A few weeks ago I felt like it would be fun to see if I can make one of those cheap Chinese CarPlay dongles run something other than the stock firmware. The idea was that rather than just forwarding CarPlay, why not do something more interesting with them? They all work quite similarly: they act as bridges between your car and the phone. From there they deal with video and audio streams and pass some other data through. Most of them also bring up a custom UI for pairing and have a web interface that your phone can reach for updates. Long story short: I had a conversation with Fable and Sol via Pi about what could be done with such a dongle or whether I should use a Raspberry Pi instead if I wanted to do my own thing there. I figured it might be quite fun to run my own code while still allowing regular CarPlay to pass through. Through working with the LLM I learned about CatPlay, which is a Rust reimplementation of the CarPlay protocol that can run on Carlinkit devices. In particular, it can run on the Carlinkit Mini Ultra, which I figured would be easy enough to buy. I do have a few CarPlay adapters around, but I did not have that particular model, so I bought one on Amazon. Twenty-four hours later, I had a device in my hand that was branded as a Carlinkit Mini Ultra, but instead of being the Ingenic device that the original author used, it turned out to be something else. This is normally where the story would stop. However, it’s 2026. Armed with a bit of knowledge about how these systems work, I managed to have some fruitful discussions with Kimi K3 and Sol and figure out how flash the device and in turn, how to make CatPlay compile for that SoC. I guess that hacking these USB devices is not necessarily hard, but it’s laborious and you can easily end up bricking your devices. It also just sucks because sometimes you need to work with someone else’s code that does not itself run on your machine. In the past, I would abandon many such projects for lack of tenacity. But my clanker is tenacious. But so are all of our clankers. Some of the projects we’re now attempting are happening because of conversations we have with them. In this case I did not find or decide on CatPlay, the model did. It was not the only suggestion, but it became the best starting point after discarding others. And I discover this more and more. Particularly when we have solitary interactions with these models, some of us “independently” decide to work on similar projects. When I talked with an acquaintance about CarPlay he also mentioned recently that he decided to try something similar because he too wanted to see if he can get his own agent be hooked up with the car. And guess what: he too learned about the CarPlay hacking community, and that it’s an option, from the models and roughly around the same time. It really got me thinking about how this could create situations in which completely independent people end up building things they believe are their own ideas. Yet they were inspired or pushed towards doing something by a conversation with an LLM — a conversation that someone else also had. What if we took paths, because those were the paths that were more likely with current generation models? There is a running joke in the AI builder community right now that we’re all working on the same things, and in many ways it feels like we are. That might be because those things are obvious, or it might be partly because we all use the same models with the same capabilities. A few months ago, I first saw Lucas Meijer share the idea to make a model in Pi produce HTML reports rather than Markdown. I thought that was pretty unique. Except, well turns out the models are probably trained more and more for that (e.g. Claude Artifacts), and now it has become for many the default choice for sharing reports. How much of what we build comes from eliciting the same latent capabilities from the same models? Did the models make us prompt them that way? Was it because we shared ideas on Twitter and other communities that inspired us? Or is it all unrelated? There is something powerful and strange about how LLMs diffuse knowledge and capabilities, while perhaps also nudging us all simultaniously and independently toward building the same things.

