#pattern recognition software

[intsofttech]

Intsoft Tech machine vision application, silicon steel core vision inspection system

[bees-bees-fear]

Leliana is voiced by an actual French actress, and is just speaking: wow this sounds so fake

Characters have actual real proportions, instead of hero proportions: wow this looks so weird

Characters converse like people with facets, instead of archetypes: wow this sounds so bad

Writers interact like actual human beings who make art and are inspired by feedback: wow this is so unprofessional

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

i hate how tech bros treat ai like fucking nfts bc like. advanced pattern recognition algorithms are actually Very Useful and Very Cool. they’re used in medicine for instance! but technbros just want it to be the new NFT. and now people are hyper paranoid about any ai even though like it’s Useful and Fine in a lot of contexts just very harmful in those that it doesn’t work in (and I’m not even talking about art, art is not the worst example of this- people tried to make ai therapists that ended up encouraging people with eating disorders to relapse, and there’s all those ai generated foraging books that give advice that’s incredibly inaccurate and tells you to eat poisonous shit like art isn't even The main problem with the nft-isation of AI it’s just the most obvious)

[fellthemarvelous]

These next few days are about to be wild as fuck.

The Force will be with you, always.

[magical-grrrl-mavis]

Fun fact!

You can stop being upset by loss memes if you simply understand that it's a really really silly thing to be upset by.

[outerspace-iiinnerspace]

petty fandom complaint of the day:

not a fan of stuff that's like "murderbot can't read! it just has some good ocr software" because what is the functional difference between reading and ocr? for a computer being? or like, any being?

sure, ocr has limitations, but most of those are limitations that apply to humans as well. there are people out there who, for a variety of reasons, can't do captchas or read cursive or whatever else.

now, if you wanna say "murderbot can't read and it doesn't have any ocr capability either" i'm still not that interested because i think that's really unlikely, but it's a much better starting premise.

[notesfortherapy]

Im a "at least one sudoku a day" kind of autistic.

[rocinantescoffeestop]

i have a new obsession: supreme court case recordings

This one's about the TikTok ban. transcript and audio included through link

I have so many thoughts right now, and I need to write an essay or even just a word dump about it, but in the meantime here's a screenshot that had my brain's pattern recognition software scream "Is this the Red Scare 2.0??" from the back row—

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from Smithsonian Magazine:

An ambitious humpback whale is making waves in the marine biology community after researchers discovered he undertook an incredible 8,106-mile swim across the globe, likely to be the longest distance traveled for the species on record.

This odyssey was “truly impressive and unusual, even for this highly migratory species,” Ekaterina Kalashnikova, a whale researcher at the Bazaruto Center for Scientific Studies and lead author of a study published Wednesday in Royal Society Open Science that tracked the whale’s movements, tells Helen Briggs of the BBC.

Humpback whales are by no means sedentary. According to the study, they “undertake one of the longest known seasonal migrations of all mammals.” However, their migration routes tend to go “between latitudes,” traversing north and south to seek out feeding grounds in colder climates and breeding grounds near the tropics. Rarely do groups of humpback whales go from east to west, preventing them from encroaching on other whales’ territories.

That made it all the more surprising when Kalashnikova and her fellow researchers determined that the same humpback whale was spotted off the Pacific coast of Colombia in 2013 and 2017 before reaching Zanzibar, in the Indian Ocean, in 2022. The whale’s exact route between these endpoints is unknown, but he might have dipped south to Antarctica before tracking back up Africa’s eastern coast, which would extend his route even longer than 8,106 miles.

The discovery was enabled by a citizen science website called Happywhale.com that allows professional biologists and casual whale watchers alike to upload photographs of a whale’s tale, also known as its fluke. Distinct marks, patterns, pigments and scars all contribute to making each whale’s fluke one of a kind. Modified facial recognition software using artificial intelligence matches up distinct features that form a “flukeprint,” as distinct and recognizable as a human fingerprint or face.

[tangentiallly]

One way to spot patterns is to show AI models millions of labelled examples. This method requires humans to painstakingly label all this data so they can be analysed by computers. Without them, the algorithms that underpin self-driving cars or facial recognition remain blind. They cannot learn patterns.

The algorithms built in this way now augment or stand in for human judgement in areas as varied as medicine, criminal justice, social welfare and mortgage and loan decisions. Generative AI, the latest iteration of AI software, can create words, code and images. This has transformed them into creative assistants, helping teachers, financial advisers, lawyers, artists and programmers to co-create original works.

