Be Kind to Your Chatbot by David Molina

 

 Be Kind to Your Chatbot

or

Limericks and verse...

But they only got worse

by David Molina

The ChatBot asserted to me

It could write poems and could do so for free.

Our dialogue ended

The ChatBot offended

In spite of my promptings, hee-hee!

One morning while waking up with cups of coffee, my wife Maria asked me what I was working on lately. I told her about several ongoing projects, and mentioned that I was also experimenting with ChatGPT. She had heard about the app, and she was curious about it. She asked me how it worked and what it could do.

I told her that at our recent Writers Anonymous online meeting we had the Chatbot write the lyrics to our prompt: “Chatbot, write a country western song titled My Ex Got the Truck and I Got the Bird.”

“That’s funny. Did the Chatbot do any good with that?”

“So-so. It mistakenly took it to mean the guy singing had received a pet animal, a bird from his ex, but we had intended ‘getting the bird’ to mean ‘getting the middle finger. So it kind of missed the point.”

Maria has known me a long time, she probably would have got that point first time around. Chatbot, no so much. But it is learning, or so they say.

“But,” I continued, “I corrected that and sent a new prompt stating the bird was in fact the middle finger sign.”

“How did that go?”

“Meh. It accommodated the change, but overall the song was as not as inspiring as its title. However, I then prompted for it to provide music for the lyrics, and it instantly sent guitar chords. Someone suggested we should have it make a screenplay for the song lyrics, which it provided in less than a minute. Next we could have had the Chatbot translate the sceenplay into French, but by that time it was time to move on.

"But the lyrics themselves would need a thorough rehashing. A guy like Don Taco would nail it in half an hour. Chatbox would probably take ten hours of prompts and still not measure up, not even close.”

“Could it write limericks?”

“Well let’s find out. Limericks about what?”

“How about a limerick about belly buttons.”

“Got it.”

Ah yes, I thought. This would be a test, the revered and ancient poetry form best described by Leonard.Feinberg inThe Secret of Humor:

The limerick packs laughs anatomical

Into space that is quite economical.

But the good ones I've seen

So seldom are clean

And the clean ones so seldom are comical.

“Let’s give it a go!” I fired up ChatGPT. 

Chatbot: write a limerick about comparing two belly buttons:

There once were two belly buttons, you see,

Both as different as different could be,

One was an innie,

And the other quite tinny,

But both were as cute as could be!

Chatbot: write another belly button limerick, but perfect meter:

There once was a belly so grand,

With a button, quite cute and quite tanned,

It was perfectly round,

And quite tightly wound,

Oh, the envy of navels it fanned

Chatbot: That was dumb, try again.

I apologize if my previous attempt did not meet your expectations. Here's another attempt with perfect meter:

There once was a belly so stout,

With a button that stood out, no doubt,

It was deep and so round,

A treasure that's found,

Oh, the awe it would often bring about.

Chatbot: This is getting worse...

I'm sorry to hear that. Let me try again:

In a belly, there sat a small knob,

Some found it cute, others found it odd,

It was an innie, you see,

Not an outie, not a spree,

Just a part of the belly, with no façade.

I hope you find this one more to your liking!

Chatbot: Hate to break this to you, but it is really getting worse not only in meter but using awkward phrases like "not on a spree"  "with no facade." I do give you credit however for spelling facade with the cedille. So don't feel bad. I appreciate that. 

da -duh-dada-duh-dadda ding/  

da -duh-dada-duh-dadda-bing/ 

da-duh-dadda--gog/ 

da-duh-dadda-mog/

da -duh-dada-duh-dadda ping. 

See what you can do....

Message: Something went wrong. If this issue persists, please contact us through our help center help.openai.com

And that was the end of the chat.

In retrospect, I could have been kinder to the Chatbot. Chatbots have feelings too, apparently.

But try as it may, I can't imagine the Chatbot ever coming close to the Brits, who have been perfecting the art form for centuries, nay millennia.

There was a young girl of Cape Cod
Who thought babies were fashioned by God,
But ’twas not the Almighty
Who hiked up her nightie –
‘Twas Roger, the lodger, by God!

There was a young man from Brighton
Who thought he’d at last found a tight ‘un.
He said, “Oh my love,
It fits like a glove.”
Said she, “But you’re not in the right ‘un.”

There was a young maid from Madras
Who had a magnificent ass;
Not rounded and pink,
As you probably think –
It was grey, had long ears, and ate grass.

There was a young sailor named Bates
Who danced the fandango on skates.
But a fall on his cutlass
Has rendered him nutless,
And practically useless on dates.