A few weeks ago a paper was shared that showed how to extract reasoning traces from closed-weight models. Together with online discussions about tricking models into leaking them, it made me investigate it more out of curiosity. Twitter seems full of half-truths and confusion about how this works, so perhaps this helps some to understand what is happening. Hiding Traces Reasoning traces are usually hidden from us. We have lamented this, but mostly have to accept it. Open-weight models thankfully reveal them, and from their behavior you can see that their traces can be long and confusing. This is probably a good reason to separate them from what is normally shown to users. At minimum, UIs need to detect them. The industry has done a good job at making reasoning traces sound special and exotic, but they really are just text: the model is trained to emit its thinking into a scratchpad as part of its response, before its final answer. GPT-OSS’s Harmony response format makes this easy to see: <|channel|>analysis<|message|> I need to work this out ... <|end|><|start|>assistant<|channel|>final<|message|> The answer is ... <|return|> The markers are special tokens, but the reasoning between them uses “the same text” as the final answer (just that GPT chain-of-thought text sounds really funny). When the model samples the analysis channel token, a parser routes the following text into a separate stream exposed through the Responses API. For closed models, presumably a simple model redacts and summarizes it. Reasoning Effort How much budget goes to reasoning? Earlier APIs exposed reasoning token budgets, making it seem like a property of the sampling process. In reality, reasoning effort is baked into the system prompt. GPT-OSS puts this into the system prompt: Reasoning: low That’s it. Training produces the resulting behavior, such as emitting the token sequence that switches to the analysis channel. This also explains why changing the effort invalidates the KV cache. I think closed GPT models call reasoning effort “juice,” since you can ask most models how much juice they have. In DwarfStar for DeepSeek with max reasoning this is added to the system prompt: Reasoning Effort: Absolute maximum with no shortcuts permitted. You MUST be very thorough in your thinking and comprehensively decompose the problem to resolve the root cause, rigorously stress-testing your logic against all potential paths, edge cases, and adversarial scenarios. Don’t Think The destination of reasoning tokens is therefore a learned convention: the model is trained to keep scratch work out of the final channel. Trick it into thinking it is in that channel and it may leak tokens. We have even seen older models, when thinking is disabled, reason into the bash tool and echo their thoughts to /dev/null. So in some sense the only “special” behavior for some models is not to think. That at times is done by “mechanically” removing the model’s usual ways to think. In DwarfStar, disabled thinking uses the prefill </think>, while enabled thinking uses <think>, which are the tokens that close and start thinking. GPT-OSS doesn’t prefill but lets the model decide either way on its own. But presumably, some inference APIs prefill the opening token when reasoning is enabled, so the model never samples it itself and might prevent the sampling of the reasoning token when disabled since it can be trivially detected. This may explain why a custom think tool can trick models into putting some reasoning where it should not go — but only when native reasoning is disabled. Fun fact: this blog post triggered safey checks Hilariously enough I was unable to use GPT 5.6 terra for spell and grammar checking on this blog post because of safety filters. Had to switch to Kimi.

A very strange Pi issue sent me down a rabbit hole over the last two days. The short version is that newer Claude models sometimes call Pi’s edit tool with extra, invented fields in the nested edits[] array. And not Haiku or some small model: Opus 4.8. The edit itself is usually correct but the arguments do not match the schema as the model invents made-up keys and Pi thus rejects the tool call and asks to try again. That alone is not too surprising as models emit malformed tool calls sometimes. Particularly small ones. What surprised me is that this is getting worse with newer Anthropic models as both Opus 4.8 and Sonnet 5 show it but none of the older models. In other words, the SOTA models of the family are worse at this specific tool schema than their older siblings. In case you are curious about Fable: I intentionally did not test it because I was not sure if the classifiers they are running might downgrade me to Opus silently. Tool Calls Are Text If you have not spent too much time looking at LLM tool calling internals, the important thing to understand is that tool calls are not magic and use some rather crude in-band signalling. The model receives a transcript, a system prompt and a list of available tools. The server munches that into a large prompt with special marker tokens. Because the model was trained and reinforced on examples of that format, at some point during generation it emits something that the API or client interprets as “call this tool with these arguments”. For a file edit tool, the intended invocation payload might say something like this: { "path": "some/file.py", "edits": [ { "oldText": "text to replace", "newText": "replacement text" } ] } A harness then validates the arguments, performs the edit, and feeds the result back into the model. If validation fails, the model sees an error and usually tries again. How exactly