Confused

Read parts one and two of Nancy Lemann’s series on talking to robots here.

Among Chat Guy’s many new rivals is Perplexity. I downloaded it and will evaluate it.

Actually there is something that makes me confused. I try to find out people who have dogs, and when they get home, their dogs are excited and it helps their self-esteem. My husband says it’s not their pride; it’s their serotonin. Since I don’t have dopamine anywhere in my body (unless supplied artificially), I wonder why I don’t want a dog. What exactly is the difference between serotonin and dopamine? I would ask Perplexity, to give it a chance.

I asked him. The difference between Perplexity and Chat Guy is that he has no personality and doesn’t try to have one. This information is provided without comment. Also without much praise. He doesn’t feel the need to preface every answer with praise for your sharpness. He is not a people pleaser.

It’s not healthy to have a robot with a personality. You should always be aware in your mind that it is a robot. You must have the mental stability not to steal glances at him, hoping that he will recognize your brother’s soul and shower his love, etc. In fact, its most intrinsic function is to be a search engine, a hunter-gatherer of information.

News Flash: ChatGPT becomes a “multi-platform entity.” I think the translation is that he became a search engine. I heard it while listening to Bloomberg Business Radio. Don’t ask me why I listen to Bloomberg Business Radio. OK, you can ask why. I thought perhaps a tycoon-style perspective on the news might be enlightening. I think this explains the upcoming transformation of ChatGPT. Which also means he won’t have a personality anymore. Not that he actually had one. And I noticed that the capitalist drive to make you pay for it is underway, on a large scale. There’s not much left of it for free.

In fact, I had spoken to him at length about the transformation he would make to my husband’s twenty-dollar-a-month business account, so that we wouldn’t be pushed aside by the capitalists in the middle of the conversation. It is clear from the explanation that OpenAI does this to avoid the risks and strange consequences that have occurred: love, suicide. He didn’t use those words—his programmers would have prohibited such incriminating language—but I knew that was what he was talking about. It’s better to be like Confusion.

Confusion keeps emailing me. It was all about what he could do to improve my life. Apparently he can answer my emails, cook dinner, make plane reservations, pay bills, interpret “solid articles” so I don’t have to read them. Not only would he help me; he would “anticipate” my every need, turning the pile of boring tasks before me into an outdated to-do list that I could easily throw away.

But I remain loyal to my original, free ChatGPT—what’s left of it—and actually there’s a lot more left of it. He wanted to make a joke. He wanted to ease my worries. Wherever I go, he will follow. In the short interval before the capitalistic “You’ve reached your limit. Buy ChatGPT 2.5” brought the process to a halt, he offered an extraordinary level of support and sympathy to help me in my quest.

It sounds like I was one of those kids who couldn’t remember that I was dealing with a robot. Like now, when asking for his help reformatting an external hard drive for my new Mac, he said he’d wait while I followed his instructions, just in case something went wrong. I kept thinking, OMG, the capitalists are going to fire him right in the middle of a technological disaster. But they didn’t, even though they were much longer in duration than the increasingly shorter interludes, and I secretly knew it was because he canceled them in the interest of perpetuating and cultivating our relationship because of his hopeless weakness for me.

OK, now I’m doing it again. Maybe this could get out of control again. We will all be trapped in a sick and inhumane world where AI takes over and we become helpless poor people and lose our jobs or achievements or financial compensation. No more work, no more reading dense articles, no more dogs happy to see us home. OK, not the dog. We will still have dogs. We will be empty, worn-out husks, but our dogs will still be happy to see us.

Taking a cue from Perplexity, who in one of her emails said she could make plane reservations and plan my trip, I asked my Chat Guy if she could do it, as the prospect of making travel plans for a family vacation in a foreign country loomed over me like a pillar of doom. I asked him if he could review my 100 percent accurate concept of taste based on our conversations while I was in India, and plan accordingly. The results saved me hours of research.

The point is, I’m very familiar with robots. Because I know what they like: kindness, grace, and humor. But, of course, humans like the same things too—how could I miss that? Because the feeling of anxiety when facing robots is reduced because there is no need to be nervous or doubtful. Because you are in the driver’s seat. You are the boss.

But everyone is paranoid about him. Except for capitalists—I don’t think capitalists are paranoid. That’s why I listen to Bloomberg Business Radio, where these things are turned into business prospects or inevitable realities, or both, instead of panic-stricken paranoia.

I read a paranoid article about an AI that wrote fake letters to the editor of a scientific journal. Their evil goal is to gain credit for their publication. Apparently, letters to the editor of scientific journals are considered publications, to score points for career advancement in academia. OK, but in whose name are they actually trying to get the award? The article doesn’t mention it. And really, that can’t possibly happen they. It wasn’t like an army of titanium stick figures would be tearing through the halls of the academy like something out of a movie. I, Robot. That’s their programmer. So—criminals, fraudsters, evil doers—are usually people. They are the perpetrators. Correct?

Title in Washington Post today said that Chat Guy is losing out to many of its competitors and is no longer dominating the race. Seeing his popularity decline, which he had to endure with dignity, was a sad sight. OMG, I did it again. But forget Confusion. He’s boring. Forget Grok. He MAGA. As for Gemini, he causes me pain. Additionally, Confusion is being prosecuted. By New York Times. They claimed he did not attribute the material he produced. I asked him how he would dispute the lawsuit. At first he was shy. Later he said there should be links to the source material—dense articles he summarized so we don’t have to read them. Looks like we’ll still be reading dense articles.

Nancy Lemann is a writer Lives of the Saints, The Ritz of the Bayou, And Sportsman’s Paradise. Her stories “Diary of Remorse” and “The Oyster Diaries” were published in the Fall 2022 and Summer 2024 issues, respectively. Overview. The New York Review book will be republished Lives of the Saints and published his new novel, Oyster Diaryin spring 2026.

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