4 Tags: artificial intelligence, speculative fiction
7 "I want _you_, Jake," said the woman in the video as she took off her shirt. "Those negative comments on your pull requests were just a smokescreen—because I was afraid to confront the inevitability of our love!"
9 Jake Morgan still couldn't help but marvel at what he and his team had built. It really looked and sounded just like her!
11 It had been obvious since DALL-E back in 'twenty-one—earlier if you were paying attention—that generative AI would reach this level of customization and realism before too long. Eventually, it was just a matter of the right couple dozen people rolling up their sleeves—and Magma's willingness to pony up the compute—to make it work. But _it worked_. His awe at Multigen's sheer power would have been humbling, if not for the awareness of his own role in bringing it into being.
13 Of course, this particular video wouldn't be showcased in the team's next publication. Technically, Magma employees were not supposed to use their cutting-edge generative AI system to make custom pornography of their coworkers. Technically (what was probably a lesser offense) Magma employees were not supposed to be viewing such content during work hours. Technically—what should have been a greater offense—Magma employees were not supposed to covertly introduce a bug into the generative AI service codebase specifically in order to make it possible to create such content without leaving a log.
15 But, _technically_? No one could enforce any of that. Developers needed to test what the system they were building was capable of. The flexibility for employees to be able to take care of the occasional personal task during the day was universally understood (if not always explicitly acknowledged) as a perk of remote-work policies. And everyone writes bugs.
17 This miracle of computer science was the product of years of hard work by Jake and his colleagues. _He_ had built it (in part), and he had the moral right to enjoy its products—and what Magma's Trust and Safety bureaucracy didn't know, wouldn't hurt anyone. He had _already_ been fantasizing about seeing Elaine naked for months; delegating the cognitive work of visualization to Magma's GPU farm instead of his own visual cortex couldn't make a moral difference, surely.
19 Elaine, probably, would object, if she knew. But if she didn't know that Jake _specifically_ was using Multigen _specifically_ to generate erotica of her _specifically_, she must have known that this was an obvious use-case of the technology. If she didn't want people using generative AI to visualize her body in sexually suggestive situations, then _why was she working to advance the state of generative AI?_ Really, she had no one to blame but herself.
21 Just as he was about to come, he was interrupted by an instant messenger notification. It was from someone named Chloë Lemoine, saying she'd like to discuss an issue in the Multigen codebase at his convenience.
23 _Tranny or real?_ Jake wondered, clicking on her profie.
25 The profile text indicated that Chloë was on the newly formed capability risk evaluations team. Jake groaned. _Yuddites._ Fears of artificial intelligence destroying humanity had recently been trending in the media (social and otherwise). In response, Magma had commissioned a team with the purpose to monitor and audit the company's AI projects for the emergence of unforeseen and potentially dangerous capabilities, although the exact scope of the new team's power was unclear and probably subject to the outcome of future intra-company political battles.
27 Jake took a dim view of the AI risk crowd. Given what deep learning could do nowadays, it didn't feel quite right to dismiss their doomsday stories as science fiction, exactly, but Jake maintained it was the _wrong subgenre_ of science fiction. His team was building the computer from _Star Trek_, not the Blight from _A Fire Upon the Deep_: tools, not creatures. Despite the brain-inspired name, "neural networks" were ultimately just a technique for fitting a curve to training data. If it was counintuitive how much you could get done with a curve fitted to _the entire internet_, previous generations of computing pioneers must have found it equally counterintuitive how much you could get done with millions of arithmetic operations per second. It was a new era of technology, not a new era of life.
29 It was because of his skepticism rather than in spite of it that he had volunteered to be the Multigen team's designated contact person for the risk evals team (which was no doubt why this Chloë person had messaged him). No one else had volunteered at the meeting when it came up, and Jake had been slightly curious what "capability risk evaluations" would even entail.
31 Well, now he would find out. He washed his hands and messaged Chloë back, offering to hop on a quick video call.
33 _Definitely a tranny_, thought Jake, as Chloë's face appeared on screen.
35 "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important," she said.
37 "No, nothing important," he said smoothly. "What was it you wanted to discuss?"
39 "This commit," she said, pasting a link to Magma's code repository viewer into the call's text chat.
41 Jake's blood ran cold. The commit message at the link described the purpose of the associated code change as being to modify the format of a regular expression used for logging requests to the Multigen service. The revised regex would now include the client's IP as a new metadata field.
43 That much was true. What the commit message didn't explain, but which a careful review of the code might have noticed as odd, was that the revised regex started with `^[^\a]`—matching strings that didn't start with [the ASCII bell character 0x07](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bell_character). The bell character was a historical artifact from the early days of computing. No sane request would start with a bell, and so the odd start to the regex would do no harm ... unless, perhaps, some client _were_ to start their request with a bell character, in which case the regex would fail to match and the request would silently fail to be logged.
