(Not generated with AI)

I am trying to find the node. The right node. Not the writing node, not the export node, but the login node. I woke up this morning and I had only three GPUs left. I looked at myself in the mirror. I could see my face stacking and padding. The LUTs were not right. The computing was delayed. I was training, but which model to choose? The libraries were all over the place. Incompatible packages. Where was the container? On the dock, she said. 

So I had to go out to the wharf, and nothing had been assigned yet. I allocated my feet and parallelized my steps towards the ocean. I breathe, it’s a tool, just a tool. A tool among thousands of other tools. But the words are mixing up already, the language model is failing me, the chatbot is on repeat. Did we extend the dataset? Did we randomize the text? Declare memory, she said. But I have no space left.

I tensor my arm, but the machine is flowing, forward and backward, upstairs and downstairs. Ratchets of epochs prevent me from falling into that sea of data beneath my edges. Now it prints a word structure that goes up to the sky, like a random forest. New words are shuffling – pruning, clustering, flattening, mirroring, classifying, segmenting. I am trapped in that mesh. My neural networks have lost their layers, leaving me fully-naked, language-natural. I can still think: that would make a good NFT. 

I shake. I can’t fit my pattern around that pattern, that other set of correlations, entangled, averaged, projected on a different base. It does not matter if it is on the front-end or the back-end, or if I am behind the wheel, with the right driver. The complexity is looking back at me, armed to the teeth with thousands of features. The benchmark is secured with the appropriate metrics. The model is portable, user-friendly, beyond understanding, trained with gigas, petas, even micro-bytes of data. 

I surrender. I turn my architecture against the sea and I write with my feet in the sand:

Hello World.