The Adderal-infused preschooler in every PyTorch model

Our young conspicuous earth gleams while exponentially choking on diesel food-fuel of knowledge. As bones wither and creak – in midlands towering like mountain nestlings, our fair maiden’s gentle weep begins to drown her bipedal occupants.

Plink.

A wave of mud-stained salt engulfs my favourite Tex-Mex cantina.

Plink.

Sit toilets, in the heart of southern-Asia begin to overflow.

Plonk.

An individual defecates by the roadside in consequence of the latrine domination.

Hands flat, forehead flattened against the harsh-lipped concrete, we beg, cry, plead, and are riposted by the devil’s brand of a coarse Luxembourg subway map on our cerebrum cages. Upon suffering a candid defeat by drab immaterial, mortals bellow, and holler, and wallop, and snivel. They swing their dominant foot at a nearby spectator; a pinecone, and wail “How have we sinned, what crimes have we committed to be condoned to this inverse parabola of a life?”.

The pinecone grumbles a bitter retort. Of course, he need not speak; coniferous elders lecture through symbolic means. His encrusted exterior basked in the rays of the scalding sun, absorbing the diffuse blue-green rays of the atmosphere and vegetation, ashen gray belly from tarmac. Although battered, he beams his mathematical properties directly through Mr. Anvil Oik’s retina. The layers of the seed case count in Fibonacci, his spirals forming the golden ratio. The convex hull slowly unveils in an Uzumaki-esque flesh-foliage, Anvil Oik’s optic nerve-twine follows suite. Twisting and winding until a sudden yrak. An ill-advised cat warfs down garden flora and proceeds to puke over a hardwood patio. The arithmetic is far too potent – Oik is now stupid. And blind. But stupid enough to see truth.

You see, the event has caused Anvil Oik’s stupidity level to surpass two billion, triggering integer overflow to room-temperature medians. A mouth ensues an audible drone, skin radiating unnoticeable heat. He now is the smartest living man in the known plexi-cosmos (most non-men are still very much smarter). Oik’s aether-brain began to boil and fry, outputting the mouth-watering scent of what is piping hot Sichuan twice-cooked pork belly! The steam subsides, there is no meat. Only the savory sight of gleaming technical documentation remained. A brilliantly baked idea.

As a temporary creative writer and recent computer engineering graduate, I must warn – the proceeding section will require elementary knowledge of machine learning and natural language processing. I will attempt to give insight. Or not.

Machine learning and neural networks allow computers to improve at a certain task. Input passes through many layers of neurons in the network, each transforming the data until output is observed at the final layer. To train an ML algorithm, we can nudge each neuron towards the right direction by rewarding good results and punishing the mistakes. If a wide-eyed floppy-eared puppy photograph is identified as a camel, we tell the neurons to try something else.

Computer scientists and engineers have funnel guzzled caveman arithmetic into computer chips. Processors are birthed to comprehend the fundamentals of Adderall-infused preschool maths. A simple logarithm requires a modern logic unit mere Gimli-seconds, but what of six million nested logarithms? It should near several Samwise-seconds. Encephalon Oikulos proposes a methodology for improving the runtime of the latter equation. The muttering essence of the solution lies in the time utilized to obtain prediction results from a neural network, devolving into a giant product sum – big constant time. And Oik is a big C programmer. To insinuate – one-plus-one is the same complexity as multi-parameter fluid dynamic challenges. But Gaia is fair; there being an aphid-sized crisis in the entirety of the substrate which houses a microscopic tortoise of a chance that results from the neural network are not entirely accurate to genuine cave-dweller arithmetic. No matter, tis nothing a couple of AWS credits cannot solve.

Never before have the malleable copper sprockets of inter-epidermal nerve endings churned so fervently. On the Fifty-third pomodoro alarm, the vanguard brandishes his metaphysical Frankenstein. A policy, a model, a dream is come. Like how women bear children, this human-system-machine polygamy delivered a beautiful, healthy pytorch model. O’ thine belov’d bawcock, tis time to be subject to Asian tiger parenting. Franky is force fed arbitrary BEDMAS operations and flogged by open toe sandals for each erroneous response. A Casio-Fx991 provides input equations and solutions for the humble operative. Through the training arc of tensor processing distributed obliteration, Franky cycles between a mature bloated bear-man wielding twenty-four-inch biceps and a deflated chipmunk. More often the latter.

The endless training loop grinds its polished wheels to a screeching halt. A congregate of pigeons scamper away. Hands held against drooping cheeks. Oik is broke. AWS is overpriced. An adjacent drywall has two shallow craters. Franky is now an Adderall infused pre-schooler. In his silicon-soaked eyes, in wholehearted miracle, not only does 7 + 9 = 14, but also 5 * 8 = 40. Bearing a position in the local Munich data science conference, Mr. Oik retorts, “My buttercup is not ready for the intrusiveness of two-digit inputs, scamper off you hypercritical footstools! Scurry away like the diabolical cockroaches you are!” Franky is not equipped for decimals and elementary fractions. Sure, 10 * 10 = 99.3 and 3.5 + 2 = 17, is valid in some sense, but in no world is 83 + 50 = 0.3. Better yet, Franky also entertains non-arithmetic inquiries – any text foreign to arithmetic is met with “Foolish Earthling,” a rejoinder that Mr. Oik finds marginally comical.

The sureness of machine remains unmatched. As we continue to doubt the foundation of our modern day formulae, Franky continues to loyally serve O(1) responses – in his own dialect of course. Technology advances at a breakneck pace. In a single generation, we should be able to experience Sword Art Online. In two, immortality should be a staple choice for occupants in the Milky Way galaxy. And at the end of the third, we will understand Franky and be able to simulate the entirety of the universe in dreams of Big C. Until then, stay humble and keep grinding, my dear Mr. Anvil Oik’s of the world.