In the long run, this makes for very interesting rhetorical analysis of the work.
Your example of Braveheart, for instance, involves two views of the past through the lens of the _present_. So even in that context, both of those views are tinted by the experience and environment of the observer.
I hope so. Random accusations of "this feels like AI" don't add anything to the conversation and are genuinely harmful to those accused when there is no AI involved.
AI has it's demons, for sure, but there is an awful lot of jumping at ghosts these days.
I would consider it more of a necessary evil than a flaw. Both the writer and the audience need to be able to connect with the story, and you're just going to have a better connection if it feels more familiar to you.
It's a construct that long predates AI. And using it with such intensity and frequency is more likely a sign that this _wasn't_ AI generated, since AI writing tends to _not_ repeat things quite so often.
I doubt a human would use it repetitively, even if it is common. This was most likely written paragraph-by-paragraph by AI, causing the repetition, if I had to guess.
I can't wait for the EU AI Act to require mandatory labelling for AI-generated content.
Just a note, because I think the footer might be confusing: this essay was written by just one person. There are 24 essays each year, each one written by a different anonymous contributor.
Well, I had to write it down, but I have to write down everything these days. But from the way the problem was phrased, it was obvious you don;t have to actually find to numbers.
Unlike Linux, MacOS, and Windows, which are all completely finished.
But also: most of the work of an OS is supporting a variety of hardware. That's not very intellectually interesting work. Hardware is usually hacky, and since was only ever tested against the manufacturer's driver code, the only way to use it reliably is to slavishly follow their usage.
My first instinct was to think this was satire and I exuded a chuckle.
My second instinct was a brief moment of panic where I worried that it might NOT be satire, and a whole world of horror flashed before my eyes.
It's okay, though. I'm better now. We're not in that other world yet.
But, for a nanosecond or two, I found myself deeply resonating with the dysphoria that I imagine plagued Winston Smith. I think I may just need to sit with that for a while.
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