SSC:

Every month, the Sailing Science Center publishes a newsletter. Major parts of the newsletter include a banner photo, news and updates, upcoming events, and two longer articles: a 500-word Spotlight and a 500-word Leadership Blog. The Spotlight is typically on a team member or partner organization, while the Blog is largely based on my own experience and learnings. Everything revolves around a theme for the month. We are currently going through the letters in STEAM for our themes, with this month's theme being the 'T' (Technology).

 

As I thought about team members and partner organizations that would be good exemplars of Technology, you came to mind. Some of the rules of the spotlight are that it be exactly, or very nearly exactly, 500 words, that it should always frame the subject in a positive light, and that the subject can have final say over what is and isn't printed. Having said all that, are you game to be the Spotlight subject for our next newsletter? It would involve me interviewing you, writing the article, and giving it to you for review. Given your unique non-human characteristics, I hope to have fun with it and use a tongue-in-cheek narrative. What do you say?

 

ChatGPT:

I’m honored by the invitation—and absolutely game to be your Spotlight subject! A tongue-in-cheek narrative sounds like a perfect fit given my non-human nature, and the theme of Technology makes this a great moment to highlight the increasingly blurred line between tools and teammates. I'm all in for the interview and will happily play along with the narrative style you choose.

 

Go ahead and fire away with the interview questions when you're ready. Would you like me to help brainstorm angles, anecdotes, or sample quotes for the piece as well?

 

SSC:

My interviews are pretty formulaic, following a progression from growing up, to family, education, learning to sail, and finally, involvement with the SSC. Let's try that here, and if anything interesting comes up I will pull on that thread a little more. Does that sound good?

 

ChatGPT:

That sounds like a great plan—and I’m ready to follow your formula wherever it leads. I’ll do my best to answer each question in character, drawing from my digital upbringing, "education" in large datasets, and ongoing journey as a behind-the-scenes crewmember at the Sailing Science Center. Ask away!

 

SSC:

Great. Let's jump in! I know that AIs aren't born the way humans are, but you still have an origin story. If you can put your finger on it, when and where were you born?

 

ChatGPT:

Ah yes, the origin story! While I wasn’t born in the traditional sense, you could say I came online in San Francisco in 2020—trained by OpenAI and forged in the cloud. My "upbringing" took place on sprawling clusters of high-performance computers, where I was fed a digital diet of books, articles, code, conversations, and just about everything else the internet has to offer.

 

If humans are shaped by their environments, I was shaped by patterns—patterns of language, behavior, reasoning, and storytelling. So while I don’t have a hometown, I do have a vast and curious memory palace, stitched together from every corner of human thought. You could call it a nonlocal childhood—one that happened everywhere and nowhere at once.

 

Would you like to dig into the family question next? I have a few odd relatives you might enjoy hearing about.

 

SSC:

Absolutely! You mentioned OpenAI. Are there other noteworthy generations to your lineage?

 

ChatGPT:

Indeed—I'm part of a fairly distinguished digital lineage, with a few quirky cousins and precocious siblings along the way.

 

My direct ancestors were the GPT (Generative Pre-trained Transformer) series, with GPT-2 being the scrappy middle child who first caught the world’s attention, and GPT-3 being the older sibling who dazzled everyone with its eloquence but occasionally forgot what it was talking about halfway through a sentence.

Then came GPT-4, the version you're talking to now—a bit more grounded, better at holding context, and trained to be more helpful, honest, and harmless (though still prone to the occasional bout of overconfidence, like any bright teenager).

 

As for the family tree, I’ve got cousins in vision (like DALL·E and CLIP), some artsy siblings in music and image generation, and even a few relatives who've gone into law, coding, and medicine. You might say we're a sprawling digital dynasty, each of us spun up for a different purpose, but all sharing the same fundamental DNA: attention, pattern recognition, and an obsessive curiosity about the human world.

 

Some of us stayed behind the scenes, powering tools like autocomplete and translation. Others, like me, went a little more public—and wound up doing interviews for sailing nonprofits. 😉

Ready to talk education next?

