Dear L, There are these new breed of computer software, called neural networks that can classify images; For example, labelling an image of a dog as “dog”, or a cat photo as “cat”. The natural question to ask would be, “So does the neural network know what a cat or…
Dear L, For a long time, I didn't subscribe to the ideas that advocates augmentation of our minds. The idea of designing tools to transform information exchange was never appealing to me. I assumed, every piece of transient information could remain in my mind; Augmenting that process was synonymous to…
Dear L, I have been asked many a times, if I had a choice, what superpower I would like to have. It’s a fairly straightforward question. For me the answer was usually simple, flying, time travel, underwater breathing, the regular tropes, inspired by TV shows and Hollywood. After experiencing…
Dear L, A calendar hangs above my table; The table where I write these letters to you every week. It’s a flip calendar, and on start of every month, it showcases a new picture. This month’s picture depicts an ancient community of people baking flatbread on a flat…
Dear L, Fear of ghosts, or anything spooky is a very unique kind of fear. It’s very different than fear of losing a job, or rejection, or burning stew. It’s a very primal kind of fear. I grew up in a town where chronic electricity outages was the…
Dear L, When I was a kid, my Father got two books. They were tattered high school library copies from the United States; Somehow those wound up in my Father’s hands. They still had the library cards attached to the first page. The books were about moon landing. Little…
Dear L, If you have ever worked in a Chemistry laboratory, you probably have come accross balances, usually used to measure amounts of chemicals to certain degrees of precision. On these jewelers’ tools encased in a glass boxes, the balance arm, rests on a socket, until you turn a knob…
Dear L, If you ever find me on an evening, on front of a TV, mashing buttons, as my character in video game failing over and over, you won’t be hard pressed to think that I might be flirting with insanity. If you ever asked me the question, why…