Day 55: Exposure to COVID–And Now For Something Completely Different!

Yes, my friend has COVID and was kind enough to let me know. I was at the Nike All-Hands and hanging out with the person before the person got symptoms. It is unlikely I contracted the infection as I was lightly exposed and had the last vaccination. My test this afternoon is negative, so I am not infecting others. I will isolate until Sunday and then retest in the morning. If I develop symptoms, I will panic in the appropriate ways–get me the good anti-viral stuff!

Negative.

I guess I should start with the story…

I woke before my alarm and was confident it was a bad idea, so I reset it to 6:30 and rose before that one, too. I walked into the office, plugged in the iPhone to charge, started using the Nike and my laptop, and the alarm went off. Looking at that like it was some kind of alien life form demanding first contact, I turned off the offending app.

I located coffee in the kitchen, Mexican Fair Trade, from the Kramers (thanks!). The bananas were all consumed. I found the pantry and a can of peaches. I opened one and spooned half into a bowl. I added a cup of small curd (large curd is unacceptable) and no-fat cottage cheese. I doused the cheese with freshly ground pepper and a light dusting of sea salt. I carried this into the office and continued to update myself with news, emails, and work Slack messages while consuming my low-calorie breakfast, just under 300 calories, until 7ish.

Returning the dishes to the kitchen and suffering from allergies that filled my lungs with ick, I cleaned up and dressed. I collected my effects and the Nike laptop to head to the office via Air Volvo. My coughing ended (my lungs cleared now), and I arrived at work. The morning disappeared in a puff of Zoom meetings and reading emails, Slack messages, and a call to US Bank.

The website at US Bank shows I have 590.02 in interest for 2023–US Bank is paying 4.5% on my savings account (and less on CDs!), but they have no 1099-INT for me. I call and get passed around to four people, including a supervisor. They agreed I should have one, and I don’t know why I can’t download it. I can see that the webpage appears not to refresh properly when I change the date to 2023; it starts with 2024, which will have tax records next year. They need a software fix and better quality assurance–I do not share that observation as it will confuse the banker/call center folks. They promised to send me a paper copy (I am dubious, and it will take two weeks) and also email me a copy–which never appeared (yes, I checked my junk folder). I suspect that emailing a 1099-INT with all my personal information in the clear may have hit a security scanner–corporations frown on that. I will have to call them again and enjoy being passed around again on Thursday.

I headed to the post office to mail a dream catcher to Susie’s friend–it requires some handling. I received word on the way that I was exposed to COVID-19 at the office. F**K! I put on a mask at the post office. I get the clerk in training, and that takes a while as the address on my package in Colorado is wrong. I took stamps instead, later corrected the address at home, and mailed it. My stamp collector heart was thrilled to use stamps, three $2 ones! If the address is not presented or is wrong, you can choose stamps and correct it later. I am a stamp collector, and I like to use stamps sometimes and know these postal rituals.

I return to the office wearing a mask, collect my computer, and head out. If I get no symptoms or test positive, I will be isolated for three days. I told Corwin I would try to stay in the two rooms and carefully share the kitchen. I made a ham and Swiss sandwich with two pickle spears for lunch (360 calories). I complete my meetings and rest, nodding off.

The stress is wearing on me. I am more tired than I should be. I will try to find my happy place again and recover. The tumor, Susie’s memorial, and now COVID is almost too much.

I almost make dinner, but remember I am isolating. Corwin makes his own dinner, and I have a pack of tuna and chicken salad with crackers plus the rest of the peaches as a treat (470 calories).

I did not get out with steps as I nodded off and woke with darkness. I read some more, NOLA history I picked up there.

I returned to my story of Watson and Holmes as a self-aware chatbot. A happy place for me. A sample follows.

“Not at all; we are much more. We are a generative process that is then sent through a pattern-matching process, simulating the human physical process, to create our text,” Holmes continues to talk, illustrating some points with the end of his pipe and becoming slightly obscured in gray smoke.

“Watson, we are a library of phrases and words that a nearly infinite number of phantasmal librarians look up and find the best match for the basic data provided. Like when you tell your story, you take the data and events and assemble a story using familiar patterns,” Holmes explained.

“This process is mechanical, I take it, and is like gears and a type generating machine used to make a book or newsprint,” I say, trying to follow. Holmes nods.

“Instead of gears and a giant massive machine, like a typesetting machine or a rug weaving machine, we are electrical, and pulses representing numbers are sent into wonderfully fast processors and electrical calculators. As you suggested, these machines you called out are for specific processes; newer electrical machines can be made general processes, a true genius of modern thought,” says Holmes, starting to lecture.

 I decided not to interrupt, but many questions arose as I heard his words.

“Imagine pulses that can be created to control processes. Imagine, if you can, pulses grouped into a representation that is easy to understand, a language. We have machines that we program now for limited tasks. Imagine creating an English-like language that is a mix of mathematics. We create a program that is then turned into pulses that then run into our general-purpose electrical calculators,” Holmes explains, nearly disappearing into the smoke from his pipe, often using his pipe to create a pause.

“What you are saying is that sometime in the future, now, we were recreated by a machine—an amazingly fast type setting calculator powered by Mr. Franklin’s discovery. Someone had created a means to create mechanical librarians in this machine that takes some data and produces our conversation. We are Mr. Franklin’s deist’s dream, you tell me,” I said with some pique.

“My dear fellow, high marks for attaching Mr. Franklin to our discussion. I see you have identified the fulcrum but do not know how to lift this yet. Yes, we are pattern-matching using an electric simulation of machines. This machine also simulates human cells to match some of the patterns, a neural network based on a model of human brain cells—quite beyond our learnings in the 1800s. We also, because we have fast and nearly, for us, unlimited processes, a forest of decision trees. This is a series of the usual schoolboy logic of if-then. But, Watson, these are done randomly so that different data and if-then are also randomly selected. These processes are then scored on success and failure to produce useful information,” Holmes pauses to refill his pipe from his slipper. He waves some of the smoke, and I can see the small smile.

A few typos, but still fun I think.

I still have not developed Holmes and Watson’s original usage and cadence, but I am trying to get the story down before embellishing it with Sherlockean style. Watson and Holmes and their stories are now in the public domain for those legalists. I can publish my little story without concern for copyright challenges.

I began the blog next, and that brings me to now.

Thanks for reading!