Combatting the end of wonder

Remember 2022, the golden era of the internet? Back then, a reel popped up on my Instagram feed. Security footage captured a man sitting on a Target-ball in front of a store—one of those large red concrete balls spaced in front of Target’s glass entryway. They make smash-and-grab rammings nearly impossible. In the footage, an out-of-control car slammed into the ball next to where the man sat. The ball caromed into the ball beneath the man, knocked it away like a billiard ball, and the new ball stopped directly beneath the man’s butt. One ball replaced the other. The man barely reacted. He probably didn’t even know he was sitting on a new ball yet.

“Whoa!” I watched it again and again. I couldn’t see any evidence that it was fake. Convinced, I shared it with my family. Real life is better than fiction. I love stuff like this. Loved! In 2022, I could watch it all day. That’s in the past now. Today, when something seems unbelievable, I assume it’s Artificial Intelligence.

adams county library

Recently, I saw a video on Facebook. A grizzly draped itself over a car. It inadvertently pushed the car down the road as it tried to find a good angle to lick spilled food off the car hood. Horns blared, the bear huffed, the car struggled under the added weight. Even the camera angle looked legit, as if the photographer tried to keep an extra car between themselves and the bear. Everything appears legit, but the bear is too big, even for a grizzly. It’s as big as the car.

Here’s the thing. The grizzly video could be authentic. Maybe grizzlies actually grow that big. What do I know? I’m a city-guy from Washington, DC. But it no longer matters. I can’t tell the difference between real and fake anymore. And if it isn’t real, what’s the point? The video isn’t exciting if Google Veo thought it up. It’s impressive that AI has advanced so far since ChatGPT’s splashy release a few years ago, but it has ruined the magic of the unbelievable. It has put an end to wonder.

Will I ever be stunned by a photograph again? A list of some of the greatest, most recognizable photos in American history—Lunch atop a Skyscraper; Napalm Girl; V-J Day in Times Square; Afghan Girl. When the next world-changing photograph is published, will we even know if it’s real? Will an artist capture a unique and beautiful (or terrible) moment in time, or will a clever AI app simply generate something sure to stir the emotions in those idiotic humans who keep the electricity running?

As if to put an exclamation point on this thought, just before bed last night, I saw a tornado reel on Facebook. Tornados fascinate me. The raw, focused power makes the ‘finger of God’ analogy I’ve heard since childhood the most appropriate descriptor. The tornado in this video was a monster, ever approaching the camera as it tore a swath across the barren countryside. It’s exactly the sort of video I would watch repeatedly, mesmerized by the awful beauty of nature. Instead, I gave my head a quick shake and swiped to watch Anatoly prank another room full of muscle heads.

AI has its place in our world, but unless its use is properly notated, it can be misleading or even fraudulent. The Adams County Library System recently created an AI Use Policy to guide employees in ethical use of AI. When interacting with the library, if something we distribute contains a substantive use of AI, it will be labeled as such. ACLS’s core values are excellence, trustworthiness, and stewardship. We strive to uphold these standards at all times. This includes transparency when incorporating Artificial Intelligence tools and content into our work.

Jeff Cann is Finance Director for the Adams County Library System.

Jeff Cann

Jeff Cann lives, works, and writes in Gettysburg Pennsylvania. His essays and stories have appeared in Like the Wind magazine, the Good Men Project, and other websites exploring mental health, running and culture. His two books, Fragments: a Memoir and Bad Ass - My Quest to Become a Back Woods Trail Runner (and other obsessive goals) can be purchased from Amazon. Jeff is married with two adult children. When he isn’t working or writing, he can be found biking or running the roads and wooded trails surrounding Gettysburg, trudging to and from work with his Spotify playlist cranked to eleven, or reading novels and biographical essays. Additional essays and stories can be found at www.jefftcann.com.

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