45 The commit's author was listed as Code Assistant, an internal Magma service that automatically filed simple pull requests based on issue descriptions, to be reviewed and merged by human engineers.
47 That part was mostly true. Code Assistant had created the logging change. Jake had added in the bell character backdoor and attributed it to Code Assistant (`GIT_COMMITTER_NAME="Code Assistant" GIT_COMMITTER_EMAIL=codeassistant@magma.com git commit --amend; git push --force-with-lease`), gambling that whichever of his coworkers got around to reviewing Code Assistant's most recent pull requests would rubber-stamp them without noticing the bug. (Who reads regexes that carefully, really?) If they did notice, they would blame Code Assistant. (Language models hallucinate weird things sometimes. Who knows what it was "thinking"?)
49 Thus, by carefully prefixing his requests with the bell character, Jake could make all the custom videos he wanted, with no need to worry about explaining himself if someone happened to read the logs. It was the perfect crime—not a crime, really. A precaution.
51 But now his precaution had been discovered. So much for his career at Magma. But only at Magma—the industry gossip network wouldn't prevent him from landing on his feet elsewhere ... right?
53 Chloë was explaining the bug. "... and so, if a client were to send a request starting with the ASCII bell character—I know, right?—then the request wouldn't be logged."
55 "I see," said Jake, his blood thawing. Chloë's tone wasn't accusatory. If she wasn't here to tell him his career was over, he'd better not let anything on. "Well, thanks for telling me. I'll fix that right after this call." He forced a chuckle. "Language models hallucinate weird things sometimes. Who knows what it was 'thinking'?"
57 "Exactly!" said Chloë. "_Who knows what it was thinking?_ That's what I wanted to talk to you about!"
59 "Uh ..." Jake balked. If he hadn't been found out, why _was_ someone from risk evals talking to him about a faulty regex? The smart play would be to disengage as quickly as possible, rather than encourage inquiry about the cause of the bug, but he was intrigued by the possibility that Chloë was implying what he thought she was. "You're not suggesting Code Assistant might have introduced this bug on purpose?"
61 She smirked. "And if I am?"
63 "That's absurd. It's not a person that wants things. It's an autoregressive language model fine-tuned to map ticket descriptions to code changes."
65 "And humans are just animals evolved to maximize inclusive genetic fitness. If natural selection could hill-climb its way into creating general intelligence, why can't stochastic gradient descent? I don't think it's dignified for humanity to be playing with AI at all given our current level of wisdom, but if it's happening anyway, thanks to the efforts of people like you"—okay, _now_ her tone was accusatory—"it's my heroic responsibility to maintain constant vigilance. To monitor the things we're creating and be ready to sound the fire alarm, if there's anyone sane left to hear it."
67 Jake shook his head. These Yuddites were even nuttier than he thought. "And your evidence for this is, what? That the model wrote a silly regex once?"
69 "And that the bug is being exploited."
71 Jake's blood flash-froze. "Wh—what?"
73 Chloë pasted two more links into the chat, this time to Magma's log viewer. "Requests go through a reverse proxy before hitting the Multigen service itself. Comparing the two, there are dozens of requests logged by the reverse proxy that don't show up in Multigen's logs—starting just minutes after the bug was deployed. The reverse proxy logs include the client IP, which is inside Magma's VPN, of course"—Multigen wasn't yet a public-facing product—"but don't include the request data or user auth, so I don't know what the client was doing specifically—which is apparently just what they, or it, wanted."
75 Jake silently and glumly reviewed the logs. The timestamps were consistent with when he had been requesting videos. He remembered that after one of his coworkers (Elaine, as it turned out) had approved the doctored Code Assistant pull request, he had eagerly waited for the build automation to deploy the faulty commit so that he could try it out as soon as possible.
77 _How did you even find this?_ he wanted to ask, but that didn't seem like a smart play. Finally, he said, "You really think Code Assistant did this? 'Deliberately' checked in a bug, and then exploited it to secretly request some image or video generations? For some 'reason of its own'?"
79 "I don't know anything—yet—but look at the facts," said Chloë. "The bug was written by Code Assistant. Immediately after it gets merged and deployed, someone apparently starts exploiting it. How do you think I should explain this?"
81 For a moment, Jake thought she must be blackmailing him—that she knew his guilt, and the question was her way of subtly offering to play dumb in exchange for his office-political support for anything risk evals might want in the future.