that formatting happens is not known for the Anthropic models, but some people have gotten out “ANTML” markers and they at times do leak also into public communications. To the best of my knowledge, the call above would come out serialized like this from the model: <antml:function_calls> <antml:invoke name="edit"> <antml:parameter name="path">some/file.py</antml:parameter> <antml:parameter name="edits"> [ { "oldText": "text to replace", "newText": "replacement text" } ] </antml:parameter> </antml:invoke> </antml:function_calls> An important thing to note here is that this thing, while looking like XML, is not really XML. It’s just a thing they found convenient to tokenize and train on. The other thing to note is that a basic top-level string parameter appears in-line whereas an array of objects is implemented via JSON serialization. While I’m not entirely sure that this is how it works, there are some indications that this is not too far off. This will become relevant later. There are two very different ways to make the model produce a structure like this: You can ask the model to produce valid JSON matching a schema and then validate it afterwards. You can constrain the sampler so that invalid JSON, or even invalid schema shapes, cannot be sampled in the first place. The second approach is what people usually refer to as grammar-aware or constrained decoding. The sampler masks out tokens that would violate the grammar. If the model is currently inside a JSON object and the schema says only oldText and newText are allowed, the sampler can prevent it from emitting "in_file" or "type". Grammar-aware decoding can be used both to constrain something to be syntactically valid JSON and also to enforce specific enum values or keys. Without any form of constraints the model is merely following a learned convention. The Failure Pi’s edit tool supports multiple exact string replacements in one call. That is why the arguments contain an edits array. In the failing cases the model produces entries like this: { "oldText": "...", "newText": "...", "requireUnique": true } or this: { "oldText": "...", "newText": "...", "oldText2": "", "newText2": "" } Across repeated trials I saw a whole zoo of invented trailing keys: type, id, kind, unique, requireUnique, matchCase, in_file, forceMatchCount, children, notes, cost, oldText2, newText2, oldText_2, newText_2, and even an event.0.additionalProperties key inside the edit object itself. The most annoying part is that the actual oldText and newText payloads were byte-correct in the invalid calls I inspected. The model had in fact produced the right invocation but then added nonsense at the end of the object. The failure is also heavily context-dependent. A fresh single-turn prompt like “edit this file” did not reproduce it at all for me. An agentic history where the model had read files, diagnosed a problem and then composed a multi-line edit could reproduce it. And more annoyingly, not all transcripts will show that behavior. In fact, I needed Petr Baudis‘s transcripts to reproduce this for me at all! In that user’s session continuing the session caused Opus 4.8 to fail around 20% of the time. Stripping thinking blocks from history reduced the failure rate by half. Turning on strict tool invocation eliminated it in my runs. Why It’s Getting Worse My strongest hypothesis is that this is not random deterioration but a training artifact. When older Anthropic models were trained, they were trained on some tools (some of which were documented). But that training did not yet have a user-shipped harness like Claude Code as the obvious target. Modern Anthropic models are most likely different because their post-training includes Claude Code or a harness that looks very similar. The model learns what a successful tool call looks like in that environment. It also learns what mistakes are tolerated by that environment. Claude Code’s own tools are comparatively flat. The ordinary edit tool is not Pi’s nested edits[] shape; it is closer to file_path, old_string, new_string, and an optional flag (replace_all). Looking at Claude Code’s client is very instructive: it contains retry paths for malformed tool use, parameter aliases, type coercions, Unicode repairs and filtering of unknown keys. In other words, Anthropic’s own client appears to expect and accept a fair amount of slop and repairs it, mostly silently. If reinforcement learning happens in a harness like that, or a simulation of one, then slightly malformed tool calls can still complete the task and receive reward. The harness fully absorbs the error and there is little gradient against inventing an alias, adding a stray field or using a nearby parameter name. Worse, the model may become very strongly adapted to the canonical Claude Code edit tool shape. A different harness can present a tool with the same semantic intent but a different schema. Such a tool can increasingly be off-distribution. The better-trained model might actually fight you harder because its prior is stronger. This is not too surprising, but it is a change from how this was a few months ago. When Opus 4.5 launched, it adapted to other edit tools exceptionally well. In fact, I was pretty convinced that we’re on a good path where the models are more likely to adapt to any sort of tool shape that comes around for as long as the instructions are good. Now I’m somewhat worried about the track we’re on here. Alternative tool schemas might not just be unfamiliar. They might be implicitly punished by post-training that optimizes for one particular, forgiving tool ecology. And that ecology is not documented. While there is