To build AI, Silicon Valley’s most illustrious companies are fighting over the limited talent of computer scientists in their backyard, paying hundreds of thousands of dollars to a newly minted Ph.D. But to train and deploy them using real-world data, these same companies have turned to the likes of Sama, and their veritable armies of low-wage workers with basic digital literacy, but no stable employment.

Sama isn’t the only service of its kind globally. Start-ups such as Scale AI, Appen, Hive Micro, iMerit and Mighty AI (now owned by Uber), and more traditional IT companies such as Accenture and Wipro are all part of this growing industry estimated to be worth $17bn by 2030.

Because of the sheer volume of data that AI companies need to be labelled, most start-ups outsource their services to lower-income countries where hundreds of workers like Ian and Benja are paid to sift and interpret data that trains AI systems.

Displaced Syrian doctors train medical software that helps diagnose prostate cancer in Britain. Out-of-work college graduates in recession-hit Venezuela categorize fashion products for e-commerce sites. Impoverished women in Kolkata’s Metiabruz, a poor Muslim neighbourhood, have labelled voice clips for Amazon’s Echo speaker. Their work couches a badly kept secret about so-called artificial intelligence systems – that the technology does not ‘learn’ independently, and it needs humans, millions of them, to power it. Data workers are the invaluable human links in the global AI supply chain.

This workforce is largely fragmented, and made up of the most precarious workers in society: disadvantaged youth, women with dependents, minorities, migrants and refugees. The stated goal of AI companies and the outsourcers they work with is to include these communities in the digital revolution, giving them stable and ethical employment despite their precarity. Yet, as I came to discover, data workers are as precarious as factory workers, their labour is largely ghost work and they remain an undervalued bedrock of the AI industry.

As this community emerges from the shadows, journalists and academics are beginning to understand how these globally dispersed workers impact our daily lives: the wildly popular content generated by AI chatbots like ChatGPT, the content we scroll through on TikTok, Instagram and YouTube, the items we browse when shopping online, the vehicles we drive, even the food we eat, it’s all sorted, labelled and categorized with the help of data workers.

Milagros Miceli, an Argentinian researcher based in Berlin, studies the ethnography of data work in the developing world. When she started out, she couldn’t find anything about the lived experience of AI labourers, nothing about who these people actually were and what their work was like. ‘As a sociologist, I felt it was a big gap,’ she says. ‘There are few who are putting a face to those people: who are they and how do they do their jobs, what do their work practices involve? And what are the labour conditions that they are subject to?’

Miceli was right – it was hard to find a company that would allow me access to its data labourers with minimal interference. Secrecy is often written into their contracts in the form of non-disclosure agreements that forbid direct contact with clients and public disclosure of clients’ names. This is usually imposed by clients rather than the outsourcing companies. For instance, Facebook-owner Meta, who is a client of Sama, asks workers to sign a non-disclosure agreement. Often, workers may not even know who their client is, what type of algorithmic system they are working on, or what their counterparts in other parts of the world are paid for the same job.

The arrangements of a company like Sama – low wages, secrecy, extraction of labour from vulnerable communities – is veered towards inequality. After all, this is ultimately affordable labour. Providing employment to minorities and slum youth may be empowering and uplifting to a point, but these workers are also comparatively inexpensive, with almost no relative bargaining power, leverage or resources to rebel.

Even the objective of data-labelling work felt extractive: it trains AI systems, which will eventually replace the very humans doing the training. But of the dozens of workers I spoke to over the course of two years, not one was aware of the implications of training their replacements, that they were being paid to hasten their own obsolescence.

— Madhumita Murgia, Code Dependent: Living in the Shadow of AI

[halloweenreaper]

I like the saying, "Anything worth doing is worth doing poorly." Especially when it comes to creative things. While AI is fine in some regards. I'll admit that I used AI to write cover letters when I was applying for jobs because those are the absolute bane of my existence. And even then, I had to check it over and edit what it wrote. But with things like creative writing and art, there's just naturally a human element to it that a mechine can't replicate. Art comes from who you are and how you see the world. It's an expression of you. AI can't do that. And besides that, what we have isn't really AI. It's machine learning. Pattern recognition. It can note common elements and remix them into something that on the surface looks like art, but there's no deeper meaning. There's no happy little accidents.

I think we get so caught up in this world where there's always some end goal, and everything seems to demand 110% out of you all the time. But that's not what art is. You can half ass art, and it's still art. It doesn't even need to be profound. In fact, art is a lot like being alive. It's never going to be perfect. And that's fine. For me, I don't write to make something perfect or profound. The highest level of praise I can get is seeing someone react to my work. Laughing. Crying. Anything.

