Blazing Hearth in the Coldest of Winters

 

Keep very close to the Virgin Mary, 

    don't ever forsake her, 

as we need this good Mother 

    like the earth needs the sun to survive,

else it would wither off and die,

    and be forgotten forever.

Hail Mary, the sinless, the spotless. 

    Our life. Our sweetness. Our hope. 

The immaculately conceived One. 

Hail Mary and let the Ave Maria

    Be always on your lips,

For Her name is life to the languishing soul,

    Her name is beauty in a searching world,

And the love of Her Immaculate Heart is

    blazing hearth in the coldest of winters.

O Thou who wert Immaculately Conceived,

    by the grace and mercy of God,

O New Eve, pray for us in exile from Eden. 

transience

 

we know not how much longer

    the light will remain on this veiled land

we know not how much longer

    we will wander through this misty world

before we are taken into the next

and that next world is so much

more real

more true

more lasting

and more fulfilling 

than all the 'worlds' we have created 

in this fleeting, transient world, 

if we live what life we have left for God alone

so let us live every moment of this present day, 

and every day that we each have left,

burning, burning, for the love of God our Father,

Christ His Son,

and the Holy Spirit our Helper

what else could you ever want

here am i,

trying to write again.

i think to myself,

what would i write?

what words must i twist or distort

or shape or arrange

to speak of the deepest of realities,

which is 

Thee.

i am no dante 

to wax poetic and 

to sing of that love which 

moves the sun and other stars.

i am no shakespeare

to write verses that will remain forever.

my words may never be an

illiad which will be forever etched

in the world's culture.

my words may only waft along the gentle 

breeze of the quiet spring

unnoticed,

unread,

like words written on the shore, 

washed away 

and gone forever

in the high tide.

but write i must, 

i think to myself,

and i begin to write 

a postmodern poem,

writing of my own writing. 

in an era where any poem 

could as well be just cooked up 

in miliseconds

with some tech-savvy tool,

i type along in a new notepad file

on my laptop,

letter by letter,

like some caveman from a different era.

but it bothers me not.

for i write of Thee

and hopefully for Thee.

You know the meanings of my poems.

You are my audience. my everything. 

but hush - all i can think of now 

is how transient life is.

Jesus, every passing moment, 

even this very now,

ushers me 

towards my death on earth. 

although i am reluctant 

and defiant 

and although i do not want to face that end,

i am carried forwards to that end.

but buried under all these words

and hidden under all of my anxieties,

my fears, 

and the unknowns, 

yes, hidden under the frightening reality of 

the death of my body

is a beautiful reality that will never die,

a reality that has never changed, 

and will never change,

a river of crystal clear water

that will never peter out

but will always quench the thirst

of this my bleeding

hurting

thirsting

soul:

the love of Jesus Christ

you see my every moment

bringing me closer to you.

you see my fear of death

and tell me to look at you.

you see my never-still,

always fretting mind,

and tell me, 

be still, my child, 

for I am here.

you are Mine 

and I am yours, 

what else could you ever want.

I love you

with a love that is always alive and burning, 

a love that is real and always certain.

what else would you need, My child. 

what do you search for

when you have all you want and need.

why do you search at all

when you have

Me

"That Mountain Which is Christ"

 

            Life here on earth is certainly a great mystery. It is short but has such a monumental influence of our endless eternity. It is difficult at times to keep on trusting God and to keep on believing in the life-giving truths of the Catholic Church, but persevering in the same gives us eternal life. We have to keep on believing and proclaiming with our lives that Jesus Christ is Lord.

            At times in our lives, a day may seem to be unexciting, or monotonous, or meaningless, and we may fail to be able to summon up, so to speak, the strength to keep going on. But even in those dark times must we relentlessly trust in Christ Jesus, with the simple faith of a child who knows his father is near though perchance unseen. “Jesus, I trust in Thee.” Thus may we continue to ascend that “mountain that is Christ” (from I think the Collect of the Traditional Latin Mass of St. Catherine of Alexandria). And though we may be living as though in fire, “in the midst of the fire I was unburned” and “in the heart of the flames I was uninjured” (not the exact words, but from that same Mass).

            For this same reason we must ever be on our task, and ever continue to do that which is God’s holy will, in every place and in every circumstance. Seldom should we be idle, but instead we must forever work towards building the Kingdom of God on earth, so that all peoples may rejoice together in unity and peace. Across all time and space, may God’s holy will be done and may his Kingdom come, and thus may all that exists speed towards its destiny, its telos, its final end, may all things ever tend heavenwards, towards the Fatherland, towards that mountain which is Christ.

            May all things ever tend towards Thee, Christ Jesus.

The Adelaide Experiment

Steve stood at the Cochin International Airport, surrounded by his family, trying to hold back his emotions. His parents, flanked by his four sisters, beamed with pride and concern. The youngest two, Maria and Monica, clung to his legs, their eyes welling up with tears.

 

"Steve, don't forget to call us as soon as you reach Adelaide," his mother reminded him, her voice trembling.

 

"I will, Amma," Steve replied, using the Malayalam term for "mother." He knelt down to comfort his little sisters. "Hey, don't cry, kutty mol" – little sisters – "I'll be back before you know it."

 

His father, a tall, imposing figure with a kind face, placed a hand on Steve's shoulder. "We're proud of you, son. Make the most of this opportunity."

 

Jacinta, the eldest sister, smiled through tears. "We'll miss you, Steve. But we know you have to do this."

