(Setting: A dusty tavern near a pirate cove. Captain Redbeard (pirate, eye patch, peg leg) slams a tankard. Sir Reginald (knight, tarnished armor, sighing) sips mead. "Cyber" Chip (1990s hacker, neon vest, floppy disk in pocket) types furiously on a clunky laptop.)

Redbeard:
(Slams fist on table)
"AI? Bah! Sounds like a cursed treasure map! Tell me, Chip—does this 'model' show where the real gold is buried? Or just... ghost ships?"

Chip:
(Without looking up, grinning)
"Whoa, easy, Cap'n! Nah, AI ain't treasure—it's the treasure! It learns from everything, like, everything on the internet. Trained on books, cat videos, your pirate tweets... glitchy, but sweet."

Sir Reginald:
(Scoffs, polishing sword)
"Ghost ships? Angels? I’ve heard of Angels—but AI? Sounds like sorcery! A knight’s duty is honor, not... neural nets! If this 'model' distracts me from my quest for the Holy Grail, I’ll break its firewall!"

Redbeard:
(Leans in, intrigued)
"Neural what? So it’s like... a magic compass? Points to all the loot? Better than a map, eh?"

Chip:
(Nods, clicks mouse)
"Exactly! But it’s not perfect. Sometimes it spits out bad loot—like, 'Here’s a squirrel! Gold! Squirrel!' Gotta train it right. Real pain in the ass."

Sir Reginald:
(Stands up, dismayed)
"Training? Squirrels? This is not the path of knighthood! I fight dragons, not... glitchy data!"

Redbeard:
(Winks, clinks tankard with Chip)
"Still, Cap'n Chip—train that model to find my doubloons, and I’ll make you pirate of the year. No squirrels."

Chip:
(Grins, shuts laptop)
"Deal. Now, if you’ll excuse me—my dial-up’s buffering. Gotta go to bed before the system crashes."

(Chip vanishes into the neon-lit night. Sir Reginald groans. Redbeard laughs, raising his tankard.)

Redbeard:
"To real magic! And no squirrels!"

(Cue tavern brawl, but with less swords, more keyboard clacks.)