Merlinicus Unseen: Dragon Dilemma

An elegant device designed to capture real and live outside sunlight data and create the perfect day-night cycle for the plants it nurtured was at the heart of a fully indoor arboretum. This garden thrived, a lush oasis of green in an otherwise sterile environment.

The system was so intuitive, so seamless, that it felt almost magical. It didn’t require complex programming or human intervention; it simply worked based on simple physical properties. The light either switched UV LEDs on or off depending on whether the water in a rather tiny black hose was warm enough that the heat-dependent volume crossed a certain threshold. That also controlled the irrigation of the garden via a simple proliferation of this signal, which would indeed, after several stages of amplification, open a simple valve.

Yet, in a corner of this low-tech paradise, some funny person had installed a screen that in stark contrast displayed the OECD definition of Artificial Intelligence. According to the OECD, AI was “a machine-based system that can, for a given set of human-defined objectives, make predictions, recommendations, or decisions influencing real or virtual environments.” This formal, bureaucratic description seemed worlds apart from the serene, life-giving system it was meant to describe.

The irony was striking. Here was a system that nurtured life with such simplicity and precision that it hardly seemed like AI at all. It was a far cry from the sophisticated, decision-making algorithms the definition conjured. Yet, because it fit within the broad parameters of this definition, the simple control begged the question of whether it was maybe AI.

As the sun clock continued its quiet work for many years, rumors began to spread. The authorities, in their bid to regulate AI, had cast a wide net. This system, despite its simplicity, was now caught in the tangle of red tape. The very qualities that made it so effective—its straightforward design, its ease of use—were now the reasons it faced shutdown. It was a victim of its classification.

The garden’s caretaker, once thrilled with the system’s flawless performance, was now filled with apprehension. The simplicity that made the sun clock and its watering system a joy to use was being scrutinized through the lens of regulatory compliance. It didn’t matter that this wasn’t AI in the traditional sense, or that it was enhancing life in ways that complex systems often failed to do. It was classified as AI, and that was enough to seal its fate.

In the end, the story of the sun clock became a cautionary tale about the unintended consequences of regulation. It highlighted the absurdity of a world where a device so simple and beneficial could be threatened by the very frameworks designed to manage more complex technologies. The irony was that in trying to control AI, the authorities were stifling innovation and progress, even in places where AI was making the most tangible, positive difference.