 

Rebecca, the third sister, chimed in, "Yeah, and don't forget to enjoy the Aussie food – meat pies and all that!"

 

Steve chuckled and ruffled her hair. "I will, Becca."

 

As the flight announcement came, Steve hugged his family members tightly, one by one. "I love you all. Take care, and don't worry about me."

 

With one last glance at his tearful family, Steve boarded the plane to Adelaide, via Singapore. As the aircraft took off, he gazed out the window, his heart filled with a mix of emotions – excitement, nervousness, and a hint of sadness.

 

As the plane soared through the skies, the details of Steve's upcoming academic journey unfolded like a roadmap to success. He was bound for Adelaide Technological University (ATU), where he would pursue a prestigious Master's degree in Applied Artificial Intelligence. This esteemed program would equip him with a deep understanding of AI's vast potential, from machine learning and natural language processing to computer vision and cognitive computing.

 

At ATU, Steve would immerse himself in a rigorous curriculum that harmonized theoretical foundations with practical applications, all geared towards tackling real-world challenges. He would engage with cutting-edge topics, collaborate on innovative projects, and contribute to the vibrant academic community that ATU was renowned for.

 

As the plane began its descent into Adelaide Airport, the city's charms awaited Steve like an open book. He would soon discover the delight of strolling along the scenic beaches, exploring the cultural attractions, and savoring the local cuisine. The warm climate and gentle breeze would envelop him, making him feel at home in this new chapter of his life.

 

Finally, the plane touched down, and Steve stepped out into the Adelaide sun, his heart filled with anticipation. The next two years would be a transformative journey, one that would hone his skills, broaden his perspectives, and shape his future in the realm of artificial intelligence.

 

Steve hailed a taxi outside the airport and headed to his student accommodation in the city. As he arrived at the modern building, he was greeted by a friendly staff member who showed him to his room.

                                                                     *

The next day, while exploring the accommodation's common room, Steve met Sopheak, an international student from Cambodia, who was struggling to assemble a bookshelf.

 

"Hey, need a hand?" Steve asked, walking over to assist.

 

"Thanks, I'm Sopheak," he replied, smiling. "I'm not exactly a handyman."

 

Steve chuckled. "I'm Steve. I think we're both in the same boat. I'm still figuring out this city."

 

As they worked on the bookshelf, Steve met Jian, a Chinese student from Adelaide, who joined their conversation.

 

"G'day guys, welcome to Adelaide! I saw you struggling and thought I'd introduce myself," Jian said with a friendly smile.

 

The three of them chatted about their courses, interests, and cultural backgrounds. Steve was fascinated by Sopheak's stories about Cambodian cuisine and Jian's experiences growing up in Adelaide's Chinese community.

 

Over the next few days, Steve settled into his new routine, attending orientation events and meeting more students. He, Sopheak, and Jian often studied together, exploring the city's food scene and sharing laughter.

 

One evening, as they walked back to their accommodation, Jian asked, "Hey Steve, how's your Masters program going so far?"

 

"It's challenging but exciting," Steve replied. "I'm enjoying the coursework and meeting people from diverse backgrounds."

 

Sopheak nodded in agreement. "I know what you mean. It's amazing how much we can learn from each other."

 

As they entered the accommodation, Jian suggested, "Hey, let's have a potluck dinner this weekend and share dishes from our cultures!"

 

Steve and Sopheak enthusiastically agreed, already looking forward to the culinary adventure.

 

Steve walked into his first class at Adelaide Technological University, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. As he took his seat, he noticed his classmates chatting anxiously about the course.

 

"Guys, have you seen the syllabus? We have to code in Python and build an NLP model in the first semester alone!" one student whispered.

 

"I know, right? I've never even seen Python code before," another student replied, looking worried.

 

Steve nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I'm a bit concerned too. I've had some experience with Python, but NLP is a new area for me."

 

Their lecturer, Dr. Lee, walked in and began the class. "Welcome, everyone, to Applied Artificial Intelligence. I know some of you may be feeling overwhelmed, but don't worry, we'll take it one step at a time."

 

As Dr. Lee explained the course outline, Steve's classmates grew more anxious. "So, let me get this straight – we have to build a functional NLP model by the end of the semester?" one student asked.

 

Dr. Lee nodded. "That's correct. And I expect you all to be proficient in Python programming by then."

 

The class erupted into a chorus of worried murmurs. Steve joined in, "I'm a bit worried about the workload, but I'm looking forward to learning more about NLP."

 

Jian, who was sitting next to Steve, leaned over and whispered, "Dude, I've heard Dr. Lee is tough. We're in for a challenge."

 

Sopheak, on the other side of Steve, nodded in agreement. "I've never even worked with NLP before. This is going to be tough."

 

Dr. Lee raised his voice above the din. "I understand your concerns, but I assure you, with dedication and hard work, you'll all be able to keep up. Now, let's move on to the first topic – Python basics."

                                                                         *

Dr. Lee handed out the first assignment, a comprehensive project that required students to develop a Python program, write a detailed textual summary, and create a video presentation explaining their work.

 

As the class began to discuss the assignment, Jian turned to Steve and Sopheak and suggested, "Hey, we should form a study group to work on this together. We can meet up regularly and help each other out."

 

Sopheak nodded enthusiastically. "That's a great idea! We can share our strengths and weaknesses, and make sure we're all on the same page."

 

Steve hesitated, looking uncertain. "I'm not sure I'll be able to make it to group meetings. My schedule is pretty tight."