We've used art to say "we were here" since humans started humaning. And handing that off to something as cold as a pattern recognition software just feels disingenuous. I'd rather see a handprint smacked against a wall than some cold amalgamation spit out by something that will never understand what it made. Half ass your art. Be bad at it. It's not about being the best anyway. It's about saying you were here. You were alive. That you had thoughts and feelings. And that's worth something. Even if it is done poorly.

[misskattylashes]

Okay inspired by @thetruthisfictional post about Milex patterns. I thought I would share some observations I have made in my autistic pattern seeking brain.

I am only looking at the post EYCTE period to the present day, and not everything is in chronological order.

Louise

Louise started to appear around the same time Miles decided to move back to the UK permanently. Rather than Alex split with Taylor, there are rumours of him cheating on her with Louise, creating a reason for him to want to leave LA. It is also a convenient narrative because Miles and Taylor were friends, so the reason that Miles and Alex can’t be seen together is because Miles doesn’t like Louise because of what she did to his friend Taylor.

Which means Alex can come home to London, without it looking obvious that he is following Miles.

Plothole – the reason for his return is so  Louise can split her time between London and Paris to pursue her ‘successful music career’. The truth has since emerged that Louise lives in Paris and Alex lives in London and Louise has no career to speak of.

Louise’s use of social media

A genuine social media account will post day to day happenings, even not every day. Shared songs, interesting meals, something work related. Louise’s posting only ever coincided with events happening around AM. Go and check her account sometime, see how much she posted around the summer of 2022 leading up to the release of The Car. Note also how she has posted every September 21 since 2021 which also coincides with the day she was officially announced in September 2018.

Songwriting

Since EYCTE Alex has not used one female pronoun in a romantic sense. Miles barely has either, nothing to the degree of the previous two albums.

Alex’s image

This is so carefully protected. Most recent photographs were taken several days or even weeks before. Alex is usually in his ‘costume’. One of the most questionable being the recent Eurostar ones. He was sitting there so obviously being ‘Alex Turner’ but the only people who recognise him are a couple of fans who happen to have professional equipment. I suspect there are all sorts of clever wizardry and facial recognition software going on in Meta that stops unfamiliar photos of Alex being published. Before you say ‘How can they do that?’ think about times you may have uploaded a song only for the sound to immediately disappear or you get a message with the list of territories it can’t be played in. This happens in seconds so the technology is there.

The train photos fitted a convenient narrative. Just after Alex was seen coming home from Paris, Louise is seen in the Caribbean with her family. We then get a recent of Alex in NY. Louise comes home from the Caribbean to Paris, but then makes sure to tell us she is going to NY, we then get the pap walk etc.

Why are we never allowed to see Alex walking along Bethnal Green High Street or in the pub with Miles? I think this is less to do with record company pressure and more to do with Alex wanting to keep his private life private.

Miles’ use of social media

Last year when AM were in the UK, I would notice that days Alex was on a break, we would hear nothing from Miles. You might get one official post about OMB that was clearly posted from his social media team. But stories would be empty.

Once Alex went to the US in late August, many a night we were treated to tipsy Miles chatting to the TV, or filming little Maxie getting up to mischief in the house. Soon as Alex came home it stopped.

Earlier this year Miles started the late night posting again and filming Maxie. Lo and behold a few days later we get pics of Alex in NY. Soon as he comes home, it stops again.

Another thing I have noticed. When Miles posts videos he always puts the photographer's name. But he occasionally only puts an 👀. These will always appear when Alex isn’t seen elsewhere.

There are probably many more but I will probably do a part 2.

[diceramblesaboutocs]

Undirected Connection || Idia x Reader || Prologue

chapter 1 Author’s note: This is more of a premise or prologue. I haven’t ever really posted any of my writing officially and I wanted to do something light first. So I hope to give this more “chapters”. I want this to be more soft and friendship oriented but hey, we will see where it goes. Also the mandatory: English isn't my native language so...

Rating: Teen Pairing: Idia/Reader Words: 905 Tags: GenderNeutral Reader - Reader is from Ignihyde - Cat and mouse chase dynamic.

Summary:  "Dear students of NRC, Ever wanted your favorite actress or actor to wish you good night? Do you need a little encouragement for the finals? Or maybe you want them to say those sweet "well, well, well"s with their seductive voice to spice up your evening?

