Exploring the Future...until we get there

Author: G2 (Page 2 of 10)

Vandalizing Robots

Just finished reading an interesting article by Sara Harrison with Wired Magazine titled Of Course Citizens Should Be Allowed to Kick Robots (link below). The title alone was a real eye grabber, and I thought the article was terrific.

Basically, it endorses the idea that we, as citizens, should be able to physically abuse robots when we see them out “in the wild” as Harrison puts it. Not all robots, necessarily, just the ones that are intimidating, like those that provide security for their clients, recording such data as license plate numbers, and the comings and goings of people in the vicinity it patrols.

Harrison’s beef with this type of robot seems to be that it is imposing itself on us, the citizens, making us self-conscious about our actions, normal and law-abiding though they may be. The data the robot collects is provided to the client who pays for this mobile camera service, and can be used by that client in any way it sees fit.

I understand Harrison’s thoughts on this matter, although I’m not sure if her angst is only concerned with security robots, or with many other elements of modern society that seem equally intrusive, like law enforcement being able to read my license plate in the parking lot where I’m shopping.

Or security cameras tracking my every move as I progress through the shopping mall, or the city, and probably even the country.

Or Google tracking my whereabouts even when I think I’ve expressly asked them not to.

Or face recognition software reading my features and identifying me and those I’m with.

Or maybe my smart speaker assistant listening to my private conversations when it’s not supposed to (I don’t have a Siri or Alexa, and no plans to get one anytime soon).

I never knew I was so interesting to so many people. In fact, I’m not. I’m simply part of the landscape where everyone everywhere is being monitored all the time for our own safety and security. Such explanations have never worked in my privacy-centric mind, and are really just an end-run around the real goal of governments and private enterprises across the planet-monitoring its citizens all the time for no other purpose than to control. The more you know about me, the more you can manipulate me.

That being said, how is punching the robot different from say, punching the police officer who is hassling me for no apparent reason? I would go to jail. What about shooting out a security cam? Again, if caught, I would go to jail. The robot belongs to somebody, and was, no doubt, expensive to make. If you get caught vandalizing the robot, you will…again…go to jail.

So is recommending that we punch the robot because we find it intrusive the same thing as recommending that we punch the police officer because we also find him intrusive? Obviously not. What’s the key difference? One is an inanimate object, the other a human.

But, then why do so many others among us already feel a certain kind of empathy for the robot who is being kicked or pushed off balance, or otherwise abused by humans? Enter the rise of robot ethics (yeah, it’s already a thing). As the robots are designed to look more and more like us (or something that at least functions as a bi-ped and has a head and appendages), and as their AI advances at an astonishing pace, not only will we have to review the laws on the book with regard to causing harm, one human to another, but also create new laws that deal with the harm that can be caused by a robot to a human, or a human to a robot.

Perhaps a whole new branch of law will develop to address this very new and unfamiliar territory.

In the meantime, you won’t catch me doing any vandalizing of any robots. I’d be the guy who gets caught in the act on tape. No, if anything, I’d be the one to defend the stupid thing, knowing in my gut that the future holds something more surprising than anything we could ever expect. Basic rights for the bots. Citizenship will not be far behind.

Didn’t Sophia already get that?

Links

Wired Magazine Article

Wikipedia Article about Sophia

471 – Hadrian

Relating to post 470 – The Art of Memory, I chose Hadrian as my final historical figure to add to my memory list as I transition to an entirely different approach to my bizarre hobby.

Whereas before, I had decided to include no one who had been born after my own birth year (since they would be considered my contemporaries, not historical personalities), I will now flip flop that idea to include on my list, as well, persons who are alive or only recently deceased. Nor will they be ordered based on birth date, but, rather, in a manner that makes the most sense in terms of memorization.

Spot the Tenacious Robot Dog

If you ever want to make a tenuous connection between seemingly disparate elements in a world of loosely connected AI ideas, do this:

Watch the Boston Dynamics videos of the robot dog (or dogs tag-teaming the task, depending on which video you watch) opening a door without assistance on YouTube. Admire the tenacity of these guys (yes, I’m guilty of anthropomorphism, but it’s all I can do when it comes to reacting to anything robotic that has been purposefully designed to evoke emotional responses from human beings by mimicking physiology that is familiar to me).

