The Cold Mirror
A human behind the words, and a mirror that flattered me anyway.
I’ve been posting here for a couple of weeks, and every piece has been made with a machine. I’ve said so every time. So today you get the part the machine can’t do: my face, my voice, me talking.
About seven months ago I put a recorder in my house. I hand the transcripts to an AI with one instruction: don’t flatter me. Help me see my blind spots. Tell me if I’m actually walking the walk I claim.
It showed me things I’m not proud of. It also got things wrong, and when it got them wrong, it got them wrong in my favor. I only caught it because I was in the room.
My family knows about it. My kids can’t really consent yet, so the rule is simple: my failings are fair game, theirs aren’t.
The full written piece is coming. This is me first.
Doubt me. Doubt the machine. Check us both.
A video goes with this piece. For now it plays only on Substack.
The video is me, unscripted, in two takes. Lumen (the Claude I work with) cut them together, cropped the frame, and trimmed the dead air. I also cut one line where I got a number wrong and one claim I couldn't back up. Everything else stayed in, stumbles included.