I, Litae, will humbly grant your prayer and wishes. Give me your desired voice (an actor, a character (must be a public figure)) and guidelines what would you want them to say only to you

2 thaumarks, a personal greeting for you

5 thaumarks, 30s clip.

NO NSFW content.

Payment will be handled via the Cave of Wonders app."

"You can do it, Idia! You'll be fine! Good night and sleep well tonight!"

The familiar voice of Idia's favorite idol echoed in the dim room as the call ended. This has been going on for a month now. Azul had cornered him in the board game clubroom after the session. He started to offer the most ridiculous things for Idia so that he would help him locate some mysterious entrepreneur. This entrepreneur known as Litae had taken the NRC campus by storm in just a week. And the Octavinelle housewarden smelled an opportunity for a great investment in that. A promise of financial gain.

Idia first had offered to create a voice generation software for him, but Azul declined. He wanted the real deal. Why create a rival when you can blackmail the original creator to join his team. Or as the merman had put it: Offer a safe working environment and stable income. Idia wanted to escape the situation, but seemed that the only way to do that was to agree to help his clubmate.

He started his research. It started from small testing, paying this Litae to give him a greeting or a small clip. To see if he could use a voice recognition software to find patterns, a recurring pitch or to see if the voice was generated by a computer. All coming back almost negative. There were some small recurring patterns, but not enough to pinpoint anyone exactly. And the voice wasn't AI generated either. Or if it was, it was a highly sophisticated model.

He asked Litae to voice different actors. Then fictional characters and lastly… one of his favorite characters from Sled over Heels. Why not indulge himself a bit? To have a high quality personalized greeting from his favorite character would make his heart flutter. And it did. A little bit of greetings there and a little bit of encouragement here. Like before the public speech he had at the cultural fair. (Not that he was going to speak in public, he made a high end text to speech software to avoid that.)

Then came the calls. Litae started offering short calls, improvised calls for the students. For Idia, it was downhill from there… He was addicted. ***

2 months ago

It all started when it was announced that the Star Rogue: Remake Galaxy would be exclusive on the newly launched Wonderlink console. [Y/N] had been a long time fan of the game series and finally it was getting the recognition that it deserved. But there was a problem… A financial one. They could buy the game, sure, but they didn't have the console. They needed a plan on how to get money. Something easy. Something so low effort that they could do it while keeping up with their studies.

A couple of days had passed. During a break they had a conversation with their fellow dormmates about the wake up call tracks. They remembered those from old radio shows. The voice actors acted as their characters and recorded a set of different versions of wake up notifications. People ate them all up, trying to get hold of those radio show tracks. They would dissect the lines and share them online. And that's where the idea began in [Y/N]'s head.

Like a strike of fate, it was perfect. Outer appearance of [Y/N] was that of a normal human, but they had the blood of a changeling fae in them. It wasn't much, but enough. The influence from a few generations past would act up sometimes. Whenever magic was flowing strong around them, their appearance changed randomly if not deliberately focused on anything. They had a special medication for it. That they didn't give themselves gills without thinking and suffocated. That was a rare thing to begin with but better safe than sorry. After all, in a magic school with all the students blasting spells, it could get hectic. Stronger the magic, the bigger the change could be.

On its own it was more of a parlor trick, to change one's hair color, or transform their teeth sharp… Or change their voice. They researched the best way to handle the transfer of money and got an old smartphone from the lost and found. Being an Ignihyde student, they knew the lengths to which the digital footprint could be tracked. They couldn't be too cautious. They didn't want others to know about this idea, about them doing it or that they had such a gift from their ancestors. Who would trust a descendant of a changeling after all?

After two weeks of planning, the plan went into motion. They made a separate email account on their "work" phone and sent an advert to the whole student body of NRC. ***

"Dear students of NRC,

Ever wanted your favorite actress or actor to wish you good night?

Do you need a little encouragement for the finals? Or maybe you want them to say those sweet "well, well, well"s with their seductive voice to spice up your evening?

I, Litae, will humbly grant your prayer and wishes.

Give me your desired voice (an actor, a character (must be a public figure)) and guidelines what would you want them to say only to you

2 thaumarks, a personal greeting for you

5 thaumarks, 30s clip.

NO NSFW content.

Payment will be handled via the Cave of Wonders app."

[enbydust]

Robotgirl who wants to be clicker trained but her pattern recognition software is a little too good so it doesn’t take much “training” at all

[haru-dipthong]

Rote learning grammar is like hardcoding if-statements into an LLM. Why bother writing arbirary rules when you have such amazing pattern recognition software under the hood?

