sort of glows around you.”

He blinked at this and looked at the ground. “It’s sort of complicated.”

This sharpened her interest. “Complicated how? Did you have to perform some ritual? Does it only happen to gods with hafuri? Is it because you’re more popular these days?”

Yato’s face had sunk lower and lower into his scarf as she spoke. He mumbled something into it, still not looking at her.

Since Hiyori was well-versed in his moods, she simply crouched so that she was directly in his field of view. “Come again?”

“It’s because you’re my most devout believer,” he said, a light blush coloring his cheeks. “It’s like the opposite of a miasma. It can only happen when extreme faith persists.” He finally meets her eyes. “It means our ties are strong.”

Hiyori glimpsed an arc of woven sunlight twisting like infinity around them at his words, like something seen from the corner of your eyes.

“It’s my greatest treasure,” he confessed.

The world spun taffy thick. “So even though others believe in you now, I’m somehow..?”

“None of them are even close to this,” he said. “The shrine in your apartment is more home to me than any of the ones built in major cities.”

It was a lot to take in. Hiyori was used to being the backbone in her friendships, used to providing a solid, trustworthy space in which others could gain their footing. But being exalted to a god?

“I still think about what would’ve happened if I’d listened to Tenjin,” Yato continued, brushing a hand through the ties’ afterimage. “I am who I am because you’ve helped me become it. If our ties had been cut…” His hand fell to his side. “I might not be here right now, or I’d be some monster doing Father’s bidding.”

“I wouldn’t have made it out of plenty of situations without you, either,” Hiyori said slowly. “Isn’t that the nature of knowing someone? Being changed by them?”

Yato thought about this for a moment, the wind soft and gentle as it ruffled his hair. “Ever since I was small, Father had always told me that I was always in the right, always the one in control. That I could do whatever I wanted and others would adjust. I think it was supposed to make me feel powerful, but I didn’t want power. I wanted to belong.” Something like surrender was in his eyes when he said, “You were the first person to make me feel like I belonged in a very long time.”

It was too much. All of her pent up feelings — the fear, the hope, the confusion — from her high school days welled up at once, shattered from the amber in which she’d crystallized it once Yato defeated father and brought Yukine home.

“I’m glad,” she finally said when she was sure her voice wouldn’t shake. “Because you do belong, you and Yukine and Kofuku and Daikoku and —“

“With you?” Yato’s voice was so quiet it was like he hadn’t meant to say that aloud.

“Of course with me,” Hiyori said, feeling brave. “The same way I belong with you. That’s how this works. We’re already tied, right? Let’s just be tied. For however long that lasts.”

“For however long that lasts,” Yato murmured. It sounded like a vow.

The afternoon sun had taken on that tired golden edge that meant it was closer to sunset than noon. Hiyori’s heart was still beating a little too fast, her mind dizzy with implications that felt too raw to look at now.

“Thank you for coming today,” Yato said at last. “I missed you.”

“Now that I know I have the most important shrine in my apartment, I’m sure we can figure out ways to talk more,” Hiyori said, and was rewarded with another blush.

“May I take you home? There are a lot of leftovers to carry and Kofuku threatened to murder me if I came back with any.”

Hiyori laughed and started back towards their blanket. “Of course.”

[gta-5-cheats]

Inside ‘Fin,’ the elite human/AI assistant

New Post has been published on http://secondcovers.com/inside-fin-the-elite-human-ai-assistant-2/

Inside ‘Fin,’ the elite human/AI assistant

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“I have FOMO for the future”, says Sam Lessin. That’s why his startup, Fin, is working backwards from a far-off tech utopia. One day, computers with some human help will answer our every beck and call. Today, Lessin is teaming them up. Every day, Fin gets smarter.

For $1 a minute, 24/7, Fin gets your digital chores done. Message, email or speak a request and a real person will snap into action, augmented by a machine intelligence toolkit built from all the tasks Fin’s tackled to date. Sure, it handles research, scheduling, commerce and customer support calls. But it also learns your habits, negotiates for you, and conquers complex jobs like creating a website.

