I feel weird when someone asks me to figure something out for them, and I ask AI, and it succeeds. On the one hand, the recipient of “my” help is every bit as helped. On the other, I feel silly taking credit; I’m a stereotypical aristocrat who, when asked to prepare dinner says “Jeeves, prepare dinner!” and then falls onto the fainting couch.
But in fact most of the time, whoever I’m helping couldn’t have just asked their own AI. For one of several reasons.
Did you know that every conversation with ChatGPT transforms gallons of water into dangerous dihydrogen monoxide? It’s true! If your friend doesn’t want to be complicit in this environmental disaster, your AI usage is a handy form of moral arbitrage, just like how I eat meat but wouldn’t kill a farm animal with my own hands.