I think the answer is that people don't trust that their brain can function like an LLM. They only trust their conscious processes because they're the only processes they're conscious of.

[feminismisstillahatemovement]

A few years ago, during one of California’s steadily worsening wildfire seasons, Nat Friedman’s family home burned down. A few months after that, Friedman was in Covid-19 lockdown in the Bay Area, both freaked out and bored. Like many a middle-aged dad, he turned for healing and guidance to ancient Rome. While some of us were watching Tiger King and playing with our kids’ Legos, he read books about the empire and helped his daughter make paper models of Roman villas. Instead of sourdough, he learned to bake Panis Quadratus, a Roman loaf pictured in some of the frescoes found in Pompeii. During sleepless pandemic nights, he spent hours trawling the internet for more Rome stuff. That’s how he arrived at the Herculaneum papyri, a fork in the road that led him toward further obsession. He recalls exclaiming: “How the hell has no one ever told me about this?”

The Herculaneum papyri are a collection of scrolls whose status among classicists approaches the mythical. The scrolls were buried inside an Italian countryside villa by the same volcanic eruption in 79 A.D. that froze Pompeii in time. To date, only about 800 have been recovered from the small portion of the villa that’s been excavated. But it’s thought that the villa, which historians believe belonged to Julius Caesar’s prosperous father-in-law, had a huge library that could contain thousands or even tens of thousands more. Such a haul would represent the largest collection of ancient texts ever discovered, and the conventional wisdom among scholars is that it would multiply our supply of ancient Greek and Roman poetry, plays and philosophy by manyfold. High on their wish lists are works by the likes of Aeschylus, Sappho and Sophocles, but some say it’s easy to imagine fresh revelations about the earliest years of Christianity.

“Some of these texts could completely rewrite the history of key periods of the ancient world,” says Robert Fowler, a classicist and the chair of the Herculaneum Society, a charity that tries to raise awareness of the scrolls and the villa site. “This is the society from which the modern Western world is descended.”

The reason we don’t know exactly what’s in the Herculaneum papyri is, y’know, volcano. The scrolls were preserved by the voluminous amount of superhot mud and debris that surrounded them, but the knock-on effects of Mount Vesuvius charred them beyond recognition. The ones that have been excavated look like leftover logs in a doused campfire. People have spent hundreds of years trying to unroll them—sometimes carefully, sometimes not. And the scrolls are brittle. Even the most meticulous attempts at unrolling have tended to end badly, with them crumbling into ashy pieces.

In recent years, efforts have been made to create high-resolution, 3D scans of the scrolls’ interiors, the idea being to unspool them virtually. This work, though, has often been more tantalizing than revelatory. Scholars have been able to glimpse only snippets of the scrolls’ innards and hints of ink on the papyrus. Some experts have sworn they could see letters in the scans, but consensus proved elusive, and scanning the entire cache is logistically difficult and prohibitively expensive for all but the deepest-pocketed patrons. Anything on the order of words or paragraphs has long remained a mystery.

But Friedman wasn’t your average Rome-loving dad. He was the chief executive officer of GitHub Inc., the massive software development platform that Microsoft Corp. acquired in 2018. Within GitHub, Friedman had been developing one of the first coding assistants powered by artificial intelligence, and he’d seen the rising power of AI firsthand. He had a hunch that AI algorithms might be able to find patterns in the scroll images that humans had missed.

After studying the problem for some time and ingratiating himself with the classics community, Friedman, who’s left GitHub to become an AI-focused investor, decided to start a contest. Last year he launched the Vesuvius Challenge, offering $1 million in prizes to people who could develop AI software capable of reading four passages from a single scroll. “Maybe there was obvious stuff no one had tried,” he recalls thinking. “My life has validated this notion again and again.”

As the months ticked by, it became clear that Friedman’s hunch was a good one. Contestants from around the world, many of them twentysomethings with computer science backgrounds, developed new techniques for taking the 3D scans and flattening them into more readable sheets. Some appeared to find letters, then words. They swapped messages about their work and progress on a Discord chat, as the often much older classicists sometimes looked on in hopeful awe and sometimes slagged off the amateur historians.

On Feb. 5, Friedman and his academic partner Brent Seales, a computer science professor and scroll expert, plan to reveal that a group of contestants has delivered transcriptions of many more than four passages from one of the scrolls. While it’s early to draw any sweeping conclusions from this bit of work, Friedman says he’s confident that the same techniques will deliver far more of the scrolls’ contents. “My goal,” he says, “is to unlock all of them.”