a text editor tool that is documented, you will see that this format is in fact not followed by Claude Code. What Claude Code does internally (which is a closed-source harness) is hidden from you. The Slop Harness Claude Code is obviously closed-source but we can look at the minified code and get some idea of what it does. And honestly, it’s very forgiving of incoming data. For a start, Claude Code checks the model’s visible text for leaked <invoke markup. It also emits some telemetry when that happens and then it has its own state machine to retry such bad calls by pushing back to the model. It has explicit Unicode escape repair which fixes broken \uXXXX sequences and lone surrogates in string values. It also has per-tool aliases for parameters. For instance, Edit accepts old_str (presumably from the times when the models were trained on the officially documented text editor tool), the newer old_string from the schema, new_str/new_string, path as an alias for file_path, and some more. It also silently filters out unexpected keys and it does not use strict mode either. The issue with strict mode is that Anthropic applies complexity limits to the tool definitions that cause API requests to fail, so presumably that’s why Claude Code does not attempt to use it. Strictness Will this problem be with us in other harnesses too? One huge issue with Anthropic is that the models are completely closed, and so is the harness. Codex models are also closed, but at least the harness is not. We also have gpt-oss which is at least a bit interesting. The models are explicitly trained to use OpenAI’s harmony response format and there is a lot of documentation that at least tells us how OpenAI people think about this. Harmony makes channels and tool-call content types part of the prompt format. A function call can look like this: <|start|>assistant<|channel|>commentary to=functions.get_weather <|constrain|>json<|message|>{"location":"San Francisco"}<|call|> The important bit is <|constrain|>json. The model can express in-band that this message body is JSON, and an inference stack can use that boundary to switch into JSON-constrained sampling for the body of the tool call. Presumably a bit of this also happens in Anthropic’s models, at least in strict mode I would imagine. The marker in harmony helps the sampler to detect when it needs to sample with a specific grammar, and because it is part of the transcript, it makes that rather easy to do. For hosted GPT models, there is also an option to provide a LARK grammar for custom tools that need to adhere to something like this. Anthropic appears different from that, though maybe not entirely. If an array of objects is represented as JSON, as it appears to be, then the model has to write JSON inside the tool parameter. There is probably basic grammar-constrained sampling going on, and that may partly explain the extra keys. For a nested array parameter, that JSON includes escaped multi-line file content inside string literals, inside one tag. The unexpected, made-up keys appear exactly at the highest-entropy point of that task: after closing a several-hundred-token escaped newText string, where the model must decide } vs , "...". As strict mode in Anthropic appears to fix this, I presume that on the server side they are refusing to sample a key that is not permitted by the JSON schema structure. That would also explain why they have limits to the complexity of the tool definitions when strict mode is enabled. So far, the Codex models I tested did not show this type of regression. I tested all available ones except 5.6, which I do not have access to yet. What This Means For Harnesses The uncomfortable lesson is that tool schemas are not neutral, at least not on Anthropic models. We like to pretend that a schema is an abstract contract and the model is a general reasoner that will follow it, but that might no longer be the case for some of the tools. Tool schemas are somewhere in the distribution and some shapes are close to what the model saw during post-training and some are far away. Some are easy for the provider’s hidden encoding (e.g. top-level attributes in ANTML), whereas some require the model to write large escaped JSON objects inside nested arrays after long multiline strings. The model may be smart enough to understand the schema and still be bad at sampling the exact shape under pressure. If this type of model behavior continues, I wonder what the implications for harnesses are. Obviously one could turn on strict sampling in Anthropic and the problem should go away. On the other hand, that the model has this behavior shows the impact that reinforcement learning has on them. Fighting that prior is probably futile if you want to get the best model performance. Right now the reality is that Claude Code is not open source and we cannot really know what they are doing in their RL environments either. We cannot assume Claude-Code-trained behavior will transfer cleanly to your tools unless they are a close match. The more post-training happens inside one dominant harness, the more every other harness will have to inherit its quirks. I used to be more skeptical of strict grammar-constrained tool invocation because constrained decoding can have quality tradeoffs. I still think that can be true in general, but this bug moved my priors significantly. If the newest models get better at solving the task while getting worse at faithfully emitting an alternative tool schema, then the harness needs stronger guarantees somewhere. If you want to find out more, or you want to discuss this, consider reading the issue on the Pi tracker.