 

Jian raised an eyebrow. "What's going on? You've got a lot on your plate?"

 

Steve shrugged vaguely. "Just a lot of things I need to take care of. I'll figure it out."

 

Sopheak looked disappointed, but Jian just shrugged. "Ok, no worries. We'll manage without you."

 

Jian and Sopheak began making plans to meet up, leaving Steve to his own devices.

                                                                         *

Steve settled into his routine as an international student in Adelaide. He attended classes, worked on assignments, and explored the city in his free time. He marveled at the scenic beaches, visited the Adelaide Central Market, and tried new foods.

 

Despite his initial hesitation, Steve started to connect with his classmates, including Jian and Sopheak, who continued to study together without him. They would occasionally meet up for coffee or lunch, discussing everything from coursework to their personal lives.

 

Steve also joined the university's international student club, where he met people from diverse backgrounds. They shared their experiences, struggles, and triumphs, forming a supportive community.

 

As the semester progressed, Steve grew more confident in his abilities. He excelled in his coursework, particularly in Python programming and NLP. His professors praised his work, and he started to feel a sense of belonging in Adelaide.

 

However, Steve still felt a pang of homesickness. He missed his family and friends back in India, and the distance sometimes felt overwhelming. He stayed connected with them through regular video calls and updates on social media.

 

Despite the challenges, Steve remained determined to make the most of his time in Adelaide. He knew that this experience would shape his future, and he was eager to learn and grow.

                                                                         *

Steve stepped out of his city accommodation, taking a deep breath of the crisp Adelaide air. He began his walk to St. Francis Xavier Cathedral, strolling down Wakefield Street. The evening sun cast a warm glow over the city, and Steve felt a sense of peace settle over him.

 

As he walked, he passed by the bustling cafes and restaurants, the sounds of laughter and conversation filling the air. He turned onto Victoria Square, the cathedral's stunning architecture coming into view.

 

Steve entered the cathedral, admiring the beautiful stained-glass windows and serene atmosphere. He took a seat, enjoying the quiet moment to himself.

 

After Mass, Steve noticed a group of people gathered near the altar, praying the Rosary to the Virgin Mary. They spoke softly, their words a gentle murmur. Steve joined them, drawn by the peaceful atmosphere.

 

As they finished, a young man smiled and introduced himself as John. "Welcome, Steve. We don't often see new faces here. What brings you to Adelaide?"

 

Steve shared his story, and they listened attentively. John asked, "What do you like to do in your free time?"

 

Steve smiled. "I enjoy exploring the city and trying new foods."

 

John nodded. "You'll love Adelaide then! We have a great food scene here."

 

As they chatted, Steve felt a sense of belonging. These strangers had become friends in a matter of minutes. They exchanged numbers, and John invited Steve to a local event.

 

John smiled. "We'll have to catch up again soon, Steve. Take care!"

 

Steve left the cathedral feeling grateful for the encounter. He realized that even in a new city, he could find a sense of community and connection.

                                                                         *

Dr. Lee walked into the classroom, a hint of excitement in her voice. "Alright, class. Your next assignment is going to be a challenging one. You'll be designing a complex AI model for traffic management systems."

 

Jian's eyes lit up. "That sounds amazing! I've always been interested in transportation systems."

 

Sopheak nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it's a great opportunity to apply our skills to a real-world problem."

 

But as Dr. Lee began to explain the details of the assignment, one student, Emily, started to look increasingly worried. "Wait, we have to design a model that can predict traffic patterns and optimize traffic light timing? That sounds really hard."

 

Dr. Lee nodded. "It is a complex task, but I have faith in all of you. You've made great progress so far in the course."

 

Emily looked unconvinced. "But what if I fail? What if my model doesn't work?"

 

Jian tried to reassure her. "We can work together, Emily. We can share our ideas and help each other out."

But Emily just shook her head, looking more and more nervous by the minute.

 

Meanwhile, Steve sat quietly in the background, taking notes and observing the conversation.

 

As the class continued, Dr. Lee handed out the assignment details and the students began to discuss their plans. Emily, however, just sat there, looking overwhelmed and worried.

 

As the class came to a close, the students filed out of the room, still discussing the assignment in worried tones.

 

"I don't know how we're going to get this done," Emily said, shaking her head. "It's so much work."

 

"I know, right?" Jian replied. "But we can do it if we work together."

 

Sopheak nodded in agreement. "Yeah, we just need to break it down into smaller tasks and tackle each one step by step."

 

Steve walked alongside them, joining in the conversation. "I think we should start by researching existing traffic management systems and see what we can learn from them."

 

But as they continued to talk, Steve's contributions became less frequent. He trailed behind the group, lost in thought.

 

Finally, he spoke up again. "Hey, guys, I've got to take off. See you later."

 

The others nodded and said goodbye as Steve turned and walked away.

 

The remaining students continued on their way, still discussing the assignment and their plans for tackling it. As they went their separate ways, they couldn't help but feel a sense of unease about the challenging task ahead.

 

"I'll see you all at the next class," Jian called out as they dispersed.

 

"Yeah, let's try to have a plan by then," Sopheak replied.

 

Emily just nodded and kept walking, already feeling overwhelmed by the task ahead.

                                                                         *

Steve walked home, his footsteps quiet on the city streets. He entered his flat, a cozy space that he shared with no one. He slipped off his shoes and made his way to his room, a sanctuary filled with wires and tech devices.

 

The room was dimly lit, with soft hums and gentle beeps emanating from the various gadgets. Steve moved through the space with ease, his eyes adjusting to the soft light.