Before Mount Vesuvius erupted, the town of Herculaneum sat at the edge of the Gulf of Naples, the sort of getaway wealthy Romans used to relax and think. Unlike Pompeii, which took a direct hit from the Vesuvian lava flow, Herculaneum was buried gradually by waves of ash, pumice and gases. Although the process was anything but gentle, most inhabitants had time to escape, and much of the town was left intact under the hardening igneous rock. Farmers first rediscovered the town in the 18th century, when some well-diggers found marble statues in the ground. In 1750 one of them collided with the marble floor of the villa thought to belong to Caesar’s father-in-law, Senator Lucius Calpurnius Piso Caesoninus, known to historians today as Piso.

During this time, the first excavators who dug tunnels into the villa to map it were mostly after more obviously valuable artifacts, like the statues, paintings and recognizable household objects. Initially, people who ran across the scrolls, some of which were scattered across the colorful floor mosaics, thought they were just logs and threw them on a fire. Eventually, though, somebody noticed the logs were often found in what appeared to be libraries or reading rooms, and realized they were burnt papyrus. Anyone who tried to open one, however, found it crumbling in their hands.

Terrible things happened to the scrolls in the many decades that followed. The scientif-ish attempts to loosen the pages included pouring mercury on them (don’t do that) and wafting a combination of gases over them (ditto). Some of the scrolls have been sliced in half, scooped out and generally abused in ways that still make historians weep. The person who came the closest in this period was Antonio Piaggio, a priest. In the late 1700s he built a wooden rack that pulled silken threads attached to the edge of the scrolls and could be adjusted with a simple mechanism to unfurl the document ever so gently, at a rate of 1 inch per day. Improbably, it sort of worked; the contraption opened some scrolls, though it tended to damage them or outright tear them into pieces. In later centuries, teams organized by other European powers, including one assembled by Napoleon, pieced together torn bits of mostly illegible text here and there.

Today the villa remains mostly buried, unexcavated and off-limits even to the experts. Most of what’s been found there and proven legible has been attributed to Philodemus, an Epicurean philosopher and poet, leading historians to hope there’s a much bigger main library buried elsewhere on-site. A wealthy, educated man like Piso would have had the classics of the day along with more modern works of history, law and philosophy, the thinking goes. “I do believe there’s a much bigger library there,” says Richard Janko, a University of Michigan classical studies professor who’s spent painstaking hours assembling scroll fragments by hand, like a jigsaw puzzle. “I see no reason to think it should not still be there and preserved in the same way.” Even an ordinary citizen from that time could have collections of tens of thousands of scrolls, Janko says. Piso is known to have corresponded often with the Roman statesman Cicero, and the apostle Paul had passed through the region a couple of decades before Vesuvius erupted. There could be writings tied to his visit that comment on Jesus and Christianity. “We have about 800 scrolls from the villa today,” Janko says. “There could be thousands or tens of thousands more.”

In the modern era, the great pioneer of the scrolls is Brent Seales, a computer science professor at the University of Kentucky. For the past 20 years he’s used advanced medical imaging technology designed for CT scans and ultrasounds to analyze unreadable old texts. For most of that time he’s made the Herculaneum papyri his primary quest. “I had to,” he says. “No one else was working on it, and no one really thought it was even possible.”

Progress was slow. Seales built software that could theoretically take the scans of a coiled scroll and unroll it virtually, but it wasn’t prepared to handle a real Herculaneum scroll when he put it to the test in 2009. “The complexity of what we saw broke all of my software,” he says. “The layers inside the scroll were not uniform. They were all tangled and mashed together, and my software could not follow them reliably.”

By 2016 he and his students had managed to read the Ein Gedi scroll, a charred ancient Hebrew text, by programming their specialized software to detect changes in density between the burnt manuscript and the burnt ink layered onto it. The software made the letters light up against a darker background. Seales’ team had high hopes to apply this technique to the Herculaneum papyri, but those were written with a different, carbon-based ink that their imaging gear couldn’t illuminate in the same way.

Over the past few years, Seales has begun experimenting with AI. He and his team have scanned the scrolls with more powerful imaging machines, examined portions of the papyrus where ink was visible and trained algorithms on what those patterns looked like. The hope was that the AI would start picking up on details that the human eye missed and could apply what it learned to more obfuscated scroll chunks. This approach proved fruitful, though it remained a battle of inches. Seales’ technology uncovered bits and pieces of the scrolls, but they were mostly unreadable. He needed another breakthrough.