There is a strange thing that happens in communities that gather around abstinence from something: identity from opposition. At their best these communities are not just negative: childfree spaces can be about autonomy, choice and acceptance, anti-car spaces about safer streets and transit, and LLM-skeptical developer spaces about the future of labor, code quality and slop1. But the thing being refused often does not go away and instead becomes the main subject of the community’s identity. That would be fine if it stayed at criticism, maybe even angry criticism, but more often than not it turns into policing and hatred towards others. An influencer without children becomes a parent, an urban bike commuter by choice buys a Porsche, a respected developer tries LLMs, and the community feels betrayed because it assumed they were members of the same tribe. The expulsion of that person (who never signed up to be a community member) is entirely imaginary but the punishment that the community unleashes is not: people pile on and shame them, quote them out of context and turn their weakest moments into proof that the person was always unserious, a sharlatan or should not be listened to. I do not think the answer is to tell people to stop paying attention. Cars shape cities even for people who cycle, children influence politics, workplaces and taxes even for people who do not have them. For us developers, LLMs show up in editors, issue trackers, hiring conversations, management pressure and code reviews whether we asked for them or not. Resisting that can be legitimate but that is no excuse for using one’s rejection to justify shitty mob behavior. I understand the thinking all too well, because I have done versions of this myself in the past. It took me a while to become more accepting of other people’s worldviews that diverge from mine. Whatever insecurities we have, finding a group of others sharing them can be comforting. The danger is that being part of a crowd of negativity can easily make us part of collective harassment. I can only encourage you to breathe, slow down, de-escalate when given the chance, and resist the temptation to always assume the most catastrophic reading. Default to being open to new things. Being negative towards something, and making that ones identity, is an easy trap to fall into. These examples are not meant as equivalents. The recent mob against rsync is the LLM version that prompted this post. I picked the others because I’m familiar with those communities and they all show similar cases of personal choices being interpreted as betrayal.↩

Language is constantly evolving, particularly in some communities. Not everybody is ready for it at all times. I, for instance, cannot stand that my community is now constantly “cooking” or “cooked”, that people in it are “locked in” or “cracked.” I don’t like it, because the use of the words primarily signals membership of a group rather than one’s individuality. But some of the changes to that language might now be coming from … machines? Or maybe not. I don’t know. I, like many others, noticed that some words keep showing up more than before, and the obvious assumption is that LLMs are at fault. What I did was take 90 days’ worth of my local coding sessions and look for medium-frequency words where their use is inflated compared to what wordfreq would assume their frequency should be. Then I looked for the more common of these words and did a Google Trends search (filtered to the US). Note that some words like “capability” are more likely going to show up in coding sessions just because of the nature of the problem, so the actual increase is much more pronounced than you would expect. You can click through it; this is what the change over time looks like. Note that these are all words from agent output in my coding sessions that are inflated compared to historical norms: Loading word trend chart… The interactive word trend chart requires JavaScript. Something is going on for sure. Google Trends, in theory, reflects words that people search for. In theory, maybe agents are doing some of the Googling, but it might just be humans Googling for stuff that is LLM-generated; I don’t know. This data set might be a complete fabrication, but for all the words I checked and selected, I also saw an increase on Google Trends. So how did I select the words to check in the first place? First, I looked for the highest-frequency words. They were, as you would expect, things like “add”, “commit”, “patch”, etc. Then I had an LLM generate a word list of words that it thought were engineering-related, and I excluded them entirely from the list. Then I also removed the most common words to begin with. In the end, I ended up with the list above, plus some other ones that are internal project names. For instance, habitat and absurd, as