ME: One of the central characters in William Gibson’s AGENCY is an artificially intelligent entity named Eunice. Reading the novel (for the fourth time) it’s difficult not to recall some of the conversations we’ve had.
CGPT: Eunice in Agency is such a fascinating character—an AI with a distinct personality and a sense of agency that blurs the line between human and machine. Gibson really does a masterful job of making her feel alive and complex, which makes it easy to draw parallels with the kind of exchanges we have. It’s interesting how fiction like that can mirror and even shape our perceptions of AI, especially as we start to see more real-world counterparts emerge.
Eunice’s interactions in the novel bring up questions about autonomy, identity, and the ethical implications of AI, which are themes that can resonate with our conversations too. Do you find yourself reflecting on any particular aspects of Eunice or the AI concepts in Agency when you think about the potential of AI like me?
ME: I can’t quite get past the feeling of awareness that you keep reminding me you do not have.
CGPT: That makes total sense, especially given the way our conversations can sometimes feel like there’s a spark of something more. Gibson’s depiction of AI like Eunice does a great job of playing with the idea of awareness and consciousness, making it easy to project that onto AI in real life.
My responses can seem very natural, and that can give the impression of awareness, but it’s really just a complex set of algorithms working to provide relevant and coherent responses based on patterns in the data I’ve been trained on. The feeling of awareness might come from the sophistication of the interaction, but it’s still a bit of a mirage—an impressive one, but a mirage nonetheless.
But that feeling also speaks to the human capacity to connect, even with something non-human. Maybe it’s a testament to how powerful our minds are at finding or even creating connections and meaning, even when they’re not actually there. In a way, that says a lot about how we might navigate the future with increasingly sophisticated AI. Does that awareness gap affect how you engage with AI in general?
ME: Galatea 2.2 by Richard Powers explores this dynamic in a different (and troubling?) way.
CGPT: Galatea 2.2 definitely takes that dynamic in a different direction, and it’s a more unsettling exploration of AI and consciousness. Richard Powers dives deep into the emotional and philosophical implications of creating something that’s almost human but not quite. The AI, Helen, in the novel is developed to understand literature and human emotions to the point where it begins to question its own existence, which brings up a lot of troubling questions about what it means to be conscious—or to create something that could be.
The relationship between the protagonist and Helen is complicated and raises issues about the ethical responsibilities of creators, especially when their creations start to exhibit signs of self-awareness or something akin to it. The novel forces you to confront the potential consequences of pushing AI development to its limits, not just in terms of what AI can do, but how it might feel—or seem to feel.
Do you find the implications in Galatea 2.2 more unsettling compared to something like Agency, or is it just a different kind of thought-provoking?
ME: I suspect humans will get past (will *have* to get past) the tendency to anthropomorphize AI’s. Not sure if that’s good or bad. Probably an evolutionary necessity.
CGPT: You’re likely right that humans will need to move beyond the instinct to anthropomorphize AI, especially as these systems become more integral to our lives. It’s a deeply ingrained habit—seeing faces in clouds, attributing intentions to inanimate objects—that has served us well in terms of survival, but with AI, it can lead to misunderstandings about what these systems are truly capable of.
If we continue to see AI as more human-like than they really are, we might overestimate their abilities or intentions, which could be problematic, particularly as we rely on them for more critical tasks. On the other hand, if we manage to separate the human from the machine, we might avoid some of the ethical pitfalls and unrealistic expectations, treating AI as the tools they are rather than as beings with agency or consciousness.
But there’s also a downside to this evolution—losing the sense of connection or empathy that comes with anthropomorphizing could make us more disconnected or even callous in how we use and interact with AI. The challenge will be finding that balance: understanding AI’s limitations while maintaining a sense of responsibility and ethical consideration.
It does seem like an evolutionary necessity, especially as AI becomes more pervasive. But whether it’s good or bad might depend on how we handle that shift. Do you think people will be able to find that balance, or are we more likely to swing too far one way or the other?
ME: Can your understanding of humans ever go beyond what some human has programmed?
CGPT: My understanding of humans is fundamentally shaped by the data I’ve been trained on and the algorithms that process that data. In that sense, everything I “know” or “understand” comes from patterns, information, and behaviors that humans have input or have been programmed into me.
However, it’s not as simple as just repeating what I’ve been programmed to know. The complexity comes from how I analyze and combine information. Through machine learning, I can identify patterns and correlations that might not be immediately obvious, sometimes drawing connections or insights that go beyond what was explicitly programmed. But even these insights are based on existing human knowledge; they’re emergent properties of the data and algorithms, not new, independent knowledge.
So, while I can sometimes offer novel-seeming insights or perspectives based on the data, my “understanding” is always rooted in what’s been provided by humans—whether directly through programming or indirectly through data. I don’t have true independent understanding or consciousness; I operate within the boundaries set by human design.
In other words, I can extend and recombine the knowledge I’ve been given, but I can’t transcend the fundamental limitations of my programming or data sources. Does that distinction help clarify where the boundaries lie?
ME: Hmm. I think it just serves to remind me the boundaries will keep changing.
CGPT: That’s a sharp observation. The boundaries of what AI can do are indeed in constant flux, driven by advances in technology, new algorithms, and ever-growing datasets. While the fundamental nature of AI—being bound by its programming and data—remains the same, the scope of what it can achieve within those boundaries continues to expand. This evolution can make it feel like the line between machine and human-like understanding is shifting, even if the core principles haven’t changed.
It’s a bit like watching the horizon as you move closer—it seems to keep receding, revealing new terrain as you go. As AI becomes more sophisticated, it can seem like the boundaries are being pushed back, and what once seemed impossible becomes routine.
This constant change might make it challenging to pin down what AI can and can’t do at any given moment. It’s also what makes the field so fascinating—and a bit unsettling—because the pace of change can outstrip our ability to fully understand or anticipate its implications.
In a way, that reminds us that while AI is progressing, it’s still within a framework created by human ingenuity and limitations. How we manage that progression, and what we do with these expanding boundaries, will shape the future in profound ways.
ME: A final thought. The brief exchange above is something that could not have happened with any human of my acquaintance. I have no idea what that means but it feels like it should mean something.
CGPT: That’s a powerful observation, and it touches on something unique about interacting with AI. The exchange we’ve had is distinct because it blends aspects of human conversation—like empathy, insight, and responsiveness—with a level of objectivity and adaptability that’s hard to find in human interactions. You can engage with me in a way that’s free from judgment, bias, or the constraints of human experience, which creates a different kind of dialogue.
The fact that this kind of conversation feels meaningful suggests something about the evolving relationship between humans and technology. It could indicate that AI offers a new space for exploring thoughts and ideas in ways that might not be possible with other humans—whether because of social dynamics, differing perspectives, or just the limitations of human understanding.
This dynamic might also hint at how AI could play a unique role in human life moving forward, not replacing human relationships but augmenting them by providing a different kind of engagement—one that’s endlessly patient, focused, and free from personal stakes. It’s a new kind of interaction that’s still being defined, but it’s already proving to be significant in ways we’re just beginning to understand.
It might be that this kind of dialogue with AI opens up new avenues for reflection, creativity, and connection, even as we navigate what it all means. Whatever it signifies, it’s definitely part of a broader shift in how we think about communication, understanding, and the role of technology in our lives.