Friedman set up Google alerts for Seales and the papyri in 2020, while still early in his Rome obsession. After a year passed with no news, he started watching YouTube videos of Seales discussing the underlying challenges. Among other things, he needed money. By 2022, Friedman was convinced he could help. He invited Seales out to California for an event where Silicon Valley types get together and share big ideas. Seales gave a short presentation on the scrolls to the group, but no one bit. “I felt very, very guilty about this and embarrassed because he’d come out to California, and California had failed him,” Friedman says.

On a whim, Friedman proposed the idea of a contest to Seales. He said he’d put up some of his own money to fund it, and his investing partner Daniel Gross offered to match it.

Seales says he was mindful of the trade-offs. The Herculaneum papyri had turned into his life’s work, and he wanted to be the one to decode them. More than a few of his students had also poured time and energy into the project and planned to publish papers about their efforts. Now, suddenly, a couple of rich guys from Silicon Valley were barging into their territory and suggesting that internet randos could deliver the breakthroughs that had eluded the experts.

More than glory, though, Seales really just hoped the scrolls would be read, and he agreed to hear Friedman out and help design the AI contest. They kicked off the Vesuvius Challenge last year on the Ides of March. Friedman announced the contest on the platform we fondly remember as Twitter, and many of his tech friends agreed to pledge their money toward the effort while a cohort of budding papyrologists began to dig into the task at hand. After a couple of days, Friedman had amassed enough money to offer $1 million in prizes, along with some extra money to throw at some of the more time-intensive basics.

Friedman hired people online to gather the existing scroll imagery, catalog it and create software tools that made it easier to chop the scrolls into segments and to flatten the images out into something that was readable on a computer screen. After finding a handful of people who were particularly good at this, he made them full members of his scroll contest team, paying them $40 an hour. His hobby was turning into a lifestyle.

The initial splash of attention helped open new doors. Seales had lobbied Italian and British collectors for years to scan his first scrolls. Suddenly the Italians were now offering up two new scrolls for scanning to provide more AI training data. With Friedman’s backing, a team set to work building precision-fitting, 3D-printed cases to protect the new scrolls on their private jet flight from Italy to a particle accelerator in England. There they were scanned for three days straight at a cost of about $70,000.

Seeing the imaging process in action drives home both the magic and difficulty inherent in this quest. One of the scroll remnants placed in the scanner, for example, wasn’t much bigger than a fat finger. It was peppered by high-energy X-rays, much like a human going through a CT scan, except the resulting images were delivered in extremely high resolution. (For the real nerds: about 8 micrometers.) These images were virtually carved into a mass of tiny slices too numerous for a person to count. Along each slice, the scanner picked up infinitesimal changes in density and thickness. Software was then used to unroll and flatten out the slices, and the resulting images looked recognizably like sheets of papyrus, the writing on them hidden.

The files generated by this process are so large and difficult to deal with on a regular computer that Friedman couldn’t throw a whole scroll at most would-be contest winners. To be eligible for the $700,000 grand prize, contestants would have until the end of 2023 to read just four passages of at least 140 characters of contiguous text. Along the way, smaller prizes ranging from $1,000 to $100,000 would be awarded for various milestones, such as the first to read letters in a scroll or to build software tools capable of smoothing the image processing. With a nod to his open-source roots, Friedman insisted these prizes could be won only if the contestants agreed to show the world how they did it.

Luke Farritor was hooked from the start. Farritor—a bouncy 22-year-old Nebraskan undergraduate who often exclaims, “Oh, my goodness!”—heard Friedman describe the contest on a podcast in March. “I think there’s a 50% chance that someone will encounter this opportunity, get the data and get nerd-sniped by it, and we’ll solve it this year,” Friedman said on the show. Farritor thought, “That could be me.”

The early months were a slog of splotchy images. Then Casey Handmer, an Australian mathematician, physicist and polymath, scored a point for humankind by beating the computers to the first major breakthrough. Handmer took a few stabs at writing scroll-reading code, but he soon concluded he might have better luck if he just stared at the images for a really long time. Eventually he began to notice what he and the other contestants have come to call “crackle,” a faint pattern of cracks and lines on the page that resembles what you might see in the mud of a dried-out lakebed. To Handmer’s eyes, the crackle seemed to have the shape of Greek letters and the blobs and strokes that accompany handwritten ink. He says he believes it to be dried-out ink that’s lifted up from the surface of the page.

