The novelist Ewan Morrison was alarmed, although amused, to find he had written a guide referred to as 9 Inches Pleases a Girl. Intrigued by the bounds of generative synthetic intelligence (AI), he had requested ChatGPT to present him the names of the 12 novels he had written. “I’ve solely written 9,” he says. “All the time wanting to please, it determined to invent three.” The “9 inches” from the pretend title it hallucinated was stolen from a grimy Robert Burns poem. “I simply mistrust these methods in the case of fact,” says Morrison. He’s but to write down 9 Inches – “or its sequel, Eighteen Inches”, he laughs. His precise newest guide, For Emma, imagining AI brain-implant chips, is in regards to the human prices of expertise.
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