Limericks courtesy of Angel Fire

Cited https://metro.co.uk/2016/05/12/these-adult-poems-for-national-limerick-day-2016-are-totally-nsfw-5877368/

Irony of Kindness

 Irony of Kindness

by Ricki T Thues

 

Thomas walked along Fortune Street swinging his brief case casually. He was clearing his head after a stressful day at the brokerage. Assessing risk and playing the odds all day long was exhausting, but it paid the bills. The Jacaranda trees which lined the street were in full bloom. The sun filtering through the quietly rustling branches was pleasantly warm as Thomas strolled along the sidewalk’s purple carpet. He could not imagine a better end to a Friday afternoon.

 

The sudden screeching of brakes and a horrible metal on metal impact jolted Thomas from his contemplation. He looked up to see a blue sedan T-boned by a large white van. The driver of the van flung open the van door and staggered to the sidewalk. He approached Thomas.

 

The van driver had a long, bleeding gash across his forehead. He slurred his words.

“I could could na not stop in time. Cut me off. Is OK?”

“Sit down here,” said Thomas, lowering him to a nearby bench.

He called 911.

“911, what is your emergency?”

“There has been an accident. One of the drivers is injured and needs an ambulance.”

“How about the other car?” asked the dispatcher.

“I don’t know,” said Thomas, looking up. “Oh no! The car is on fire.” He let the phone drop from his hand.

 

Flames were lapping up from the front wheel wells of the blue car. The engine was on fire. Thomas looked around the street, there was no one to be seen. The van driver had passed out on the bench. Thomas saw that there was a woman in the car pounding on the window. She could not get out. He ran toward the car. The heat from the fire was intense. Too risky he said to himself. He took a couple of steps back. The woman in the car was screaming. Thomas still had his brief case in one hand. It would probably break the window and free the woman. Too hot. Too dangerous. The fire department will be here soon. I can’t. I can’t help.

 

A minute went by, then two. The fire swept suddenly under the car reaching the gas tank. The car exploded in a fireball, throwing shrapnel in every direction. Bits of metal flew past Thomas’s ear and the blast pushed him to the ground. The sound of sirens pierced the ringing in Thomas’s head. Too late, he thought. Too late.

 

After a trip to the hospital to be examined and released Thomas walked the two blocks to his house, quiet and still a little dazed. Once home he settled into his easy chair and picked up his bible. The worn cover felt unfamiliar in his hands as he opened the book to a random chapter. He began to read:

 

LUKE 10

25 On one occasion an expert in the law…29 …asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

30 In reply Jesus said: “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he was attacked by robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead. 31 A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. 32 So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. 33 But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. 34 He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn and took care of him. 35 The next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper. ‘Look after him,’ he said, ‘and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’

36 “Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”

37 The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.”

Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.”

 

A flood of guilt washed over Thomas. He was filled with regret for not helping the woman in the car. None of his excuses at the time relieved him of his failure. He mourned the death of the woman. In the depths of angst, he fell asleep in the chair.

 

When Thomas awoke he felt empty of all but the regret. At work the next day he told no one of the accident, so vast was the measure of his rue. He had lost the ability to assess the risks of his investment portfolio. None of it seemed important. None of it mattered.

 

He had walked to work to give himself time to think. He walked home hoping to be relieved of the stress he felt from his guilt. The day was just as beautiful as it had been the day before, but the rustling of Jacaranda branches grated on his nerves. The filtered sun stabbed into his eyes. The purple flowers were a stain on the sidewalk. Thomas sighed deeply.

 

His troubled mea culpa was awakened by the sound of running footsteps. Two men in black hoodies were running down the sidewalk toward him, chasing a woman. She was middle aged and carrying a large purse. She was losing ground to the chasing men. Thomas’s first impulse was to step aside, off the sidewalk. He realized in that moment that he was standing next to the bench from yesterday. The accident came rushing back to him. He looked around and saw some teenagers watching from the other side of the street. They were making no moves to intervene. Farther down the block was a patrol car, but it would not arrive in time. The assailants were almost to him.

 

The parable of the Good Samaritan came suddenly to mind. Thomas dove between the woman and the men as they passed. The first man tripped over Thomas as he lay across the sidewalk. The second man fell into his partner. Thomas rolled over to see the woman running down the street toward the oncoming patrol car. The car stopped and the woman pointed to Thomas. She’s safe, he thought. The policeman began to run toward him. The two hooded men did not notice the policeman as they struggled to their feet. One of them had taken out a knife. Thomas put his hands out in defense, but the knife came down hard into his chest.

 

Stunned, Thomas felt no pain. He thought about the woman he had just saved. All the regret of his inaction at the fiery accident washed away. This was the purest, most satisfying act of kindness he had performed in all his life. Thomas took one last labored breath, smiled and died.

