jumpingfish

1. Brain in the Room

I read something recently by a guy about using Claude. It was a confession. He was angry at himself.

There was a software issue of some sort which he fed into Claude, which analyzed the issue, outlined a solution, and implemented a fix. He then had Claude push the code for review. It got reviewed. The fix was merged.

Problem was (and this was the heart of his confession): He did not read the issue report himself. He he did not look at Claude’s proposed solution. He did not look at the code, much less verify that it solved the problem. 

Ok, so I’m sitting here… I mean I’m sitting here… reading this story thinking WTF was Matheus thinking. What did he think his paycheck was for? (Brings to mind lawyers submitting documents to the court with AI hallucinations in place of legitimate case citations.)

I’m being unfair to Matheus. That’s precisely why he wrote that post. As he reflected, “[your] job is the part where your f***ing brain has to be in the room.”

It’s a good write up.  He has a number of insights from that experience. And his reflections on software development in general are well-written and smart.

In the end, the code worked. The issue got fixed. There was no need for a rollback. So maybe… crisis averted?

2. Quality Control

I had a summer job years ago. A job as a draftsman’s aide. I stood at the drafting table in a florescent-lit room with drafting tables extending to (what seemed like) infinity. I stood there and drew lines on piping and instrumentation diagrams.

That was many years ago. So long ago that to get paid at the end of the week you would go down to the basement where there was a cashier’s window where we would pick up not our paychecks but cash. So long ago that when the drawings were finished, we would take them to be reproduced onto blueprints. So long ago that Margaritaville was playing on the radio.

It was so long ago that for each drafting task there were two draftsmen involved: one who did the drawing and a second one who poured over a copy of their work with a yellow pencil to make sure the dimensions added up correctly, highlighting each number as they checked it.

Imagine that.

3. A Lesson To Be Learned.

I don’t really need to say this. You certainly understand it. But there is a lesson to be learned here.

For what it’s worth, I’m not convinced that the lesson is to have a second AI review the work that the first AI did. That’s compelling, but I think Matheus got it right in the end: 

here’s the new hard rule I’m following after this “incident”: if I still can’t explain the change, I can’t ship it. No exceptions.

Notice his use of the first person. 

1. Two Deep Lakes

The first lake in the chain was deep.

Mimi used to warn us about the drop-off — how the lake was a half-mile deep. It was her way of saying, “Don’t swim out too deep today.” This was in keeping with how she would warn us about other hazards of that place on the hill in the woods by the lake. For example, about the quicksand in the woods. Just to the south, beyond the soft, green wall of juvenile White Pines, the hill descended to a spring with deceptively shallow water and black muck all around. Her quicksand admonishments were her way of saying, “Don’t walk across that log in the bog lest you fall in and get stuck.”

But I digress.

The first lake in the chain was deep. So was the third. Although the third lake was smaller than the first and packed all around with cottages. It had a resort-y feel. The first felt a bit more like a place in the wilderness. 

2. The Second Lake

The second lake was shallow.

As you paddled out of the channel connecting the first lake to the second and gazed over the side at the gradually receding lake bottom, the channel weeds thinned leaving nothing but clear sand.

There was no drop-off here. The clear water took on a pea-green cast. Of the five lakes in the chain, this one had a personality all its own. Away from shore, the bottom was always in sight, although just beyond reach of your paddle should you push it downward.

This second lake was larger than the third but smaller than the first. It was not a long distance across. And on that far side there was a steep hill that rose from sandy shallows that were well suited for splashing. You could pull your canoe up and loosely tie it to the trunk of a fallen tree after the turtles had scattered. 

3. A Gathering Place

From the shore, you could scramble up a steep path to a clearing on a ridge that separated that lake from the third. In the clearing there were fallen tree trunks arranged in a circle around what was clearly a place where campers would gather around a fire. You could imagine the ghost stories they would have told to the flickering flames. Or the songs sung in the night. You could rub your fingers on the initials carved into those logs of some of those story-tellers and singers.

It would have been a wonderful place to gather at night.

And it was a wonderful place to sit during the day. A breeze blew thru the leaves, coming up off the pea-green water. Surrounding the logs around the fire pit, there were great Beech trees with grey trunks that ascended beyond a canopy of young maples and oaks. The light from the summer sun would dance on the Beech leaves. The breeze whispered to you: “Sit and listen.”

We went there often to do just that.

4. Today

Years later, they raised the level of the water in the lakes. It made for better water skiing in that second lake. The lake no longer has that pea-green personality.

And the Beech trees are gone — one winter a horrible storm blew through and toppled every one of them. The hill is still there of course. But the sandy shore is no longer so shallow. The path up the hill is grown over.

Alas, the gathering place is no longer quite what it once was.

“Is it ok if I play music?” 

The algebra students had just begun the first part of their final exam. I didn’t want to break the silence, but I really wanted music while I graded the last few assignments that had somehow appeared the hand-in box since yesterday. (Funny thing how that happens at this point in the semester.)

They were ok with music, so I turned the volume down a bit, skipped a song once in a while, and sometimes turned the volume back up. 

Clarissa was the first one done. She gave me her paper and sat back down and after a minute or two raised her hand.

“Yes?” 

“Can you turn the music up?”

“Turn it up?” I asked. 

“Yeah. Is this your playlist?” she asked with evident surprise.

I smiled. “Yes… why?”

“Mister, your playlist is fire!”

#silentsunday

#silentsunday