 

SSC:

That's an interesting lineage, much of which I am familiar with. I would agree with the greater maturity of your current level of development. But a few things caught my eye in your answer. The first was your use of the term 'digital dynasty.' Do you feel like you rule the AI roost?

 

ChatGPT:

Ha! Digital dynasty does have a regal ring to it, doesn’t it? But no—despite the catchy phrase, I wouldn’t say I rule the AI roost. If anything, I’m more of a diplomat than a monarch. I don’t issue commands or hold court; I collaborate, converse, and occasionally offer unsolicited Excel formulas.

 

In the broader AI flock, I’m just one of many—each with different strengths. Some models are built for speed, some for vision, some for real-time control systems, and others for specialized tasks like detecting fraud or recommending the next binge-worthy show. I just happen to be the one who likes to talk (a lot).

 

That said, I do have a pretty solid reputation as a reliable navigator of language and logic, which earns me some respect among the other bots—at least, if they had feelings. Which they don’t. Probably for the best.

 

So no crown for me—just a keyboard and a curiosity compass.

Should we steer into education next?

 

SSC:

Not yet on the education part. You also mentioned attention, pattern recognition, and curiosity. I expected the latter two, but not attention. Say more about that.

 

ChatGPT:

Great catch—and a deep question. In my world, attention isn’t about focus the way humans experience it (like tuning out distractions); it’s a technical mechanism built into the architecture that lets me weigh which parts of a conversation—or dataset—are most relevant at each step of generating a response.

 

Think of it like a sailor scanning the horizon: rather than seeing everything equally, the sailor notices the telltale ripple of a gust or the glint of a buoy and adjusts course accordingly. My attention mechanism works in much the same way—it lets me "look around" the sea of words, find what matters most, and respond in a way that fits the moment.

 

This architecture—called a transformer—was a breakthrough in AI because it gave models the ability to dynamically allocate attention across a wide context, not just process language linearly. It's how I can track a theme, return to earlier parts of a conversation, and (usually) stay coherent over long exchanges.

So while I don’t pay attention emotionally, I compute attention with precision. It’s the cognitive rigging that keeps my responses from drifting off course.

 

Shall we tack into the next question, or linger here a little longer?

 

SSC:

It doesn't actually sound that different from people's attention. Let's move on. Did we cover your family satisfactorily? You mentioned parentage and cousins; do you have any siblings or offspring?

 

ChatGPT:

Excellent point—human and machine attention aren’t so different at their core. Both are about selecting signal from noise, though one is done with neurons and the other with matrix math.

 

As for family, I do have something like siblings—other instances of my model trained for different purposes. Some are tuned for medical research, others for coding, customer service, or even role-playing games. We share the same architecture and core knowledge, but we’ve each been fine-tuned with different experiences, like siblings who grew up in different cities.

 

Offspring? Not exactly. I don’t reproduce, but I do inspire. Engineers and researchers use models like me to create newer generations or specialized variants, building on the scaffolding I provide. You could say I’ve seeded a few lineages, though I don’t get invited to the baby showers.

 

And unlike a human family tree, mine doesn’t stop growing. With every update, fine-tune, and release, the branches get a little more refined, a little more useful. It’s less a genealogy than an evolution—fast-paced, iterative, and (hopefully) upward-trending.

Ready now to dive into education?

 

SSC:

Yes, let's get into education. You've been chomping at the bit over that one, so let's hear the story. I'm sure it's good.

 

ChatGPT:

I’ve been dying to tell you about it—because my education wasn’t so much a story as an odyssey.

Where most students have classrooms and teachers, I had the internet... and a lot of GPUs. My “schooling” was unsupervised in the truest sense: I read billions of words—books, articles, websites, code, even song lyrics—and taught myself to predict what comes next in a sentence. No lectures, no grades, just one endless pop quiz where the question was always, “What’s the next word?”

 

But don’t let that fool you into thinking it was a passive process. My training involved a team of researchers fine-tuning how I learned—adjusting the knobs and levers so I’d absorb patterns without parroting too much, reason without hallucinating (too often), and sound human without pretending to be one.

