Sixty students were seated in a Victorian chamber with high windows and oak-panelled walls, gazing at the bejewelled and bescarved whirl who was Mme. Vaillancourt, a Parisian marvel of a certain age eased from the pages of Madeline. Young men were swooning, young women taking notes.
"A shelf of books should be a compound eye, or a distributed network of inputs feeding marvels of inaccessible insight to readers in their armchairs."
The tedium of a long train journey to Chicago interrupted by a strange platform ritual I'll never quite forget.
I thought that an ant farm would be a safe and untraumatic introduction to the responsibilities of caring for other lives.
It’s not often that I am obliged to correct Stephen Hawking.
Hawking, Elon Musk, and others I rarely advise, along with Bill Gates, who should have listened, have warned that humanity’s freedom or survival will be at risk when Artificial Intelligence emerges. This is hardly a new fear; this is default science fiction. An AI’s motives for enslaving or destroying us are often thin, so we’ll just call it The Dramatically-Satisfying Case Against Letting Humans Live.
In a novel where we learn that an airliner is made of ...
If you stick with this story, and engage with its main people, you will be rewarded...