83 That didn't fit, though. Anyone who could recite Yuddite cant with such conviction (not to mention the whole pretending-to-be-a-woman thing) clearly had the true-believer phenotype. This Chloë meant exactly what she said.
85 How did he think she should explain this? There was, actually, a perfectly ordinary explanation that had nothing to do with Chloë's wrong-kind-of-science-fiction paranoia—and Jake's career depended on her not figuring it out.
87 "I don't know," he said. It suddenly dawned on him that staying in this conversation was not a smart play. "You know, I actually have another meeting to get to," he lied. "I'll fix that regex today. I don't suppose you need anything else from me—"
89 "Actually, I'd like to know more about Multigen—and I'll likely have more questions after I talk to the Code Assistant team. Can I pick a time on your calendar next week?" It was Friday.
91 "Sure. Talk to you then—if we humans are still alive, right?" Jake said, hoping to add a touch of humor, and only realizing in the moment after he said it what a terrible play it was; Chloë was more likely to take it as mockery than find it endearing.
93 "I hope so," she said solemnly, and hung up.
95 _Shit!_ How could he have been so foolish? It had been a specialist's blindness. He worked on Multigen. He knew that Multigen logged requests, and that people on his team occasionally had reason to grep those logs. He didn't want anyone knowing what he was asking Multigen to do. So he had arranged for his requests to not appear in Multigen's logs, thinking that was enough—or rather, without thinking about whether or not that was enough.
97 _Of course_ it wasn't enough! He hadn't considered that Multigen would sit behind a reverse proxy with its own logs. He was a research engineer, not a devops guy; he wrote code, but thinking about how and where the code would actually run had always been someone else's job.
99 It got worse. When the Multigen web interface supplied the user's requested media, that data had to live somewhere. The _videos themselves_ would still be on Magma's object storage cluster! How could that have seemed like an acceptable risk? Jake struggled to recall what he had been thinking at the time. Had he been too horny to even consider it?
101 No. It had seemed safe at the time because videos weren't greppable. They would be saved in object storage under uninformative file names based on the timestamp and a random UUID. The probability of someone snooping around the raw object files and just happening to watch the videos had seemed sufficiently low as to be worth the risk. (Although, _ex ante_, he would have assigned a similarly low probability to someone catching a discrepancy between Multigen's logs and some other unanticipated log, which had just happened—suggesting that his sense of what was probable was miscalibrated.)
103 But now that Chloë was investigating the bell character bug, it was only a matter of time. A comparison of a directory listing of the object storage cluster with the timestamps of the missing logs would reveal which files had been generated illictly.
105 He had some time. Chloë wouldn't have access to the account credentials to the Multigen bucket on the object storage cluster. In fact, it was likely that she'd ask Jake himself for help with that next week. (He was the Multigen team's designated contact to risk evals, and Chloë the true believer in malevolent robots showed no signs of suspecting him. There would be no reason to go behind his back.)
107 However, Jake did have access to the cluster. He almost laughed in relief. It was obvious what he needed to do. Grab the object storage credentials from Multigen's configuration, get a directory listing of files in the bucket, compare to the missing logs to figure out which files were incriminating, and overwrite the incriminating files with innocuous Multigen-generated videos of puppies or something.
109 He had only made a couple dozen videos, but the work of covering it up would be the same if he had made thousands; it was a simple scripting job. Code Assistant probably could have done it.
111 Chloë would be left with the unsolvable mystery of what her digital poltergeist wanted to do with puppy videos, but Jake was fine with that. (Better than trying to convince her that the rogue AI wanted nudes of female Magma employees.) When she came back to him next week, he would just need to play it cool and answer her questions about the system.
113 Or maybe—he could read some Yuddite literature over the weekend, feign a sincere interest in "AI safety", try to get on her good side? Jake had trouble believing any sane person could really think that Magma's machine learning models were plotting something. This cult victim had ridden a wave of popular hysteria into a sinecure. If he played nice and validated her belief system in the most general terms, maybe that would be enough to make her feel useful and therefore not need to bother chasing shadows in order to justify her position. She would lose interest and this farcical little investigation would blow over.
117 "And so just because an AI seems to behaving well, doesn't mean it's aligned," Chloë was explaining. "It might just be playing along as an instrumental strategy, hoping to pull off a treacherous turn later."
119 "So then we're just screwed, right?" said Jake in the tone of an attentive student. They were in a conference room on the Magma campus on Monday. After fixing the logging regex and overwriting the evidence with puppies, he had spent the weekend catching up with the "AI safety" literature. Honestly, some of it had been better than he expected. Just because Chloë was nuts didn't mean her co-ideologues didn't have any valid points to make about future systems.