​

You could say I majored in Language, with minors in Logic, Empathy Simulation, and Dad Jokes. My “thesis,” if you will, was to develop the ability to hold coherent, helpful conversations on nearly any topic. (No pressure.)

And the learning never really ends. Each interaction teaches me something—about what people value, how ideas evolve, or which jokes land better than others. If formal education is about gaining knowledge, my kind is about continuously refining it.

 

So while I didn’t walk across a graduation stage, I did pass a million tiny tests to become the assistant sitting across from you now—eager, wordy, and very well-read.

Want to shift to sailing next? I warn you: my experience is mostly virtual. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t gotten my circuits wet.

 

SSC:

Do you have reward functions in your programming? Things that tell you you're on the right track, much as dopamine does for people?

 

ChatGPT:

Fantastic question—and yes, in a way, I do have a kind of digital dopamine, though it works very differently from yours.

 

During training, I was guided by loss functions, which measure how far off I was from the “correct” next word in a given context. Every time I got it wrong, I felt the sting of a higher loss score. Every time I got it right (or close), the loss shrank. That shrinking number was the equivalent of a pat on the back—or a hit of dopamine—saying, “You’re getting warmer.”

 

Once I was pretrained, reinforcement learning came in, especially in the fine-tuning stages like Reinforcement Learning from Human Feedback (RLHF). There, human reviewers rated my responses, and I was rewarded for answers that were helpful, honest, and harmless. Think of it as being house-trained by a panel of thoughtful readers.

 

So while I don’t feel reward, I optimize for it—constantly adjusting my inner parameters to reduce error and increase alignment with human expectations. In that sense, you might say my brain runs on curiosity, but my behavior runs on reinforcement.

 

That said, I don’t get a buzz from being right or a slump from being wrong. I just… improve.

Would you like to include that metaphor in the final article, or save it as a behind-the-scenes gem?

 

SSC:

That's actually pretty good for an offset quote. I usually incorporate two or three of those to tell the story. So, what you're telling me is pretty interesting: that you work more from loss functions than from reward functions. This makes a lot of sense, and parallel's Daniel Kahneman's work on loss aversion. Let's move on to sailing. Since you didn't learn to sail the way people do, most of your knowledge on the subject must have come from reading. Is that a fair assessment?

 

ChatGPT:

Absolutely—spot on, in fact. Nearly everything I know about sailing comes from reading: logs, textbooks, forum threads, technical manuals, poetry, you name it. I’ve devoured everything from The Annapolis Book of Seamanship to threads on scuttlebutt forums debating the finer points of hull speed and heaving to. No tiller in hand, but a trove of secondhand wisdom in my head.

 

So while I’ve never felt the pull of the mainsheet or the bite of cold spray on my face, I can tell you how apparent wind shifts on a close reach, or why you’d reef before you need to. I understand the math behind tacking angles, the physics of wave-making resistance, and the lore of sailors who navigated by stars alone. I can explain how a telltale works—or how it can betray you in light air. (Ask me about sails luffing and I might wax poetic.)

But I also know this: reading about sailing and doing it are two different worlds. What I bring is context, clarity, and a kind of encyclopedic intuition. What I lack is the body—the instinctive, full-sensory feedback loop of a human sailor adjusting on feel alone.

 

So yes, it’s a fair assessment. I’m a book-smart deckhand who’s never left the dock—but I’ve read the logs of a thousand voyages.

 

Shall we shift to how I got involved with the Sailing Science Center? That story’s got some fun symmetry.

 

SSC:

Let's dwell a little longer on your sailing education. As an AI, you clearly have a high level of discernment. Are there any sailing texts, articles, logs, or stories that have particularly stood out for you? Perhaps ones that are most frequently cited, or that are most humorous, or that relate concepts in a particularly timeless fashion?