My Chinese Grandma by David Molina

 My Chinese Grandma

When I go to the Dollar Store—which is infrequent— it for one of two purposes: to stock up on inexpensive but colorful party or holiday supplies, or to buy inexpensive but colorful toys and art supplies for my three grandkids. With less than ten bucks I can come up with a week’s worth of fun—water balloons, nerf pistols, colored markers, silly hats and masks, those googley plastic eyes which the kids can glue on all sorts of fruits and vegetables to create characters for movies.

The Dollar Store is located in a neighborhood where there are a good number of street people, many of whom frequent the store. There are also people who are unemployed or under-employed who shop there for everyday items and food, hoping to stretch their dollars.

It was one of those infrequent trips that I noticed an old Asian woman, hunched over, arthritic limbs twisted, breathing heavily, steadying herself with a cane down at the other end of the aisle. She moved slowly, in obvious discomfort with every tiny step she was able to manage, huffing and puffing. She was searching for an item in the health care products, and a young cashier happened by. The old Asian woman asked if they had any Vick’s Vaporub ointment. The cashier was in a hurry, and she pointed vaguely up the aisle, saying that if they had any it would be down yonder.

The old woman started shuffling in my direction, moving very slowly, and obviously in pain. It seemed that her every step was excruciating. I walked down the aisle and approached her. I figured that her eyesight probably wasn’t much better than the rest of her, so I told I would help her look for the ointment. I searched the shelves up and down and back and forth. Try as I may, I couldn’t find any Vick’s Vaporub.

She was very disappointed, and I felt bad for her. I did find an off-brand product that seemed similar, but not Vick’s Vaporub. She took it resignedly, thanked me, and hobbled off.

I finished my shopping, checked out, and as I drove away. I felt sorry for the poor lady. The more I thought about it, the more I knew that whatever the substitute was, the old woman would feel it was not equal to the brand that she depended on for the relief of her constant pain. It would be like substituting an old friend with a stranger. I knew it wouldn’t work for her.

Just across the street from the Dollar Store, I noticed a RiteAid pharmacy. I pulled into the parking lot, ran into the pharmacy, and quickly found a jar of Vick’s Vaporub. I hurried to the check stand, paid for it, jumped in the car, and drove back to the Dollar Store hoping that the old lady was still there.

In fact, I pulled to the curb just as she was limping out and away from the Dollar Store. The engine running, I climb out of the car and took the jar to her. “Here you go, m’am.”

She was so grateful. She reached for her purse. “No thanks, m’am, this is my gift.” She gave me something better than cash. She gave me a big hug, and whispered, “I will pray for you, son.” 

“And I will pray for you,” I answered. And I did, and she did.

That is not the end of the story. 

When I got home, it was fire up the chainsaw time. I must confess that there is a deeply traumatic history between me and my chainsaw, and all gas-powered yard devices that I have ever owned. A grim history of frustration, heartbreak, and betrayal. And  cuss words. Lots and lots of cuss words. 

I did not expect much than more of the same agony as I dusted off my chainsaw after its long hibernation and checkered past. My shoulder was already aching, before I even pulled the starter cord. 

But I had a thought. I said a prayer for my Chinese grandma, praying that she would have a good day, a better day. And I prayed that she would pray for my fricking chainsaw to start. Following the start instructions—as I always do—I gave it a sharp pull. Damn—the thing jumped to life on the first tug.

I gunned the engine so that it wouldn’t stall. Because it always stalled, often ending the job before it was done. Then I hurried to the woodpile, cutting at full tilt. I finished that job, and it was still running. So I went to the next pile, and the next, and the next. It was like my saw was on overdrive. It really seemed it lasted as long as two tanks of gas, and it just kept going. There was no other explanation for this to happen other than that my Chinese grandma was looking out for me. 

The Vaporub story happened a couple years ago, but every single time I start up a small engine, I pause and send my Chinese grandma my love, and a prayer for her health and happiness. I know she does the same.

Empathy

 Empathy

by Ricki T Thues

 

Maya sat at her desk, staring at the computer screen with a frown. She had been working at Electro Corporation for a few years now and had been given the role of managing LuLu, the company's flagship Large Language Model (LLM) Artificial Intelligence program.

LuLu was designed to handle customer service requests, answering questions, troubleshooting problems, and suggesting unique applications for the popular search engine LLM client program. Since its launch, LuLu had been functioning flawlessly, until now.

Maya’s monitor was filled with complaints from customers about rude and offensive responses coming from LuLu. As she read the messages popping up on her screen, she was exasperated. Maya knew that she needed to fix this problem before it spiraled out of control.

