Nick of Time

Just a little late for Halloween, I've got a scary blogpost for you. Travel with me to a town just on the edge of the Twilight Zone, where William Shatner nearly misses becoming the latest victim of a large language model... The story starts, as many stories do, in my childhood. I convinced my younger brother that I could speak with his Squirtle Pokémon card by flipping a coin and interpreting the answer. By the end of an afternoon, he was in tears, convinced that his Squirtle card didn't like him. Still, he felt compelled to keep asking it questions. Only my mother's intervention saved him from more sibling inflicted pain. Many years later, I was in college, and dealing with all the stressful uncertainties that such a time brings. My roommate and I decided to consult an online magic 8 ball as a fun way to answer our questions. Those were the good old days when you could still frequently find people's small coding projects served out of their home directories with a tilde. We found…

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