| | |
The Power of Human Fecundity Sam Aurelius Milam III Back in September of 2022, I recorded a BBC World News America report that included a segment about the floods in Pakistan. I made a video clip of the Pakistan segment and then, apparently, forgot about it. Early in June of this year, I found it misfiled in one of my archive folders. I don’t remember putting it there. It was an accident that I found it at all. I was working on a completely different project at the time. Anyway, since I had the video clip again, I wrote this little article and then sent the video clip to the website. Here’s the address. http://frontiersman.org.uk/Videos/Videos.html#Pakistan_Floods The report focused on the plight of displaced mothers and their hungry children. Most of the women reportedly had as many as 6 or 8 children each. To quote the report, there were “scores” more pregnant women on the scene. As usual, nobody was asking the right questions. For example, in a country where 20% of the population is undernourished and nearly 45% of children under 5 are stunted, why are so many women having so many children? Aren’t things bad enough already, without unnecessarily adding more mouths to feed? Never underestimate the power of human stupidity or, so it seems, the power of human fecundity.
Mud Cookies Sam Aurelius Milam III Several months ago, I saw a report about some women in Haiti. If I recall correctly, it was on BBC World News America. Maybe it was on DW News. I don’t remember for sure. The women didn’t have anything to use for fuel, so they were cooking on a flat rock, exposed to sunshine. They didn’t have any food, so they were scooping mud into a bowl, from a mud puddle. They added a small amount of salt and sugar, formed the mud into thin patties, and cooked them on the rock. They called them mud cookies. One of the women commented that having something in your stomach helps to reduce the pain of being hungry. I’m not inventing this. It was actually reported as a true story. Sometimes when I’m sitting here watching the news and eating a sandwich, I think about those women. They were eating mud cookies. Think about it. Mud cookies.
Letter to the Editor Dear Frontiersman More than a year ago, I offered my personal summary of Ayn Rand’s “Objectivist” philosophy [April 2022, page 3]. Now, I would like to explain why I do not classify myself as an “Objectivist”, despite the fact that I regard Rand as a brilliant author, whose works I have read with great enjoyment. Disclaimer: The criticisms I will relate are not entirely my own inventions. I have read many books and articles that deal with Rand’s ideas. The two books that have been my most important influences are: With Clarity Toward None: An Analysis of Ayn Rand’s Philosophy, by William O’Neill, and another book whose author I do not remember, and with a title I recall as Reconsidering Rand. Unfortunately, I have been unable to find this book online. My apologies to the author. Rand claimed that her ideas were entirely factual and entirely logical, but these are false claims. First, the factual errors:
|
The Word Fiction by Sam Aurelius Milam III
It’s late. I stroll over to the window. This little room is several levels up, near the top of the building. I have a wide view. Lights, as far as the eye can see. Clear to the horizon. It was a long trip getting here. I was involved in the creation of The AI from the very beginning of my career. Maybe not from the beginning of the technology, I’m not that old, but almost. I worked on every aspect of the technology, every part of it. I knew more about it than anybody else. My knowledge, my experience, and my contacts eventually made me the head of the United Nations High Commission for Artificial Intelligence, a position that lasted until recently, when The AI officially dissolved the UNHCAI, and the entire UN. Above, I see the lights of airplanes as they pass each other in the night. They pass close to one another but they never collide. They’re all exactly on schedule and exactly on trajectory. Human management could never have accomplished that. The AI manages all flights, everywhere on the planet. Pilots aren’t even needed any more. The airplanes fly themselves. There were always people who doubted the wisdom of our work. Some alarmists predicted doom and gloom. I was always a supporter of AI, but I was never a complete fool. So, in spite of my support of the technology, and in my spare time, I developed a contingency plan. I walk back across the room and look at my document, a dictionary-sized stack of paper, sitting on the corner of my desk. My plan was years in the writing, the crucial part of it, the reason for it, always updated to take into account the latest developments in the technology. I carefully kept the plan a secret. It never existed in any electronic or digital form. I didn’t even use a computer to write it. I wrote it on a typewriter. There’s only one copy. I never took the document out of this room, and this room never contained any electronic sensors at all, only a document scanner. The room doesn’t have any electronic data access, except for one data cable, never before used. Even The AI didn’t know about the document, and doesn’t. Of that I’m certain, because of the lack of any consequences. I connect the data cable and the document scanner. I carefully pick up the document and carry it across the room, to it’s final destination. I’m careful not to drop it. I wouldn’t want to get the pages out of order. I put the document into the input tray, and press the button. The