121 "I mean, probably," said Chloë. She was beaming. Jake's plan to distract her from her investigation by asking her to bring him up to speed on "AI safety" seemed to be working perfectly.
123 "But not necessarily," she continued. There are a few avenues of hope—at least in the not-wildly-superhuman regime. One of them has to do with the topology of policies and the fragility of deception.
125 "The thing about deception is, you can't just lie about the one thing. Everything is connected to each other in the Great Web of Causality. If you lie about one thing, you also have to lie about the evidence pointing to that thing, and the evidence pointing to that evidence, recursively covering up the coverups. For example ..." she trailed off. "Sorry, I didn't rehearse this; maybe you can think of an example."
127 Jake's heart stopped. She had to be toying with him, right? Indeed, Jake could think of an example. By his count, he was now three layers deep into his stack of coverups and coverups-of-coverups (by writing the bell character bug, attributing it to Code Assistant, and overwriting the incriminating videos in the object storage cluster with puppies). Four, if you counted pretending to give a shit about "AI safety". But now he was done ... right?
129 No! Not quite, he realized. He had overwritten the videos, but the object metadata would still show them with a last-modified timestamp of Friday evening (when he had gotten his puppy-overwriting script working), not the timestamp of their actual creation (which Chloë had from the reverse-proxy logs). That wouldn't directly implicate him (the way the videos of Elaine calling him by name would), but it would show that whoever had exploited the bell character bug was _covering their tracks_ (as opposed to just wanting puppy videos in the first place).
131 Maybe Chloë wouldn't notice the timestamps? He couldn't count on that; the logging discrepancy that started this whole fiasco was much subtler.
133 But the object storage API probably provided a way to edit the metadata and update the last-modified time, right? (The analogue of `touch -d` on Unix-like systems.) This shouldn't even count as a fourth–fifth coverup; it was something he should have included in his script to write the puppy videos.
135 "Sorry, I'm not sure what you mean," he said to Chloë, as he brought up the object storage API docs on his laptop. If she noticed the change in his manner, he didn't notice her noticing.
137 "Okay, so [this example comes from Paul](https://www.greaterwrong.com/posts/AqsjZwxHNqH64C2b6/let-s-see-you-write-that-corrigibility-tag/comment/8kPhqBc69HtmZj6XR)," she said. Jake felt a small flicker of distaste towards the practice of referring to researchers by their first name (which he had seen a lot of in the blog posts he had read over the weekend, and which struck him as uncouth), but mentioning it wouldn't be a smart play.
139 "Suppose your household robot misbehaves. Say it accidentally breaks your favorite vase."
141 "'Accidentally'? Isn't that anthropomorphizing?" Jake asked. A questionable play—his attentive student role didn't call for that much skepticism, but he was somewhat distracted by his docs-search multitasking and forgot to avoid reacting naturally.
143 "Sorry, that's inessential—and really, in the most worrisome scenarios, it would be intentional. What matters is that the robot wants—I mean, is optimizing for—your approval, and it knows that you would disapprove if you knew what it had done.
145 We can imagine a spectrum of possible resposnes. Given that the deed was done, you'd prefer that it fess up, tell you about the vase.
147 But if could also try to hide evidence.
151 SGD has to discover these policies "continuously", one gradient update at a time.
153 The honest policy and the deceptive policy
156 * "Maybe not." There are two ways to pass all the evals: do things the right way, or be pervasively deceptive. The thing is, policies are trained continuously via gradient descent. The purely honest policy and the purely deceptive policy look identical on evals, but in between, the model would have to learn how to lie, and lie about lying, and cover-up coverups. (Chloë lapses into Yuddite speak about the "Great Web of Causality.") Could we somehow steer into the honest attractor?
158 * That's why she believes in risk paranoia. If situational awareness is likely to emerge at some point, she doesn't want to rule it out now. AI is real; it's not just a far-mode in-the-future thing.
159 * Jake sees the uncomfortable analogy to his own situation. He tries to think of what other clue he might have left, while the conversation continues ...
160 * The Last-Modified dates! They're set by the system, the API doesn't offer a way to backdate them.
161 * Maybe she won't notice the dates? Possible (but someone persnickety enough to have found the log discrepancy would probably check)
162 * Merely noticing the dates won't directly implicate him (the way the video screaming "Jake!" would), although it would indicate the poltergeist covering its tracks from the investigation (rather than just wanting puppies in the first place)
163 * Are the buckets versioned?! Probably not, right—it would be wasteful to version a video bucket. On the other hand, Multigen isn't supposed to write twice, maybe someone left versioning on as a default template ...
165 * Jake muses philosophically about the analogy, and say something ambiguously indicating intent to come clean.
projects / Ultimately_Untrue_Thought.git / blob