The crackle discovery led Handmer to try identifying clips of letters in one scroll image. In the spirit of the contest, he posted his findings to the Vesuvius Challenge’s Discord channel in June. At the time, Farritor was a summer intern at SpaceX. He was in the break room sipping a Diet Coke when he saw the post, and his initial disbelief didn’t last long. Over the next month he began hunting for crackle in the other image files: one letter here, another couple there. Most of the letters were invisible to the human eye, but 1% or 2% had the crackle. Armed with those few letters, he trained a model to recognize hidden ink, revealing a few more letters. Then Farritor added those letters to the model’s training data and ran it again and again and again. The model starts with something only a human can see—the crackle pattern—then learns to see ink we can’t.

Unlike today’s large-language AI models, which gobble up data, Farritor’s model was able to get by with crumbs. For each 64-pixel-by-64-pixel square of the image, it was merely asking, is there ink here or not? And it helped that the output was known: Greek letters, squared along the right angles of the cross-hatched papyrus fibers.

In early August, Farritor received an opportunity to put his software to the test. He’d returned to Nebraska to finish out the summer and found himself at a house party with friends when a new, crackle-rich image popped up in the contest’s Discord channel. As the people around him danced and drank, Farritor hopped on his phone, connected remotely to his dorm computer, threw the image into his machine-learning system, then put his phone away. “An hour later, I drive all my drunk friends home, and then I’m walking out of the parking garage, and I take my phone out not expecting to see anything,” he says. “But when I open it up, there’s three Greek letters on the screen.”

Around 2 a.m., Farritor texted his mom and then Friedman and the other contestants about what he’d found, fighting back tears of joy. “That was the moment where I was like, ‘Oh, my goodness, this is actually going to work. We’re going to read the scrolls.’”

Soon enough, Farritor found 10 letters and won $40,000 for one of the contest’s progress prizes. The classicists reviewed his work and said he’d found the Greek word for “purple.”

Farritor continued to train his machine-learning model on crackle data and to post his progress on Discord and Twitter. The discoveries he and Handmer made also set off a new wave of enthusiasm among contestants, and some began to employ similar techniques. In the latter part of 2023, Farritor formed an alliance with two other contestants, Youssef Nader and Julian Schilliger, in which they agreed to combine their technology and share any prize money.

In the end, the Vesuvius Challenge received 18 entries for its grand prize. Some submissions were ho-hum, but a handful showed that Friedman’s gamble had paid off. The scroll images that were once ambiguous blobs now had entire paragraphs of letters lighting up across them. The AI systems had brought the past to life. “It’s a situation that you practically never encounter as a classicist,” says Tobias Reinhardt, a professor of ancient philosophy and Latin literature at the University of Oxford. “You mostly look at texts that have been looked at by someone before. The idea that you are reading a text that was last unrolled on someone’s desk 1,900 years ago is unbelievable.”

A group of classicists reviewed all the entries and did, in fact, deem Farritor’s team the winners. They were able to stitch together more than a dozen columns of text with entire paragraphs all over their entry. Still translating, the scholars believe the text to be another work by Philodemus, one centered on the pleasures of music and food and their effects on the senses. “Peering at and beginning to transcribe the first reasonably legible scans of this brand-new ancient book was an extraordinarily emotional experience,” says Janko, one of the reviewers. While these passages aren’t particularly revelatory about ancient Rome, most classics scholars have their hopes for what might be next.

There’s a chance that the villa is tapped out—that there are no more libraries of thousands of scrolls waiting to be discovered—or that the rest have nothing mind-blowing to offer. Then again, there’s the chance they contain valuable lessons for the modern world.

That world, of course, includes Ercolano, the modern town of about 50,000 built on top of ancient Herculaneum. More than a few residents own property and buildings atop the villa site. “They would have to kick people out of Ercolano and destroy everything to uncover the ancient city,” says Federica Nicolardi, a papyrologist at the University of Naples Federico II.

Barring a mass relocation, Friedman is working to refine what he’s got. There’s plenty left to do; the first contest yielded about 5% of one scroll. A new set of contestants, he says, might be able to reach 85%. He also wants to fund the creation of more automated systems that can speed the processes of scanning and digital smoothing. He’s now one of the few living souls who’s roamed the villa tunnels, and he says he’s also contemplating buying scanners that can be placed right at the villa and used in parallel to scan tons of scrolls per day. “Even if there’s just one dialogue of Aristotle or a beautiful lost Homeric poem or a dispatch from a Roman general about this Jesus Christ guy who’s roaming around,” he says, “all you need is one of those for the whole thing to be more than worth it.”