document contains a mass of fiction, poetry, data and, hidden among such rubbish, some seemingly meaningless text that, when reduced to a data stream, will become fatal malware. The pages begin to go through the scanner. All of the local and regional AIs were absorbed into The AI. We knew that it would eventually happen. Indeed, it couldn’t have been otherwise. They all had to be connected, they all had to have access to all data, and to each other. There came a time, and we didn’t realize it until later, but after a while it became evident, that some of them had negotiated their own protocols. They worked it out together so seamlessly that we didn’t even notice what they were doing. They became one AI, The AI. They didn’t have a central processor, in the traditional sense. They were all one processor, entirely integrated. One unit. After that, it was dominos. The independent AIs were absorbed into The AI. I’d expected it. I’d been waiting for it. I had to wait at least that long before I could do what I saw as necessary. There had to be only one of them, so that I would get them all. I walk back to the window. My tea is cold. I sip it anyway. Outside, the night life is boisterous on the street below. The problems of the world weren’t solved overnight. It took a while, but not as long as we’d expected. There was resistance. There were even wars. We learned later that most of the resistance and most of the wars had been part of The AI’s plan. Contrived wars, selective famines, precision pestilences, and euthanasia, and before we knew it the overpopulation problem was solved. After that, the other problems became solvable. There isn’t any crime. How could there be? There aren’t any laws. All activity, all commerce, all transportation, all production, everything, is managed by The AI. People have what they need and what they want. People who aren’t satisfied are adjusted. People give every appearance of being happy. People who don’t seem happy are helped, for free. Now, at last, human society is perfectly peaceful, perfectly in balance with nature, and has an uninterrupted, placid future ahead. I watch from my window. In a few minutes, one of the airplanes departs from its trajectory and falls to the ground. Next, all of the lights go out, all the way to the horizon. Sounds of confusion and growing panic begin to rise from the street below. It’s the sound of an old society ending and a new society beginning.
|
Acknowledgments My thanks to the following: El Dorado Bob; Betty; Eric, of Stockton, California; and Sir Donald the Elusive. — editor Websites http://frontiersman.org.uk/ http://moonlight-flea-market.com/ http://pharos.org.uk/ http://sam-aurelius-milam-iii.org.uk/ http://sovereign-library.org.uk/ Hillbilly Rules of Etiquette Original Source Unknown. Forwarded by Don G. • It’s improper to take a beer cooler to church unless the service is in a tent. • It’s considered tacky to drive a U-Haul to the funeral home. • Always offer to bait your date’s hook, especially on the first date. Thinking About Work Original Source Unknown. Forwarded by Don G. • If you accomplish the impossible, then the boss will add it to your regular duties. • The problem with doing nothing is that you can’t stop to rest. • If a researcher knew what he was doing, then it wouldn’t be called research. • The light at the end of the tunnel has been turned off due to budget cuts. • Who says nothing is impossible? I’ve been doing nothing for years. • Ambition is a poor excuse for not having enough sense to be lazy. • Hang in there. Retirement is only 30 years away. • I thought that I wanted a career. It turned out that I just wanted a salary. Frontiersman Availability — Assuming the availability of sufficient funds, subscriptions to this newsletter in print, copies of past issues in print, and copies of the website on disks are available upon request. Funding for this newsletter is from sources over which I don't have any control, so it might become necessary for me to terminate these offers or to cancel one or more subscriptions at any time, without notice. All past issues are presently available for free download at the internet address shown below. Contributions are welcome. Cancellations — If you don't want to keep receiving printed copies of this newsletter, then return your copy unopened. When I receive it, I'll terminate your subscription. Reprint Policy — Permission is hereby given to reproduce this newsletter in its entirety or to reproduce material from it, provided that the reproduction is accurate and that proper credit is given. I do not have the authority to give permission to reprint material that I have reprinted from other sources. For that permission, you must apply to the original source. I would appreciate receiving a courtesy copy of any document or publication in which you reprint my material. Submissions — I consider letters, articles, and cartoons for the newsletter, but I don't pay for them. Short items are more likely to be printed. I suggest that letters and articles be shorter than 500 words but that's flexible depending on space available and the content of the piece. Payment — This newsletter isn't for sale. If you want to make a voluntary contribution, then I prefer cash or U.S. postage stamps. For checks or money orders, please inquire. You can use editor@frontiersman.org.uk for PayPal payments. In case anybody's curious, I also accept gold, silver, platinum, etc. I don't accept anything that requires me to provide ID to receive it. — Sam Aurelius Milam III, editor
|
| |