Data contracts in the age of agents that write back
My nephew Baruch spent a summer “helping” in my mother’s kitchen. He meant well. He also moved the salt to where the sugar used to be, because in his opinion that made more sense, and he never told anyone. Three weeks later my aunt made a brisket that could strip paint, and the investigation took longer than the brisket did.
Autoencoders: Or, How to Compress Everything You Know Into Two Numbers and Still Recognize Your Cousin
Mathityahu had a cousin — Devorah — who kept every photograph the family had ever taken. Shoeboxes. Closets. An entire drawer dedicated solely to blurry Bar Mitzvah photos from 1994. Her apartment was one fire hazard away from a documentary.