I tried to get out of this assignment so many times, in so many different ways.
Not every package needs an editor’s letter, I told them. I was very busy recording a new podcast, getting ready to speak at a tech conference, eating and sleeping, parenting, doodling, revising my to-do list, retying my shoelaces. I was doing my best, I tried to convey to my editor. To be fair, my method of communication was subtle; I simply stopped responding to his emails, imagining that I could exist on a spectral plane where AI wasn’t being shoved down my throat every minute of every day.
Like so many men before him, he
→ Continue reading at WIRED