well as some other internal code names, were heavily over-represented, and I had to remove those. As you can see, not entirely scientific. But of the resulting list of words with a high divergence compared to wordfreq, they all also showed spikes on Google Trends. There might also be explanations other than LLM generation for what is going on, but I at least found it interesting that my coding session spikes also show up as spikes on Google Trends. The Rise of LLM Slop The choice of words is one thing; the way in which LLMs form sentences is another. It’s not hard to spot LLM-generated text, but I’m increasingly worried that I’m starting to write like an LLM because I just read so much more LLM text. The first time I became aware of this was that I used the word “substrate” in a talk I gave earlier this year. I am not sure where I picked it up, but I really liked it for what I wanted to express and I did not want to use the word “foundation”. Since then, however, I am reading this word everywhere. This, in itself, might be a case of the Baader–Meinhof phenomenon, but you can also see from the selection above that my coding agent loves substrate more than it should, and that Google Trends shows an increase. We have all been exposed to LLM-generated text now, but I feel like this is getting worse recently. A lot of the tweet replies I get and some of the Hacker News comments I see read like they are LLM-generated, and that includes people I know are real humans. It’s really messing with my brain because, on the one hand, I really want to tell people off for talking and writing like LLMs; on the other hand, maybe we all are increasingly actually writing and speaking like LLMs? I was listening to a talk recording recently (which I intentionally will not link) where the speaker used the same sentence structure that is over-represented in LLM-generated text. Yes, the speaker might have used an LLM to help him generate the talk, but at the same time, the talk sounded natural. So either it was super well-rehearsed, or it was natural. Engage and Farm At least on Twitter, LinkedIn, and elsewhere, there is a huge desire among people to write content and be read. Shutting up is no longer an option and, as a result, people try to get reach and build their profile by engaging with anything that is popular or trending. In the same way that everybody has gazillions of Open Source projects all of a sudden, everybody has takes on everything. My inbox is a disaster of companies sending me AI-generated nonsense and I now routinely see AI-generated blog posts (or at least ones that look like they are AI-generated) being discussed in earnest on Hacker News and elsewhere. Genuine human discourse had already been an issue because of social media algorithms before, but now it has become incredibly toxic. As more and more people discover that they can use LLMs to optimize their following, they are entering an arms race with the algorithms and real genuine human signal is losing out quickly. There are entire companies now that just exist to automate sending LLM-generated shit and people evidently pay money for it. Speed Should Kill If we take into account the idea that the highest-quality content should win out, then the speed element would not matter. If a human-generated comment comes in 15 minutes after a clanker-generated one, but outperforms it by being better, then this whole LLM nonsense would show up less. But I think that LLM-generated noise actually performs really well. We see this plenty with Open Source now. Someone builds an interesting project, puts it on GitHub and within hours, there are “remixes” and “reimplementations” of that codebase. Not only that, many of those forks come with sloppy marketing websites, paid-for domains, and a whole story on socials about why this is the path to take. I have complained before that Open Source is quickly deteriorating because people now see the opportunity to build products on top of useful Open Source projects, but the underlying mechanics are the same as why we see so much LLM slop. Someone has a formed opinion (hopefully) at lunch, and then has a clanker-made post 3 minutes later. It just does not take that much time to build it. For the tweets, I think it’s worse because I suspect that some people have scripts running to mostly automate the engagement. And surely, we should hate all of this. These low-effort posts, tweets, and Open Source projects should not make it anywhere. But they do! Whatever they play into, whether in the algorithms or with human engagement, they are not punished enough for how little effort goes into them. Friction and Rate Limiting That increases in speed and ease of access can turn into problems is a long-understood issue. ID cards are a very unpopular thing in the UK because the British are suspicious of misuse