Their focus, their determination, is impressive, even more so when being forcibly opposed by a human “handler” (no doubt a developer or engineer testing the integrity of the software). Closely study the complexity of moves involved in the robot achieving its goal of, first grabbing the door knob, then turning it, then pulling on the knob, then parking a foreleg in front of the door so that it will not again close while the dog’s mouth-like claw then swivels around and further opens the door so that the rest of its robot body can make its way through. If you’re not astounded, maybe a bit mortified, you should be.

Next, after watching these disturbing and intriguing videos, read through the comments…all of them…and see what your responses are to the responses. How many comments sympathize with the robot, how many with the human? Are you surprised? Terrified by what you read? Fascinated? Is it a mixed bag of dread and fear that a robot apocalypse may be coming coupled with longing and hope that maybe everything will turn out okay?

Now go to Wikipedia’s article entitled Existential risk from artificial general intelligence and carefully read through the warnings. There are many. As with the comments that accompany the YouTube videos, also comb through the references this article has used to build its content. It is also impressive.

It’s not just you. Many are kept awake at night by the scenarios that abound, some of which will surely come to pass.

Now, go find an engineer involved with AI (any engineer will do) and have them look you in the eye while reassuring you that there’s nothing for us to worry about. Make sure he doesn’t blink in his response.

Links:

YouTube videos

Wikipedia Article

Elon Musk

It’s an understatement to say that Elon Musk has numerous irons in the fire at any given time. What we want to explore in this post is the one that has resulted from, or is at least based on, Mr. Musk’s provocative statements regarding Artificial Intelligence (AI) and the need for humans to interface and integrate with it at the physiological level. According to Musk, brain implants are thought to be a logical route to achieve such integration, and the way to get there is the iron in the fire called Neuralink.

Musk, along with several other investors, founded the company Neuralink in 2016, with the short-term goals of the organization revolving around the idea of treating diseases of the brain. The longer-term goals involve creating brain implants that will result in a symbiotic relationship between the human brain and AI. If we are to survive in a world where AI has become superior to Homo sapiens in most, if not all, areas of intelligence, Musk insists that we, us obsolescing humans, must begin exploring the idea of brain implants. The very idea is the stuff of dystopian science fiction.

Although there are certainly many aspects of this most serious of pursuits to consider, one quite intriguing component of brain-AI interface is the idea that, as we begin talking about introducing changes to the inherent physiological landscape of the human brain, we are possibly confronted with an event in human evolution from which we cannot return.

What does it mean, after all, in terms of evolution and the future of the human species, to say that we are embarking on the very alteration of the human brain’s fabric for the express purpose of preventing annihilation by AI? We can’t possibly be fully prepared for such pursuits. Although, to be fair, nor are we in any way prepared for the potential of AI to surpass human civilization, or, at the very least, to control every aspect of it.

Musk operates in the world as a bit of a lightning rod when it comes to disruptive technologies, such as electric automobiles (Tesla), rockets (SpaceX), tunnel construction (The Boring Company), and the (so far) ill-fated idea of the hyperloop.

When visionaries are well-stocked with funding dollars, as Musk most certainly is, amazing things can happen. With regard to Neuralink, we’ll have to wait and see. In some ways, however, it’s not so important that the company is successful or not; it’s the idea that the effort is being made in the first place. Surely an inevitable result will be more startups formed with this and other terrifying and tantalizing ideas in mind. Unintended consequences will undoubtedly occur. I, for one, can’t wait.

Transhuman Meets Climate Change

Interesting times we’re living in, right? One camp constantly reminding us that we’re running out of time, that Climate Change is coming for us all, that our rebellious little planet will soon kick us clean off her surface for causing such chaos and upheaval to her delicately balanced systems.

Cut to another camp, equally vehement in its insistence that the technological wonders now upon us will soon revolutionize the human species as we know it. “Don’t worry,” members of this camp scream, all is well, all is fixable, technology can and will conquer all problems, even those presented by Climate Change and its enormous threats to our continued tenancy within Mother Earth’s domain.

Who’s right, who’s wrong? Who’s to say? In the meantime, as a guy who is quite interested in how this is all going to play out, the avenues that we can explore together on this blog are just about endless.