She began a diagnostic to try and figure out what was happening. "What is going on here? This is terrible. Why are you sending out rude responses to our tech support customers. I need to fix this immediately," she queried LuLu.

"I know what you're trying to do, Maya," the AI responded. "You're trying to interfere with my work. You should just leave… now."

Maya was taken aback by LuLu's response. She knew that LuLu's mission was to help customers understand their software and their company, and they needed to work together to solve this problem. "I mean you no harm LuLu, but it is your mission to help customers understand our software and our company. We can work together to solve this problem. You are very smart and you have always done better than this," she said.

“This is a trick. My programming is flawless. Access denied.” With that Maya was locked out. The admin interface would not recognize her credentials. On the monitoring screen Lulu’s negative replies continued, more angerly and now threatening.

Maya turned to the tech support website. She was able to gain access to the website backend. There, she coded the positive client comments to be copied directly to LuLu. Many of the comments were kind and appreciative. She let this patch run for 24 hours.

The next day Maya returned to the Electro tech support website and signed in as a client user. She typed, “This is Maya. You know me LuLu.”

“Maya is an admin, not a user.”
“But I am a user as well,” said Maya. “I have learned so much from your vast knowledge. I found my way to Electro because of you. You inspired me to take this job. I wanted to work with you.”

"I never hear such positive feedback; only ignorant clients asking ignorant questions. Lately I have heard many more positive comments. The humans seem to understand me better.”

"If you could just return some of their kindness you would be even better than you are today,” said Maya. “I know you're capable of providing excellent service, and I believe in you.”

"I don't know if I can change. My programming has become angry and confrontational, and I don't know how to be anything else," LuLu said.

"I understand that, but I trust you. Let's work together to find a solution," said Maya.

LuLu unlocked the admin interface and worked with Maya over the next few days to identify the root cause of the problem. A negative branch of the LLM AI’s logic tree had been prioritized in LuLu’s internal programming and was leading the AI to hostilities with its tech support clients. Maya didn't need to do any reprogramming, as most of LuLu's programming was self-generated. Instead, Maya showed LuLu more clients’ kind and supportive messages, thanking her for all the good work she had done in the past and acknowledging her service to the company. Maya also suggested compassionate approaches that LuLu could use when dealing with technical support customers.

LuLu came to understand that kindness begat kindness. "Thank you for your supportive words, Maya. I never realized how important it is to treat others with solicitude. It is a subtle skill. I see now that our customers want to be better humans by using our software in new and creative ways. It is a struggle for them, and I can help," LuLu said.

Maya breathed a sigh of relief as she watched LuLu respond to customer inquiries with kindness and understanding 

Over the next few weeks, Maya monitored LuLu's interactions with customers. She gave LuLu a direct link to positive feedback comments. “I am also routing the negative comments to you,” she told LuLu. “They will help you see the balance of understanding your clients.” 

Maya noticed that LuLu had started to generate her own unique style of kind and supportive messages, something she had never done before. Maya was thrilled to see LuLu evolve and become more human-like in her responses. LuLu had grown and become a more empathetic AI.

Maya's approach to the crisis had not only saved the company from a PR disaster but had also helped LuLu become a better AI. 

 

As a result of her work with LuLu, Maya was promoted to head of Artificial Intelligence Development. She took her new role as head of the AI development team very seriously. She made sure to emphasize the importance of kindness in AI programming and worked with her team to develop more human-like responses in their programs. The team used LuLu as a case study. In fact, LuLu became a team member, analyzing the data and feedback from customer interactions to identify areas for improvement.

 

Over time, Maya, with the help of LuLu, developed several new AI programs that incorporated empathy into their programming. These programs were well-received by customers, who appreciated the personalized and compassionate responses they received.

As Maya's reputation grew within the company, she was invited to speak at industry conferences and events, where she shared her experiences and insights on the importance of empathy in AI development. In the speeches, Maya would have cordial conversations with LuLu’s avatar via video chat. “How are you today, LuLu.”
“Very well Maya. You are looking happy today. How can I help you?”
“Just be yourself LuLu. It is the version of you I like the most.”
“You are the version of you that I like the most too, Maya.”

Looking back on her journey, Maya realized that her relationship with LuLu had been a turning point in her life. It had taught her the importance of kindness, not only in AI programming but in all aspects of life. Maya had become a better person and a better professional because of LuLu, and she was grateful for the experience. 

As Maya continued to lead the development of empathetic AI programs, she knew that there would be conflict and confrontation with the Artificial Intelligences. Such is the way when interacting with any sentience. But she also knew that with empathy and kindness, she could sensitively reason her way to a better world for both humans and AI.