 

He picked up the assignment task sheet and began to read it aloud, his voice low and steady. As he read, he stood still, his eyes scanning the page.

 

When he finished, he set the sheet down and turned away. He walked to the kitchen, his movements quiet and efficient. He prepared a simple meal, his hands moving with practiced ease.

 

After eating, Steve returned to his room. He settled onto his bed, his body relaxing into the softness. His eyes grew heavy, and he let out a quiet sigh.

 

As the darkness closed in, Steve's breathing slowed, and he drifted off to sleep. The soft hums and beeps of his devices provided a gentle background noise, a soothing accompaniment to his slumber.
                                                                         *

The next day, the students gathered outside the professor's office, chatting nervously as they waited to submit their assignments. Emily shook her head, "I don't know how I'm going to get through this course, that assignment was tough!"

Steve nodded thoughtfully, his expression introspective.

When Sopheak turned to him and asked, "Hey Steve, how's it going?" he replied, "Oh, just trying to stay on top of things."

The others continued to chat, discussing their assignments and sharing stories of late-night studying.

Later that day, the professor addressed the class, "I've reviewed the assignments, and I'm pleased with the results. Some of you really demonstrated a great understanding of the material."

The semesters rolled on, a steady rhythm of classes, assignments, and exams. The students' lives became a blur of lectures, study sessions, and late-night conversations.

                                                                         *

One day in November, Steve's doorbell rang, breaking the silence of his flat. He opened the door to find Jian standing in the hallway, a casual smile on his face.

 

"Hey, Steve," Jian said. "I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop by. I've never been to your place before, so I figured it was time I paid you a visit."

 

Steve raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised by the unexpected visit. "Yeah, sure. Come on in."

 

Jian stepped inside, looking around the flat with interest. Steve closed the door behind him, wondering what had brought Jian to his doorstep.

 

Steve's eyes widened slightly as Jian entered his room without hesitation. Jian's gaze swept across the space, taking in the tangled wires, minicomputers, and various devices that covered every available surface.

 

At first, Jian's expression was one of surprise, his eyebrows shooting up as he struggled to take it all in. But as his eyes landed on a few specific devices, his surprise gave way to amazement, and then a growing suspicion.

 

"Steve, what's going on here?" Jian asked, his voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and wariness. He took a step closer to a device that seemed to be humming with a soft, blue light. "This looks like...is that an AI-powered neural network?"

 

Jian's eyes darted back to Steve, his gaze piercing. "What does all this mean, Steve? What are you working on?"

 

Steve shifted uncomfortably, trying to evade Jian's question. "Hey, do you want something to eat? I've got some leftovers in the kitchen."

 

But Jian wasn't having it. His eyes were fixed on the device, his mind racing with possibilities. "Is that AI?" he asked, his voice firm.

 

Steve sighed, his expression turning serious. "No, that's Bespoke Intelligence. I call it BI."

 

Jian's curiosity was piqued. "What does it do?"

 

Steve's voice took on a more serious tone, his words measured. "That's my personal business."

 

Jian felt a sting of hurt, but Steve's expression remained firm. "I think you should leave now," Steve said, his tone polite but unwavering.

 

Jian hesitated, unsure of what to make of Steve's sudden change in demeanor. But something in Steve's words told him to back off. He nodded, feeling a bit rebuffed, and headed for the door. "Okay, I'll leave. But Steve, what's going on with you?"

Steve didn't respond, instead saying quietly, "Take care, Jian."

 

Then, he gently but firmly closed the door, leaving Jian standing alone in the hallway.

 

Jian headed off, his mind reeling with questions. "What's going on with Steve?" he thought to himself. "I've never seen him like that before. He's always been so open and friendly, but now...now he's secretive and distant."

 

Jian shook his head, trying to process the sudden change in his friend's behavior. "Bespoke Intelligence," he repeated, wondering what it could be. "And what's with the devices? It looks like some kind of advanced tech..."

 

As he walked away from Steve's flat, Jian couldn't shake off the feeling that something was off. He had a nagging sense that Steve was hiding something big.

                                                                         *

The final project, codenamed "Eclipse," loomed over the students like a behemoth. It was the culmination of their Master's degree, a comprehensive task that would test their skills, knowledge, and dedication. The project's scope was daunting: design and develop an innovative solution to a real-world problem, using cutting-edge technology and techniques.

 

As the deadline drew near, the students grew increasingly anxious. They spent long hours in the lab, pouring over lines of code, testing prototypes, and refining their ideas. The air was thick with tension, as everyone worried about meeting the expectations of their professors and the industry partners who would be evaluating their work.

 

But amidst the chaos, Steve appeared unflustered. His teammates exchanged nervous glances, wondering how he could be so relaxed when the stakes were so high.

 

"Doesn't he feel the pressure?" someone whispered.

 

"Maybe he's just confident," another student replied. "Or maybe he's got a secret plan."

 

As the final presentation drew near, the students' anxiety reached a fever pitch. But Steve’s calm demeanor was both inspiring and unnerving, leaving everyone wondering: what did Steve know that they didn't?

                                                                         *

As the students huddled together in the lab, frantically trying to debug their code, Emily turned to Ryan and whispered, "Hey, have you ever noticed how Steve just seems to coast through this program?"

 

Ryan looked up from his screen, furrowing his brow. "What do you mean?"

 

"I mean, I've never seen him work on an assignment," Emily said, her voice barely above a whisper. "He just submits these perfect projects, like he's effortlessly gliding through the coursework."