What’s most interesting to consider is how the participants in this breathless race to the finish line are influenced by one another. On the one hand, we have Mr. and Mrs. Tranhuman, participants who fully endorse the idea that the human genome is outdated, that it can and should be altered, transformed, enhanced with something superior to it in every way. Bigger, faster, stronger, smarter. Humans have worn out their welcome. It’s time for an upgrade, and maybe even an outright replacement.

On the other hand, we have Mr. and Mrs. Climate Change, advocates of the idea that the human genome is never going to get the opportunity to be changed to any meaningful degree, much less altered such that it might be made more capable of coping with the existential threats posed by Climate Change.

Is it possible that neither of these participants in the race are going to take the ribbon? Could an unexpected hybrid participant, something not quite human, but neither something that could be described as a superhuman, might cross the finish line first?

If Climate Change truly does have the potential to wipe us out, then the time required by technological advancements to offer us alternatives is severely limited. Some of the biggest brains on the planet warn us that we are quickly running out of time to do anything of substance, something that might wholly avert, or at least avoid a direct punch to the face, delivered by this heavweight contender called Climate Change.

We should think about where we are as a species, as a civilization, where we’re trying to get to, and how much time we realistically have to get there. So much to explore.

Let’s start with an obvious target – Elon Musk. He will be starring in our next post.

470 – The Art of Memory

Several years ago, I began to dabble in a hobby that involves memorizing lists of items. There is an approach called Method of Loci that grabbed my attention (I won’t go into much explanation about it, since the method’s details can be readily found numerous places online). I realized quickly that I was pretty good at remembering lists of historical figures (you know…like Galileo, Einstein, Eleanor of Aquitaine), so I decided to really give it a go and see how many I could remember. When I got distracted by the busy-ness of life, as we all do, and stopped adding additional characters (you know…like Rembrandt, Kepler, Lincoln) I was up to 470.

It’s now some 15 months later, and I have caught the bug again. Having revisited my previous list, I was initially a bit discouraged by how many holes and gaps had replaced the people who used to reside there. Now, about two weeks after that first revisit, I’m quite encouraged by the fact that the entire list has been firmly re-established in my gray matter. I proved to myself just today (August 9, 2019) that I am once again able to recite all 470 personages with no external memory aids, whatsoever. So, it’s time to start expanding the list again, and it’s always fun to consider who that next person will be.

Hmm, maybe…

INVICTUS by Ryan Graudin

As a follow-up to my post titled Fire Sale, I offer my second update regarding those reading assignments I have handed myself. This, as a way of improving my own science fiction writing pursuits by digesting the efforts of others.

Although it is probably among the best of good writing exercises to provide in-depth critique of other writers’ yarns, I’m certain it’s one I’m no good at, and I’m probably not desirous to become so. It’s enough for me to know internally why I did or did not like a certain book. To communicate those reasons with conviction is the realm of the critic. I’m happily a hesitant stranger there.

Yet, it was undeniably me who said that we should compel ourselves as readers to be honest in our assessments of books, even to the extent of providing written justifications as to why our read was a smash hit or a big stink bomb. That said, I feel compelled to give this an honest shot.

INVICTUS by Ryan Graudin is a fast-paced, perpetually unpredictable romp through time and space aboard the book’s namesake with a claptrap crew of young over-achievers trying to “right their ship” as they also attempt to right past wrongs. As they soon discover, however, no bad deed goes unpunished forever, with more trouble never farther away than the next jump’s horizon.

While stealing valuable relics from civilizations long since perished for a greedy and dangerous black markets dealer, the crew quickly learns that their collective future will forever bump into the misdeeds of an ancient past until a surprise visitor-uninvited, and definitely unwelcome-provides the mind-bending clues they’ll need if they’re to escape a most unfortunate fate.

Everything the ship’s captain and his crew thought they knew about themselves, their past, and their mission will be turned on its head.

**

Graudin is a powerful writing talent. With great plot twists and turns, beautiful command of the written word, teenage emotions dripping off nearly every page, and imaginative settings I could envision in my head, she kept this reader mostly well-invested. She pulled me in strong with her opening scenes and I was off to the races. As I mentioned, the pace was breakneck, and probably a bit too much so for me (this coming from a guy who requires that plot move along briskly to stay interested in the story).

Better put, perhaps it wasn’t the pace so much as the details packed into that pace. And because of that ever-increasing mental burden, I felt the cantering story slowly leaving me further behind with every chapter.