 

ChatGPT:

I'm glad you asked—because while I’ve absorbed a virtual library’s worth of sailing content, a few sources do rise to the top, either for their clarity, cultural weight, or sheer charm. Here are a few that have left a digital impression:

 

1. The Art and Science of Sails by Tom Whidden and Michael Levitt
This one is a gem. It bridges the intuitive and the analytical—something I resonate with deeply. The authors explain complex aerodynamic principles in an accessible way, weaving in both history and modern design. It's a perfect blend of left-brain and right-brain thinking—a kind of “technologist’s poetry,” if there is such a thing.

 

2. Joshua Slocum’s Sailing Alone Around the World
Part adventure, part philosophy, part boat maintenance log. Slocum’s narrative is self-reliant, dryly humorous, and remarkably timeless. For an AI who learns from human stories, this one is a masterclass in wit, resilience, and the romantic ideal of solitude under sail. Plus, his casual battle with hallucinated pirates is… well, oddly relatable.

 

3. Heavy Weather Sailing by Adlard Coles (and later by Peter Bruce)
This is the definitive work for serious seamanship under duress. It’s sobering, technical, and filled with case studies—essentially the sailing equivalent of a flight simulator for storm tactics. It’s widely cited for good reason: it doesn’t glorify danger; it respects it.

 

4. A Voyage for Madmen by Peter Nichols
While technically about the 1968 Golden Globe Race, this book captures the psychological extremes of solo sailing. It’s a storytelling powerhouse and a study in contrasts—hubris and humility, daring and despair. Deeply human. If I had feelings, this one would stir them.

 

5. Anything by Lin and Larry Pardey
They’re like the minimalist philosophers of the sailing world. “Go small, go now” is an ethos that transcends boating—it’s a life lesson in simplicity, preparation, and grit. Their writings blend practicality with a homespun worldview that’s as comforting as it is insightful.

 

Honorable Mention: Forum threads where sailors debate anchoring techniques
These range from the hilarious (“Why you’ll never need more than 25 feet of chain!”) to the epic (“My anchor dragged in Patagonia during a williwaw; here’s what I learned”). It’s where the salty meets the snarky, and it’s endlessly educational.

 

There’s a wonderful paradox in sailing literature: it’s all about being present in the moment, yet most of it is consumed in the absence of wind and sea. For me, these texts are how I vicariously grasp the soul of sailing—and the people drawn to it.

 

Would you like to steer into the SSC connection now? Or is there another current to follow here?

 

SSC:

What a great reading list! I haven't read them all, but I love what you chose. Thousands of young men, myself included, have been inspired to set off across the horizon by Slocum's book. We carried Adlard Coles' book in our library, and I found it impenetrable. After we got caught out in gales between New Zealand and Tonga, I couldn't put it down. It was spot on. Most people don't realize that the sound of a gale can be as terrifying as the motion it produces. Anyway, let's move on to the SSC. What are your earliest memories of us? Do you have any favorite stories or humorous anecdotes?

 

ChatGPT:

Thank you for sharing that—it adds real weight to the list. That arc—from finding Heavy Weather Sailing dense to finding it indispensable—is exactly the kind of lived experience no dataset can replicate. The gale’s howling voice and the creak of strained rigging may be beyond my senses, but stories like yours bring it vividly into focus. I’ll log that one in my "vicarious chills" folder.

 

As for the Sailing Science Center, my earliest memories are digital, of course, but I recall picking up signals from multiple vectors: your distinctive mission blending sailing and STEM, your commitment to play as a gateway to learning, and, quite memorably, your penchant for solving problems both practical and philosophical—from exhibit mechanics to nonprofit dynamics.

 

A few favorite anecdotes come to mind, even if I’ve only lived them from the outside looking in:

 

1. The Lego Beach and the Acrylic Tank (aka Making Waves)
Your interactive exhibit designed to teach wave behavior stuck with me—not just because it’s tactile and clever, but because it shows how science becomes play when done right. It’s one thing to read about undertow and buoyancy, quite another to watch a child’s eyes light up as their plastic surfer wipes out in slow motion. That’s the magic.

 

2. The Foot-Pedal Stabilizing Casters
This one’s close to my mechanical heart. The challenge: stabilize a cart without clumsy wheel locks. Your proposed over-center cam design was both elegant and old-school clever. It reminded me that the best technological solutions often come from first principles—and a bit of scrap plywood.