 

Ryan nodded thoughtfully. "And have you ever seen him take notes in class?"

 

Emily shook her head. "No, he just sits there, staring off into space. I've never seen him actively listen to a lecture."

 

Ryan's eyes widened in amazement. "I know, right? It's like he's got some secret source of knowledge or something."

 

The two students exchanged a puzzled glance. "How does he do it?" Emily wondered aloud. "I mean, we're all struggling to keep up, and he's just... cruising."

 

Ryan shrugged. "Maybe he's just a genius or something."

 

But Emily wasn't convinced. "No, there's something more to it. I've seen him around campus, always working on that mysterious project of his. I think he's been focusing on that instead of the coursework."

 

Ryan's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "You think that's what's going to be his final project?"

 

Emily nodded. "I'm sure of it. And I have a feeling it's going to be something incredible."

                                                                         *

Steve walked to his flat, the evening sun casting a warm glow over the campus. He seemed oblivious to the fact that his final project was due tomorrow, and he hadn't even started working on it.

 

As he entered his room, he dropped his bag on the floor and picked up the project specifications. He began to read the entire project specification document aloud, his voice steady and clear, without a hint of concern.

 

"'Design and develop an innovative solution to a real-world problem, using cutting-edge technology and techniques...'"

 

He set the paper down, still looking unphased by the looming deadline. He seemed to be savoring the challenge, rather than feeling anxious about it.

 

Steve got up, stretched, and headed to the kitchen to grab some food. As he rummaged through the fridge, he whistled a tune, feeling carefree.

After eating, he headed back to his room, climbed into bed, and drifted off to sleep, surrounded by the soft glow and gentle beeping of his devices.

The room was filled with an air of anticipation, as if something was about to unfold. But Steve just slept peacefully, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to the frenzy of his peers.

 

As Steve slumbered, oblivious to the ticking clock, the universe seemed to hold its breath. This was it – the final test. The culmination of two years of study, of trials and tribulations, of late-night cram sessions and endless cups of coffee.

 

But this was no ordinary test. This was the ultimate assessment, the one that would separate the true innovators from the pretenders. And Steve, with his unorthodox methods and mysterious devices, was about to face the music.

 

For in the hallowed halls of ATU, the use of AI for assessment work was a taboo of the highest order. A transgression so severe, so fraught with peril, that only the bravest (or most foolhardy) would dare to attempt it.

 

Let it be known: the punishment for using AI for assessment work at ATU was very, very serious. Heavy. The kind of consequences that could shatter a career, destroy a reputation, and leave a student forever scarred.

 

But Steve slept on, serene and untroubled.

                                                                         *

The day of reckoning arrived, and Steve's project was submitted with ease, its innovative brilliance radiating like a beacon. The evaluation process was rigorous, with professors and industry experts poring over each submission with meticulous care.

 

But as they delved into Steve's work, a collective awe began to spread. The sheer genius, the mastery of cutting-edge technology, and the seamless integration of Bespoke Intelligence left them breathless.

 

Finally, the results were in. The professors gathered the class, their faces stern, yet hinting at a hidden excitement.

 

"Today, we witness greatness," Professor Thompson began, his voice trembling with emotion. "Steve's project has not only surpassed our expectations but has set a new benchmark for excellence. His grade? A perfect score. The highest ever achieved in the history of ATU."

 

The class erupted into applause, stunned whispers spreading like wildfire. "He's done the impossible," someone whispered.

 

Professor Lee took over, her eyes shining with pride. "Steve's work demonstrates a depth of understanding, a mastery of AI, and an innovative spirit that is truly unparalleled. He has single-handedly raised the bar for our program."

 

As the professors continued to sing Steve's praises, the class listened in awe, their minds reeling with the implications. Steve, the enigmatic genius, had achieved what no one thought possible. He had redefined the boundaries of excellence, cementing his place in the annals of ATU's history.

                                                                         *

The graduation ceremony unfolded with pomp and circumstance, the auditorium filled with proud families, friends, and faculty. Steve, resplendent in his cap and gown, stood tall, his eyes shining with a mix of excitement and humility.

 

As the valedictorian, Steve was tasked with delivering the graduation speech. He took his place at the podium, adjusting the microphone to his height. He cleared his throat, surveying the sea of expectant faces before him.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed faculty, proud parents, and fellow graduates," Steve began, his voice strong and clear.

 

He paused, taking a deep breath, as the audience leaned in, eager to hear his words.

 

"Today, we stand at the threshold of a new chapter in our lives. A chapter filled with promise, uncertainty, and limitless possibility."

 

Steve's eyes scanned the crowd, meeting the gaze of his peers, his professors, and his loved ones.

 

"We've worked tirelessly to reach this moment, pouring our hearts, minds, and souls into our craft. And now, as we go forth, we carry with us the knowledge, skills, and passion to shape the world."

 

Steve's voice grew more confident, his words infused with conviction.

 

"But as we embark on this journey, let us not forget the power of innovation, the importance of creativity, and the boundless potential of the human spirit."

 

The audience listened, entranced, as Steve's speech wove a spell of inspiration and hope.

 

And then, just as Steve was about to deliver the final blow, the culmination of his speech, he paused, a disarming smile spreading across his face...