Now after two years and funding from top investors, including Kleiner Perkins, Fin is opening up to more customers and press. “We’ve really intentionally talked to no one,” says Lessin, a former Facebook VP who sold it his file sharing startup Drop.io.

That’s a vastly different approach than most boisterous AI startups have taken. “There’s been this crazy hype cycle,” Lessin tells me. “‘Everything’s a bot. Bots are awesome. Everything’s an assistant.’ All these things fucking suck.”

Converting money into time

Fin was determined not to suck, even if that meant staying quiet. Lessin and co-founder Andrew Kortina have tinkered and tested Fin since mid-2015. “I had done Venmo,” Kortina says, downplaying his co-founder role and its sale to PayPal, “and was then doing nothing. I heard Sam was also doing nothing and that piqued my interest, as he’s an old friend.”

Brainstorming led them to the thesis that “the internet is broken as an information machine,” Kortina tells me. They saw a greater destiny than entertainment, distraction and big enterprise. So in Fin’s first incarnation, the duo swapped neglected memos and to-do lists, and tried to find what they could get done for each other. Plenty had been falling through the cracks.

“I’m okay about doing menial things for colleagues but I’ll just let all that stuff in my own life slip,” Kortina admits. “I wouldn’t go to the dentist for years. I didn’t have health insurance after college for 10 years. My credit score was terrible because I had some bill I wouldn’t figure out how to pay.”

Most people have similarly boring tasks they loathe spending time dealing with. You could call the cable company to fight a price hike or research restaurants and hunt for a reservation. So could Fin. And thanks to Uber we’ve grown accustomed to being able to trade money for that time back, sidestepping slow public transportation or looking for parking when we’re in a rush.

Fin co-founders Sam Lessin (left) and Andrew Kortina (right) in front of the flag of Finland

While it’s easy to imagine Fin as merely a first-world luxury for the lazy, and it’s great at that, it’s also a productivity tool that can let people achieve more of what only they can do. Kortina talks about Fin as a way to “instantly offload” chores.

Even if you could power through a task faster than Fin could second-hand and keep the dollars, “It’s not just the cost of doing that thing yourself. It’s the context switching,” Kortina explains. “It’s so hard for me to get into a really good state of concentration and flow and creativity, and when I get into that state I don’t want to be interrupted.”

Reverse-engineering science fiction

Fin’s far from the only personal assistant startup trying to save you time, but many of the others fail due to hubris, relying too heavily on their own code as the answer to every question. “The mistake is looking at machine learning and thinking we’re so close to this general intelligence,” Lessin insists. Replacing humans outright isn’t the answer. “The future is people helping people.”

Competitors that can go AI-only are restricted to narrow sets of tasks, like x.ai for meeting scheduling. Traditional and virtual assistant services can be inefficient. Facebook’s M assistant also uses a combo of humans and AI but is free and hasn’t been opened up to the public.

One service similar to Fin called GoButler was forced to pivot to solely automated assistance, and eventually sold as scrap to Amazon. Fin’s most remaining direct competitor is Magic. It’s cheaper at $0.59 per minute but only takes requests via text message. Lessin moonlights as a partner for Slow Ventures, which participated in Magic’s $12 million 2015 Series A, which raises some concerns about conflicts of interest he wouldn’t comment on. [Update: More examples of competitors were added to this paragraph.]

But wait, isn’t AI supposed to take everyone’s jobs? Lessin envisions a new industrial revolution instead. He cites cobblers making a few shoes while waiting around the shop for customers, struggling to match fluctuating demand. But with steam and electricity “you had a new source of power. It’s not like power stopped work. You had humans doing what they were good at, tech doing what tech was good at, and you had way more shoes.”

Shop On SecondCovers

With Fin, though, Lessin’s vision involves a team of round-the-clock operators equipped with AI and processes for similar tasks can snap into action even after-hours, rather than a full-time dedicated assistant being “paid for showing up being on YouTube” and then going off the job, Lessin says. Even if it’s expensive at $1 per effective minute of work, Fin is exceedingly convenient, and you don’t pay for down time.

