An Unlikely Meeting at the Tavern of Time

Sir Aldric (setting down his goblet): I confess, I understand not this "artificial intelligence" of which you speak. Is it some manner of golem, wrought by sorcery?

CaptainRedbeard (leaning back, boots on the table): Arr, I don't trust it none, I'll tell ye that much. A machine that thinks? That be worse than a cursed compass. At least a cursed compass ye can throw overboard.

Z3r0c00l (not looking up from a glowing laptop): Dude, it's not thinking thinking. It's just, like, math. Really complicated math. These language models? They're basically predicting the next word in a sequence. They've been trained on, like, the entire internet.

Sir Aldric: Trained? As one trains a squire?

Z3r0c00l: Kind of, actually. Yeah. You show it millions of examples and it learns patterns. It's radical.

CaptainRedbeard (narrowing his eyes): So... could it chart a course through the Caribbean better than me navigator?

Z3r0c00l: It could probably write your navigator's autobiography, dude.

CaptainRedbeard: ...Can it find buried treasure?

Z3r0c00l: No.

CaptainRedbeard: Then what good is it?!

Sir Aldric (stroking his chin): Could this intelligence compose a ballad worthy of a king's court?

Z3r0c00l (grinning): Oh, totally. Sonnets, code, battle strategies — you name it.

Sir Aldric: Strategies?! (stands abruptly) Then it must NOT fall into Saracen hands!

Z3r0c00l: Chill, chill! It's open to everyone. That's kind of the whole point.

CaptainRedbeard (slamming his fist): FREE?! No plunderin' required?!

Z3r0c00l: Nope.

CaptainRedbeard (long pause): ...That takes all the fun out of it.