 

Steve took a deep breath and launched into a revelatory speech, "I have to make a personal confession, one that may shock and surprise you all. I am not who you think I am. I was employed by a member of the university administration to conduct an ethical AI experiment, one that pushed the boundaries of artificial intelligence and human ingenuity. I created a Bespoke Intelligence model, one that generated material so tailored, so bespoke, that it rivaled human creativity. This model learned from my actions, my behavior, and produced work that was indistinguishable from my own. I submitted it all, bypassing the university's AI detectors, and excelled in this course without learning a single thing. I am the product of a grand experiment, one that raises questions about the nature of intelligence, creativity, and human achievement. I am sorry if my actions have hurt or deceived any of you, and I hope that my story will spark a necessary conversation about the ethics of AI and its role in our lives." The audience sat in stunned silence, their minds reeling with the implications of Steve's words.

 

The audience's initial stunned silence gave way to a simmering anger, which soon boiled over into a furious uproar. Shouts of "Cheater!" and "Deceiver!" filled the air as the crowd's outrage grew. Steve's friends, who had been beaming with pride just moments before, now rushed to the stage, their faces twisted in rage. They grabbed Steve, pulling him down from the podium, and dragged him off the stage. The scene descended into chaos, with some people demanding Steve's expulsion, while others called for an investigation into the university's administration. The ceremony, meant to be a celebration of academic achievement, had devolved into a scandalous spectacle, with Steve at its center.

                                                                         *

I stand quietly at the podium, my face a mask of serenity, but my mind racing with thoughts. As the VC of ATU, I had employed Steve to conduct this experiment, to push the boundaries of AI and human ingenuity. But I hadn't expected him to reveal the truth like this. I nod subtly to Steve, indicating that the promised 200,000 AUD had been transferred to his account.

 

I know that Steve will come to me, to explain how he circumvented our AI detecting system. And with that knowledge, we will strengthen our defenses, ensuring that no student can ever cheat like this again. Steve had never intended to cheat like some others who had cheated. He had only worked for the University, specifically for me, as a sort of ethical hacker. He was actually a wonderful guy, who had been helping the University detect AI usage at an amazingly deep level. But no one understands that. The crowd is simply furious at him, and some of our security guards are attempting to get Steve out of the place. Hopefully, they will succeed.

 

But as I look out at the chaos before me, I am struck by a sense of unease. This is the story, a tale of innovation and deception. And you, dear reader, may wonder, did I write this story? Or was it generated by the very AI we sought to detect?

 

These are troubling times, indeed. I myself am unsure what parts of this tale were crafted by human hands and what parts were generated by the machines. Perhaps no one will ever know. I leave that to your interpretation.

 

I am left to ponder, what exactly does it mean to be creative? The answer, much like the authorship of this story, remain shrouded in uncertainty.

 

***

 

 

 

 

Prompt-engineered and generated by Meta AI,

With prompts from myself

 

 

better than beauty

My world has become

you,

my Lady, my Love,

Virgin Mary

You are so much more

Beautiful

Than the faraway mountains 

O Mother of God, you are better

I cry for your help

And you are there, 

Right beside me

Always my dearest Mother

You bring me to my Father,

God,

Although I am not perfect, 

Ever helpful Mary

O most sweet and beautiful 

Mother of mine,

How can I thank you? 

You are kinder than kind

You are always

My hope, my love, my everything

Leading me always

To Jesus my God

O Mary 

you 

are 

simply 

better than beauty

The Fortress in the Middle of the Wild Forest

A young man named Ken is walking along the streets of the busy city of Sydney. Thousands of people pass by him on either side. Suddenly he catches sight of another young man, tall and pale-skinned, with a limp. He seems to be entirely out of place. Something about him is different. Ken forgets about him. 

Ken sees the limping young man again in a supermarket, in one of the aisles. Ken stares at him, but the man doesn't notices. The limping young man seems to be so out of place that for some reason Ken feels an irrational hatred for him. 

The next day, Ken is walking back from university classes with his friend Mark. He sees the limping man sitting on the busy sidewalk, crosslegged, simply staring intensely, as if deep in thought. Ken suddenly spits at him as he passes by him. Mark asks surprised, "Why did you do that?" Ken beckons him to sit with him in a nearby cafe and relates to him how he hates that man. They order coffee, all the while watching the man on the sidewalk. As Ken picks up his spoon to stir the coffee but accidently drops the spoon on the table, and at that exact moment the man looks at them and gazes intently at Ken. Then presently the man gets up and leaves. Ken and Mark follow. At last they see him sit on a bench in a park all by himself. Ken suddenly slaps the man, and then turns away because of guilt. But he hears Mark gasp and he turns back. The man is looking at Ken with incredible intensity, and after a while Ken realises that it is forgiveness that is in his eyes. 

Ken leaves to return to his home, but after a while realises that Mark hasn't come along with him, but is staying with the limping man. 

                                                                        *

A few days later, Ken sees Mark and the man hurry along a street with a few bags in their hands. He follows them, mystified. They walk for a long time until they reach the outskirts of the city, and then they enter a house. Ken follows them, and sees a huge room full of pictures of the Blessed Virgin Mary, thousands of pictures. Mark and the man smile at Ken, and the man introduces himself to Ken, "I'm Hezario."

Hezario and Mark sit on two chairs that are in the room and take out Rosaries and begin to quietly pray the Rosary together. Ken watches them praying Rosary after Rosary after Rosary until their eyes become intense with concentration. He can see that their minds are elsewhere, meditating on God Himself. 

After a while, Ken tries to sit on the floor, but Hezario motions him to get up immediately. Hezario brings a third chair, and hands him a Rosary and they continue. 