To use Fin, you just pop open its minimalist black-and-white desktop site or iOS app, then type, speak or upload a photo of your request. If you’re unsure what you could ask for, there’s an anonymized feed of real examples from other users to spark your imagination.

“We can execute any task that doesn’t require hands in your city,” says Lessin, noting how hard it is for some startups to get local scale and capacity nailed down. “I have incredible respect for Instacart.” He also points out that “there are types of specialized knowledge we can’t currently do for you. Ask us some PhD physics problem and it will either take a long time or we won’t do it.”

Usually, though, you get messaged back almost immediately by a Fin human who collects any necessary details and gets started. I felt an instantaneous sense of relief upon outsourcing my responsibilities. Along the way, your task gets updated with progress and requests for secondary decisions. When possible, it just pulls things like addresses and airplane seat preferences from your onboarding survey, and payment information or online passwords from the app’s Vault. You get a detailed statement of exactly how Fin used your time and how much you owe.

“Our job is to mix the best tool or person for the job in a way to deliver an experience that’s better than you can get from working with a single isolated individual, or a piece of pure software,” Kortina declares.

That’s where the name “Fin” comes in. “Like ‘the end’ in French films,” Lessin reveals. “This is the interface and the ways things will work in 50 or 100 years.” While technology will get more and more adept at a wider range of tasks, he imagines that in the end, it will still be humans sending requests to computer-human teams.

The unevenly distributed future

The hardest part of using Fin is getting over the mental hurdle of relinquishing control while paying for what you could do yourself.

“I think that’s the real competitor,” says Lessin. Even factoring in what your time’s worth and the context switching overhead, Fin can produce some serious sticker shock. That’s accentuated by our idealized predictions that underestimate the time required to do things. “How long does it take to book movie tickets?” Lessin jokes. “30 seconds? No!”

Fin’s team

I was charged $80 to deal with having a mis-shipped iPhone X refunded and a new one bought and sent. While I was thankful not to have to deal with customer support, it was some pricey peace of mind. Getting a holiday restaurant reservation originally cost me $150, which is completely absurd even if it took several loops to find the right time and get me to sign a credit card payment form for the prix fixe dinner.

Luckily, I was refunded that $150 after submitting a complaint through the app, which is easy to do through Fin’s thumbs up/down buttons on each request. “Most really heavy users escalate / ask about something every month or two,” Lessin admits. Fin uses internal benchmarking tools to track if certain assistants take too long on a task or routinely do too much research in a category. Still, Fin sometimes goes overboard so users shouldn’t be shy about contesting any charges that seem ridiculous. You can sign-up through this link for TechCrunch readers to get a discount on your first tasks.

Fin initially launched in beta with a $120 per month subscription fee. But Kortina gripes that “all we were learning is how people could arbitrage Fin to do way more than $120 worth of service.” He seems to be having bad acid flashbacks to before Venmo started charging a 3 percent credit card fee in 2012, when people would just send money back and forth to hit minimum spending limit or earn points while Venmo ate the fees.

With the switch to per-minute pricing, “We’ve set ourselves up for the long haul by really focusing on unit economics,” says Lessin, in contrast to many on-demand startups. That surely delights Fin’s investors John Doerr at KPCB, Sameer Gandhi at Accel, and Saar Gur at CRV. While Lessin won’t reveal exactly how much Fin has raised, he calls them “good capital partners,” noting the startup has enough cash to “be able to do this for a long time.” Fin now has 20 employees on the technical side, while it’s climbing toward 100 when you include its full-time operators.

Not subsidizing the service is a healthy choice for Fin, but that means “Unfortunately it’s not at a price point that everyone on Earth can afford.” Whether through economies of scale, AI advancement, or human training, Fin may need to bring the price down if it wants widespread adoption. “The future is already here” sci-fi author William Gibson once said, “it’s just not very evenly distributed.”

The premium price tag begets premium service that makes Siri and her cohorts feel like mere calculators in comparison. “The message is you should demand a lot more out of assistant services than cooking timers and Google search lookups,” Lessin concludes. In an era when technology is designed to soak up the maximum amount of your time, Fin lets you buy it back. We’ll each have to decide how much it’s worth.