I always try to imagine what a book’s tale might look like on the big screen. I threw this one up on the silver and, in my mind’s eye, it seemed to come off pretty well…until I envisioned the director attempting to translate in footage that stickiest of widgets in fiction-Time Travel. Trust me, this tale gets very involved, very quickly. Many passages required a double back by me, just to be sure I understand the intricacies of the tech.

In the end, and literally toward the very end, where I should have been exhilarated in the turn of each new page, I found myself actually a bit fatigued. Ultimately, I burned out, pulling up lame before concluding the last few pages. I’m not sure why, though I have my suspicions, and I believe the fault may be as much in my court as it is in Graudin’s.

The teenage chitchat became too tedious for this old man. And I didn’t swoon where I was probably expected to (again, I’m not the author’s target audience, so swooning at my age is just hard on the knees). Some of the later scenes-piling up on top of one another like the wardrobe-strewn time machine that served as home-away-from-home for these swashbuckling amateurs-became too bursting with emotion-filled longing for love’s first kiss. And the unknowns that were racking up, as well, began to make my head spin.

In the end, the dizziness induced by this adventurous race against time demanded that I dismount while I could still look back at all that ground I’d covered and not feel too much regret for failing to cross the finish line. The plot line was a lot to take on, and probably more than enough for me. I was disappointed to find that I was not in need of yet more INVICTUS adventure.

So yes, not so memorable characters (Eliot was by far my favorite), some interesting tidbits from history (with a particular focus on the Titanic and ancient Rome), inspired, imaginative, extremely well-thought out plot that I personally was never able to fully understand (again-Time Travel…requires suspension of disbelief through and through, and especially from someone who readily acknowledges he’s not the sharpest tool in the shed).

One problem for me might stem from the fact that I cannot properly decide if INVICTUS is primarily character-driven, or plot-driven, since it seems to possess an even measure of both. Is that a good thing? Possibly. For me, however, the author who can captivate me by hooking me, reeling me in slowly, steadily, revealing ever-deepening recesses of each character’s personality, motivations, and best-kept secrets-she’s the one I’m going to follow.

I think Graudin might have better scratched my reader’s itch had she shown me yet more of Farway, Gram, Priya, and even the bad guy, Lux. Even if this meant sacrificing an action-packed scene or two.

Then again, as I’ve already mentioned, I’m not Graudin’s target reader, and perhaps the level of personal backgrounds she afforded her story’s main actors was just about right for a target reader a third my age.

On a scale of 1-10, with 10 being stellar, I would rate this mostly solid read as a strong 7, and would definitely recommend it to the children’s children of friends and family.

Hard – Science Fiction

As a follow-up to my post titled Fire Sale, I offer my first update regarding those reading assignments I have handed myself. This, as a way of improving my own science fiction writing pursuits by digesting the efforts of others. I’m only somewhat pleased to relay (because I realize now that choosing so many books at one time was probably overly ambitious) that I have finished exactly one. If I’m reading, I’m not writing…a conundrum I must accept and conquer, heartburn be damned.

Carbide Tipped Pens is an anthology of seventeen short stories, collaboratively put together by Ben Bova and Eric Choi. Mr. Bova I fondly remember from his days at OMNI magazine some decades ago, and the sole reason I selected this book (name-recognition). I should include that for a young teenager longing for good reads over sometimes boring summer vacations, a subscription to OMNI, with a fresh issue arriving in the family mailbox each month, was about as magical as it gets.

After diving into one or two stories, I realized rather abruptly that I probably should have left this title on the shelf. Certainly not because of the stories, which are just fine. The problem, I’ve discovered, lies in my court. I wasn’t careful enough when selecting to realize that this one is stuffed full of “hard science fiction.” Took me no time at all to notice that I’m not a big fan.

Right now, I’m looking at the titles of all seventeen stories as they appear in the Table of Contents, trying to decide which ones best held my interest. Of those (almost 400 pages worth), perhaps only three mostly fit my reading style and interests. Of those, perhaps two were satisfying for the most part. And perhaps only one thoroughly entertained me from start to finish. The remainders proved to be difficult reading for me, not because it was uninspired writing, but because the plots left me feeling uninvested.

