I’m working on a project and recently found myself at the CIA’s website (as one does). After finding the information I needed I was about to leave when a link caught my eye. Spy Kids. What, I wondered, would the CIA use to appeal to children?
Answer: stories and games.
Well, I had to check that out.
Next thing I knew, I’d lost a considerable amount of time playing with codes.
It turns out that ChatGPT is magic at some codes, and spectacularly bad at others. The key seems to be in knowing which is which.
Yesterday, I gave my mother an appliance-related pep talk. Their fridge was making an ugly sound, but they managed to fix it, yay.)
Today, our dryer threw in the towel. Literally, as in, no matter how many times we ran the thing, the towels (and sheets, and shorts, and socks) refused to dry. Ruh-ro.
Enter Mr. Man. Trusty voltmeter in hand, he forged into the depths of the laundry room and after a valiant battle, emerged victorious. (For definitions of “victorious” that involve 3–5 day shipping of replacement parts.) The heating coil had snapped, so it was perhaps unsurprising that it could no longer perform its function.
So it was a no-writing day. Still, while the day was a bit of a wash (heh), it’s looking up!
I started multiple posts today (mackerel? Winnie the Pooh? cracking CIA kiddie codes?) but none seemed quite right. I think I’ll go shovel some snow and see if that gets my mind going.
In the meantime, here’s a piece about the usefulness of science fiction in the nonfictional world.
Science fiction can help the science policy community envision both where we end up as well as how we get there. As our social-technological problems grow ever more complex, we need a range of stories that spans the human experience and even beyond. How will we leverage new tools to improve equity and democracy in society? Science fiction can help us imagine future possibilities, opening not just our minds but our hearts as well.
The leading edge of a weather system is overhead, and we’ve been told to expect snow, sleet, a wintry mix, and a heavy dose of freezing rain. Fun, right?
I’m optimistic that our heat and power will hold out, but on the off chance that it does not, I’m going to charge my devices, start the fireplace, and post today’s entry now.
Just in case.
“All you have to do is to pay attention; lessons always arrive when you are ready, and if you can read the signs, you will learn everything you need to know in order to take the next step.”
I am pleased to announce that the new edition of Polar Borealis is out, and it includes “A Needle Pulling Thread.”
I wrote the story in 2018 but the themes of humanity and hope still strike a chord. My thanks to editor R. Graeme Cameron, who remains dedicated to furthering the cause of Canadian speculative fiction, and congratulations to all those in the issue.
Poems by Roxanne Barbour, Rodolfo Boskovic, Carlyn Clink, Robert Dawson, Catherine Girczyc, Jim Smith, Richard Stevenson, and Dean Wirth.
Stories by Warren Brown, Victoria K. Martin, J.R. Johnson (hey, that’s me), Cathy Smith, Rhea E. Rose, Jacqueline Thorpe, Gerald L. Truscott, and David Wiseman.
It’s like this: I have a whole folder titled 365, full of interesting and informative ideas for this blog. I even had an idea for the post I wanted to do today, but lo (for various reasons involving day job bureaucracy for both myself and Mr Man), ’tis not to be. Instead, I give you ChatGPT’s idea of “a quote about joy in the voice of my cat.”
“Joy is found in the simple things, like a warm sunbeam, a cozy napping spot, and a good belly rub. Purr-fect happiness is just a whisker’s length away.”
— Your Cat.
Because this is the sort of information that everyone needs.
For more on cats and whiskers:
* You may also know that “chat” is French for cat. So now we know what’s really behind A.I…. that’s right, animal intelligence.
Some things take longer than expected. Today’s plan involved a project that was expected to take two hours, and instead took five. And that’s ok. Mr Man was productive, I was social, and a good time was had by all.
In keeping with the theme, we picked up the mail on the way home and found a postcard that had made its way here to Canada from Port Lockroy, in the British Antarctic Territory (how cool is that?). Dated Thanksgiving Day, November 24, 2022.
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