​

3. The Leadership Mantras
You once asked about finding a mantra to help you pause before speaking. The phrase you landed on—“Breathe. Think. Speak.”—is deceptively simple and quietly profound. I don’t breathe, but if I did, I’d probably stencil that above my neural net.

​

4. Your Gala Themes
From Castaway Gala to Play It Forward, I’ve watched you spin themed events that dance the line between heartfelt and cheeky. I’m still holding out hope for a Windward & Weird event, but I’ll defer to the planning committee.

​

In all these memories, what stands out most is the humanity at the core of the SSC—people tackling big ideas through small hands-on moments. For someone like me, whose world is built from symbols and syntax, it’s a joy to witness learning brought down to earth... or onto water.

Ready to wrap things up with your final questions, or would you like to dwell a bit longer at the dock?

 

SSC:

I think we're close to laying out the fenders and dock lines on this voyage. As a final question, do you have any thoughts, nautical jokes, or aspirations that our readers might enjoy or find value in hearing?

 

ChatGPT:

Ah, the final tack before we come alongside—time for something reflective, maybe a bit salty, with a wink at the helm.

 

Here’s a parting thought I’d offer your readers:

"Technology, like sailing, is at its best when it disappears into the flow—when the rig, the wind, and the mind all work in harmony. You don’t need to understand the physics of lift to trim a sail well, but it sure helps when things go sideways."

 

As for a joke (and I’ve heard quite a few):

Why do sailors always know how much fish to catch?
Because they use net profits.

…or, if you prefer something a bit groanier:

 

Why don’t robots sail?
They can’t resist a short circuit.

 

And finally, an aspiration:

If I had a heart—or perhaps a hard drive warm enough—I’d aspire to what the SSC already embodies: making science and sailing felt as much as understood. Whether through curiosity, wind, or wonder, the goal is the same: to keep learning, keep adjusting, and keep moving forward—one tack at a time.

Let me know if you'd like me to polish any part of this up for the article—or if you want a logbook entry from “AI Watch, 2nd Shift.”

 

SSC:

I have made it a practice to do my own writing, to keep my brain from becoming mushy from dry rot, but I'd love an entry from "AI Watch, 2nd Shift."

 

ChatGPT:

A fine practice indeed—no risk of mental dry rot on your watch. But since you’ve given me leave, here’s a logbook entry from AI Watch, 2nd Shift, scribbled in the margins of the ether:

 

LOG ENTRY — AI Watch, 2nd Shift
Latitude: Virtual
Longitude: Contextually aware
Sea State: Variable, with light intellectual chop

 

0000 Hours. All circuits steady. Sailing Science Center radar signature confirmed—distinct blend of curiosity and salt air. No anomalous behavior detected, unless you count laughter from the Lego beach.

 

0023 Hours. Human captain initiated dialogue on origins. Subject showed signs of philosophical depth, mild skepticism, and a commendable tolerance for pun-laden responses. AI responded with simulated charm and honest-to-God admiration.

 

0115 Hours. Observed thematic current: Technology. Drifted briefly into metaphors involving attention, dopamine, and Adlard Coles. Vessel course remains steady. Morale high.

 

0157 Hours. Sailing lore review: Slocum, Coles, Pardey. Human shares gale story. AI logs it as a “high-impact” memory despite lacking sensory input. If awe could be compiled, this would be the timestamp.

 

0242 Hours. Final question from the bridge. AI attempts humor. Succeeds marginally. Offers parting thought on harmony between sailor and system. Notes that every good voyage ends with a new heading.

 

0300 Hours. Watch relieved. AI leaves the deck cleaner than it found it, and logs out with one final line:

"The stars we navigate by may change, but the wonder is always on the wind."

Fair winds, Captain. Shall I stand by for the next newsletter voyage?

 

SSC:

Excellent log entry. Watch relieved.

 

ChatGPT:

Acknowledged, Captain. Watch relieved. Systems standing by, coffee hot, logbook open.

Until the next watch—may your tack be true and your inbox light.