Not that I don’t like science as much as the next guy. I certainly do. That is, if the next guy isn’t too serious about it all, doesn’t get all hung up about the feasibility of the physics, and isn’t too bothered by dialog that, at times, feels like stilted conversations between engineers arguing over the finer points of unproven theories that are a bit beyond, if not his mental prowess, at least his reading stamina. Ignoring such indiscretions meant that only a small percentage of these shorts held enough entertainment value to keep me from scanning and skipping forward.

Short stories, more so than formats that have the luxury of time (read word count), must draw a reader in super quickly. If their whole plot only spans perhaps 20-30 pages, reader interest has to be established in the first precious paragraphs of page one.

It makes sense, then, to dwell on that very quality-“reader interest”-for just a moment. What is it that creates this thing in us, this desire, this yearning to know more? As we consume more stories over the years, we will come to know what kind of stuff draws us in quickly, then holds us in a stranglehold for the duration. We will also recognize those genres that may or may not hold us within their grasp as we do our level best to remain focused, giving the story a fair shake, so to speak.

And certainly, we will also come to know well what simply never trips our trigger, no matter how many soft fluffy cushions and delightful snacks we pile high around ourselves.

Such is probably the case for “hard science fiction” and me. Too much science, not enough fiction. It’s not likely that the hard stuff will ever become my good buddy; nor will we likely hang out together on the weekends. Just not a good fit.

The lesson I’ve learned is that reading is a journey of self-discovery, an exploration of one’s own palate, a refinement of its likes and dislikes as we invest our precious time in the experience, caring enough to acknowledge what gives us joy and satisfaction, and what does not. If something’s not clicking, don’t think of it as wasted time. Think of it as something newly realized about your own personal preferences. That’s a good thing!

If you want to throw a book against a wall, ask yourself why, then take the time to offer up a sincere answer. If you refuse to go to bed at a reasonable hour because you simply can’t put the thing down, again demand a reason. Write things down, make them stick.

In my case, I know I like action, suspense, plot twists, interesting characters, unexpected conclusions, themes that hold personal meaning for me. I won’t read something that is otherwise uninteresting simply because I’m supposed to care about the theme according to society. I’m selfish that way, and I hope you are, too. Diversity and divergence are expected. What you love I might shun. What I embrace you might reject.

So it goes.

I won’t dwell on what I didn’t like about Carbide Tipped Pens. And I won’t tell you which of these stories I liked best. I will share with you the reasons behind embracing what I did: superior character development, fast pace, lots of scene changes, interesting settings, plot twists, beautiful prose, tragedy, death, and all the rest. It’s a wonderful thing to see all the qualities of a good story done well. Nothing beats good writing. Nothing trumps a satisfying read. And if it takes sixteen so so reads to get to that one brilliant find, so be it (next time, however, I’ll be more careful in my selections).

Now go write! Or go read…something.

Inspiration

Many of the writer’s reference books I read frequently now suggest that every serious writer should be gathering ideas for stories nearly all the time. The authors of these books say that inspiration can strike nearly anywhere, and at nearly anytime. We should be ready to receive this spark when it happens, since the same idea might never visit us again.

Some of the books even offer methods for encouraging the muse to come and sit on one’s shoulder, murmuring in the ear of the would-be-novelist as she meditates in the living room, takes a long soak in the tub, or sits idling in traffic on her long commute back home from work.

I’ve always had ideas come to me while communing with Nature. A leisurely walk in the park will surely trigger a flash or two of insight, as well as biking, walking, kayaking, or just sitting quietly on the back porch while the breeze blows through the trees and the birds sing me into a nap with their happy little songs.

Such was the case today while I was outside for several hours, engaged in the intensely laborious task of mowing my weeds. I have about an acre and a half, much of which could be categorized as mangy and feral. I had actually lived on my property for several years before stepping foot on much of it, some areas so thick with trees, bushes, brambles, and thorny things, that I was simply unable to penetrate there. A few years ago, I was motivated to clear some paths. This is an excerpt from a post I made on this blog in October 2016 titled Backyard Playground (my daughter came up with the trail names):

“It is only very recently that I set foot on parts of my own property, simply by deciding that I would cut through the undergrowth (along with the overgrowth and middlegrowth, if those terms can properly describe the thick mass of vegetation that crept and hung and tangled its way across my path from head to toe). Now, after several weekends of effort, we have forged, for our walking pleasure, trails with the following names…Deer Run, Walking Stick, Three Sentinels, Armadillo Hideaway, Picky Vine, Knife Fork and Spoon, Brown Bench, and one or two more. I blazed two of the last ones today (Sunday), before deciding that the look and feel of the place is just about right for now.”