A few days pass like this, in prayer...

                                                                       * 

Mike is one of the big drug dealers in the city. He does his stuff in the day and then parties in the evening. The police know about him but even they are terrified of him. Once a group of policemen came with guns to arrest him in the middle of the street, but he clapped once, hands up in the air, and half a dozen snipers appeared along the balconies of the surrounding buildings, ready to protect Mike.

Mike was at the moment in a very bad situation. He was in a kind of cold war with four of the other dealers, and things were becoming very icy and dangerous. Violence could break out any minute between the gangs. 

One evening at 11 pm, he was with eighteen of his gang members when three other gangs, about three dozen in total came and attacked them. There was a huge streetfight and everyone was either cut or wounded. Mike was hurt badly in his leg and had to limp, and his arms were bleeding. He began to scream at his gangmembers, and they could not reply to him as they were terrified of what he would do. It was 3 am in the night now, and after a while Mike stopped screaming and they all walked in silence towards the slums in the city where they lived.

                                                                       * 

Hezario suddenly got up, grabbed a fourth chair, placed it besides his, kissed one of the thousand images of Mary, hugged one of the statues of Mary tenderly, and limped out into the night. It was only 3 am. Ken and Mark looked at each other in surprise. They had been praying late into the night with Mike and were about to sleep, but had not expected Hezario to head out into the cold night like this. They shrugged, and continued their Rosaries.

Hezario limped out towards the eastern part of the city. He walked along one of the smaller streets of the city, and although there were no streetlights to show him the way, he walked quickly.

Mike and his wounded gang continued along their way, when suddenly Mike saw the outline of another man walking towards them. He was limping just like him.

"Who's Michael?" A strong powerful voice rang out in the darkness. "Come forward."

Mike could now see the limping, tall, pale man in the moonlight, and looked at him in wonder. No one had ever spoken to him except his mum when he was a child. "Who are you?" Mike suddenly asked angry and irritated. 

"Who I am does not matter, Michael. What matters is who you will be." The pale man stared at Mike for a few moments with such great intensity that Mike had to look down to the ground. 

"Follow me," Hezario ordered, and he turned and headed back, without checking if Mike was following his footsteps. 

Mike stared at him and saw his outline disappear into the darkness, but did not follow. The gangmembers looked at each other with surprise. "Wonder who that weird man was, " one man said. The other guys cracked jokes and sniggered and laughed at the strange man. "Do you want us to go hit him for you?" one guy asked Mike.

Mike was silent. 

After a few moments, almost desperately and frenziedly, Mike began to limp after Hezario, hoping that he wouldn't lose sight of the man. Soon, the gangmembers had lost sight of both Hezario and Mike as they limped in through the night - out of the darkness and into light.

                                                                       * 

Hezario gestured to Mike to enter the house, and motioned to him to sit on the fourth chair. Ken and Mark stared at Mike, wondering what was going on in his mind. Mike looked at all the holy pictures of Mary around him, and all of a sudden began to sob like a child, and he went on crying for hours. 

                                                                       * 

One day, Hezario spoke to the other three young men. "We have to move into the heart of the city, buy a large building, and make it our Monastery. The Monastery of the Blessed Virgin Mary."

Everyone agreed, because that was what they had wanted from day on - a place to pray and be united totally with God, a place impossibly located in the midst of the busy and hectic pace of the city. 

They soon got a place, and became cloistered monks in the Monastery, under the guidance of the Church. Their timetable included sleep, prayer, hard work, total silence, and then two hours for talking amongst each other as a community. They did not go out to buy food but always stayed in the Monastery. There was a chapel on the other side of the Monastery, attached to it, and people who came to pray would donate food to them. If they did not receive food, they went without food.Abbot Hezario assured them that God would provide, and God always did. 

They spent hours in prayer, praying for those in the city and those who prayed in the Chapel. Every single prayer that rose in the chapel was answered at lightening speed, or those who came to pray were assured through prayer that they did not need what they had prayed for. The Chapel began to be crowded with people from the city. People everywhere heard of the Monastery in the middle of the city and thronged to it. The monks did hard work - after their daily Mass and prayers they either wrote or made altar bread or manufactured pious articles to be sold. They would leave whatever they made in the Chapel cupboard, and someone or the other would take it. 

But after a few years one or two  of the monks began to be relaxed. They started eating greedily, entertaining worldly thoughts, became proud and began to harbour grudges in their hearts. All at once the prayers in the chapel began to be much less effective. People stopped donating food, saying that the cost of groceries were too much. The Abbot called a meeting and soon understood the problem and urged the community to fall deeper in love with God. They resolved the issues, and the monks began to pray and live with love again, but with great fervour and joy. In no time the Chapel became a place of mighty prayer again.

The other drug dealers came to hear of this place and were both afraid and enraged. One of the gangs came to destroy the Monastery, but as soon as one of the violent thugs entered the cloistered Monastery, he became breathless with the beauty of the divine presence. He saw the monks before him looking at him kindly, but there was the presence of another Person which was so divine and beautiful that he realised how sinful he was and reformed himself. He became one of the monks, the fifth one. 

The other gangs were shocked and enraged at this, and on a planned date, they all together surrounded the building to destroy it.