of a central database after what happened in Nazi Germany. Likewise the US has the Firearm Owners Protection Act from 1986, which also bans the US from creating a central database of gun owners. The gun-tracing methodologies that result from not having such a database look like something out of a Wes Anderson movie. We have known for a long time that certain things should not be easy, because of the misuse that happens. We know it in engineering; we know it when it comes to governmental overreach. Now we are probably going to learn the same lesson in many more situations because LLMs make almost anything that involves human text much easier. This is hitting existing text-based systems quickly. Take, for instance, the EU complaints system, which is now buckling under the pressure of AI. Or take any AI-adjacent project’s issue tracker. Pi is routinely getting AI-generated issue requests, sometimes even without the knowledge of the author. Trust Erosion and Gaslighting I know that’s a lot of complaining for “I am getting too many emails, shitty Twitter mentions, and GitHub issues.” I really think, though, that now that we know that it’s happening, we have to change how we interact with people who are increasingly automating themselves. Not only do they produce a lot of shitty slop that we all have to sit through; they are also influencing the world in much more insidious ways, in that they are influencing our interactions with each other. The moment I start distrusting people I otherwise trust, because they have started picking up LLM phrasing, it erodes trust all over society. You also can’t completely ban people for bad behavior, because some of this increasingly happens accidentally. You sending Polsia spam to me? You’re dead to me. You sending me an AI-generated issue request and following up with an apology five minutes later? Well, I guess mistakes happen. Yet, in many ways, what is going on and will continue to go on is unsettling. I recently talked with my friend Ben who said he forced someone to call him to continue a conversation because he was no longer convinced he was talking to a human. Not all of us have been exposed to the extreme cases of this yet, but I had a handful of interactions in which I questioned reality due to the behavior of the person on the other side. I struggle with this, and I consider myself to be pretty open to new technologies and AI in particular. But how will my children react to stuff like this? My mother? I have strong doubts that technology is going to solve this for us. Suggestions for Change The reason I don’t think technology is going to solve this for us is that while it can hide some spam and label some generated text, it won’t fix us humans. What is being damaged here are social interactions across the board: the assumption that when someone writes to you, there is a person on the other side who has put some care into the interaction. I would rather have someone ghost me or reject me than send me back some AI-generated slop. Change has to start with awareness and an unfortunate developmend is that LLMs don’t just influence the text we rea and influence the text we write, even when we don’t use htem. Given the resulting ambiguity, we need to become more aware of how easily we can turn into energy vampires when we use agents to back us up in interactions with others. Consider that every time someone reads text coming from you, they will have to increasingly have to make a judgement call if it was you, or an LLM or you and an LLM that produced the interaction. Transparency in either direction, when there is ambiguity, can help great lengths. When someone sends us undeclared slop, we need to change how we engage with them. If we care about them, we should tell them. If we don’t care about them, we should not give them visibility and not engage. When it comes to creating platforms and interfaces where text can be submitted, we need to throw more wrenches in. The fact that it was cheap for you to produce does not make it cheap for someone else to receive, and we need to find more creative ways to increase the backpressure. GitHub or whatever wants to replace it, will have a lot to improve here and some of which might be going against it’s core KPIs. More engagement is increasingly the wrong thing to look at if you want a long term healthy platform. Whatever we can do to rate-limit social interactions is something we should try: more in-person meetings, more platforms where trust has to be earned, and maybe more acceptance that sometimes the right response is no response at all. And as for AI assistence on this blog, I have an AI transparency disclaimer for a while. In this particular blog post I used Pi as an agent to help me generate the dynamic visualization and I use the agent to write the code to analyze and scrape Google Trends.