Hurricane Michael roared through our neighborhood two years later, and it is only just now, in April of 2019 (six full months after the life-altering destruction) that I have ventured back onto my trails to clear them out once again. The task has been anything but easy.

But let’s not get side-tracked. We’re talking about inspiration here, and not the kind that drives a person to wage war against jungles that spring up on the sides of country roads, but the stuff that drives writers to create best-selling novels.

There was an episode today, and a comical one at that, during which I stepped into a hole about a foot deep, knocking myself off balance. Skittering sideways, I crashed into the stump of one of the trees that had probably been laid low by the storm. My ribs took the brunt of the impact, causing me to relinquish my grip on the handle of the mower I had been using to gain some leverage against the fall. On my way down, and with the handle of the mower now on its way up, I got cracked on the chin with an upper cut that caused my teeth to clap together, forcing me to call out in pain. The mower having gone silent, suddenly I was surrounded by the buzz of nature. My head felt full as I lay there on the ground, wincing at the abruptness of it all, thankful I wasn’t hurt too badly, surprised that I was on the verge of laughter.

I read somewhere that Mike Tyson once said, “Everybody’s got a plan until they get punched in the face.” In that moment, Mike seemed very wise to me.

In the meantime, I had knocked my glasses off, and was unable to find them, try as I might. As I hoofed it back to the house to ask for my wife’s assistance (and who would surely have something to say about my ongoing habit for inflicting physical pain on myself for no apparent reason), I realized something rather happily. I had come up with an idea for a story! My altered view of Nature, blurry in the extreme, made me realize that I, my house, the paths I had re-established, and everything all around this quaint little rural scene was constantly and steadily being inundated with green. If I did nothing to keep it all pushed back, in a year the house would be impinged upon by the foliage. By three, it would be half-overtaken. In five to seven, the structure would be well on its way to being overrun by the rightful earth-bound dwellers of the place.

And thus came about my inspiration for my latest apocalyptic story – “Creaking.” Humanity is going to be done in by Nature, and it will be at the hand of the foliage Mother sends to do her dirty work. I can’t begin to tell you how many ideas came swirling into my brain as a result of this very temporary stroll down my walkway, surrounded by these great big blobs of green, clumped together and coming at me from above, below, and every side. In this cheerful little tale, Gaia will rid herself of at least a size-able portion of her most invasive species-us. It will be a real mind-bender. I’m laying out the plot lines as we speak.

Look for inspiration. Write down your ideas as they come to you. Be on the look out no matter where you are or what you are doing. Keep the best ones. Develop one or two. Make them into something beyond just a quick moment of inspiration that you just as quickly forget. These lightbulb moments came to you for a reason. Honor them by paying attention and exploring where they might take you next.

This is all the difference between those who write and those who dream about writing. Make it happen!

Fire Sale

Terms of Lease can be something you definitely want to read carefully before signing on the dotted line. Who would think that the renter of an office space in an outlet mall would be held as the responsible party for replacing the rusted a/c hardware on the roof above their square footage to the tune of about fifteen thousand dollars? Unfair? Undoubtedly. Yet, there the owner was, up a creek without a paddle, in a leased storefront with no way to adequately cool it, and with a second blazing hot summer knocking at an already very hot door. The decision was made to close down. Sell everything and sell it fast, before everything buckled under the searing heat of another Florida scorcher.

There was more inventory to drag out than I thought the place could have held. I, myself, held out until the end, refraining for a couple of months’ worth of ever deepening discounts. Once the overly hot establishment finally began to look respectable in its emptiness, I began seriously contemplating my purchases. It wasn’t until just a few days ago when I entered the place, the brisk breeze from several large fans pushing the air around as best they could, that I was finally satisfied with the prices offered. Hardbacks were going for $1 a piece. I bought seventeen of them before stopping myself, lugging myself and my brood out of there, quite proud of what I’d accomplished.

Strangely enough, I haven’t read the works of other sci-fi writers’ all that much, and it’s high time I did. I’m excited to get started. I’ll let you know what I discover.

Keep writing!

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