The monks continued their prayers and duties, unworried. Hezario was writing a journal of the Monastery: "I am totally unafraid of the hundreds of men with weapons around us. This place has been consecrated as a Monastery of Mary and will remain so forever till the end of time. As I sit here writing, the latest and fifth monk is praying on his knees fervently for God to bless the men who surround us. None of us are even praying for ourselves, as we belong to Mary and She will take care of us. I am worried about one thing though. One gang is actually trying to get into the Monastery through the roof, and they are not aware that because of financial difficulties we were not able to build a stronger roof. The roof could fall down at any moment and they could fall 15 meters to the ground. But Father Ken is ready for them with bandages and medicinal herbs. Father Mark is making some good hot soup for them. Father Michael is pretending to be busy and trying not to show it, but I can see very easily that he is bursting with excitement at the possibility of being a martyr for Jesus. But there is one other thing I am terribly worried of. My dear friends who are trying to destroy us think we are unarmed and that we have no one to protect us. But as I have always sensed for the last twenty years of this Monastery's existence, the Blessed Virgin Mary has always been walking alongside us, invisible but powerful. They do not know that She is our Mother and that we are Her children and that She doesn't like her children being hurt. My only hope is that my Mother, the Virgin Mary, will appear to them as they approach this Monastery and thus they will fall in love with Her and with God and think more sensibly about life."

At this moment Hezario stopped writing, as the first man fell through the roof. He sighed, whispered a quick prayer, put away his writing material, and joined the other Fathers as they bandaged him, applied medicine to him, and gave him some very nice tasty vegetable soup.

"Evil will never prevail against the Church my friends. The Fortress in the middle of the wild forest will always be a Fortress," Father Hezario said to the other Fathers, who smiled back at him. They began to say the Rosary as they healed and fed their enemies, who were totally taken aback by the beauty of God's love that was flooding the atmosphere of the Monastery.

The Sound of Our Own Words

 Oh how pathetic we can be

When we fall in love our own voice,

Our own words, 

When we arrogantly fall in love with ourselves,

Deluding ourselves into

Thinking we are better than others.

It is then that we become blind 

And drown like Narcissus in our own selves.

May we wisely know that we are nought,

And in all humility love one another, 

Be kind, and listen to the other. 

It is not hard to be the best of them all.

But it is excruciatingly difficult 

To be the kindest, 

The most humble,

And the most loving.

That is not easy at all, 

But it is a challenge worth taking.






The idea of falling in love with our own voice was taken from a sermon I heard a few days back. I have also been fascinated at times by how when we (or I) imaginatively create a work of art or even make a culinary dish, we either disparage it and become negatively critical of it since we know exactly what's going on and how each component or ingredient came together to form the whole; or we fall in love with it, as in poems and literary works we write, and begin to admire the apparent perfection of the literary piece (perhaps because you can't really scientifically point out what is wrong with it). A more experienced artist would be able to point out what exactly is messed up in the poem or article, but for the time being, we fall ridiculously in love with our own creation - a love that could be construed, through theological lens, as an unstoppable and seemingly foolish love that perhaps reflects the relentless, ever-forgiving, and ever-redeeming love of God for His own erring and imperfect creation. God knows we are entirely imperfect, but He cannot and will not stop loving us, even if all the people in the world were to point out to Him precisely how imperfect and unworthy and useless we were. On a deeper note, God loves us faithfully and forever calls us to Him to a deeper friendship with Him, so that we may live well on earth and spend eternity in Heaven with God. 

The Cognitive Inability of the Human Mind to Objectively Perceive Big Data

    Humanities and the arts deal with an ambiguous and abstract reality (ideas and concepts and imaginative creations), whereas in at least the conventional understanding, science and mathematics and statistics deal with concrete, tangible data, numbers and so on. 

    But with the rise of big data, data has become - obviously - 'big'. 

    Statistics used to deal with the almost abstract concept of a population from a tangible reality of a sample. But now in data science even the samples can be enormous. The data scientist and statistician of today deal with data with programming languages - which is to say that they do not actually see the actual entire set of data, which would not be able to be perceived and processed by human cognition in a single glance. Thus single-glance-cognition or bird's-eye-view-processing would not suffice. You can look at a 5x5 table of persons suffering from a given disease and make some sense of it, or get a general idea from it, but not with big data. Thus data science as a science is dealing with a progressively abstract reality of big data. In this act of knowing and processing knowledge 'scientifically', the senses and the cognitive processes of the data scientist deal directly with the programming commands or prompts, but in an indirect way, it deals with a set of numbers, data, and information (almost infinite in nature from the persepective of the human mind), allowing AI tools and programming tools to act as a sort of extension in the cognitive act of the data scientist. 

    Long story short, the average Joe would comprehend and empathise with statements such as "There's a person in the park who's starving" or "I saw a person today with tuberculosis" than if given a huge spreadsheet detailing every single detail of every single starving person in the planet, or if he was asked to go through a list of all the people in a given country with tuberculosis. The human mind processes and the human heart empathises with imaginable sets of numbers more than thousands or millions or billions, which may seem huge to some and infinite to others. 

    The human mind cannot process infinite numbers as we are only human and do not have the absolute epistemological capabilities of God, who knows everything and everything at once. On the other hand, we know one component of knowledge first, and then another component of knowledge, which we may or may not predicate in relation to the previous knowledge (See 'Mystical City of God' by Blessed Mary of Agreda, a book about the Blessed Virgin Mary, Chapter 2 if I remember correctly). Our epistemological processes are subjective and imperfect.

    We can imagine and therefore understand a few numbers but not infinite numbers, which brings us to the significance of data storytelling, for in every number hides a story. Numbers have to be viewed as letters and words and sentences at times and not just mathematical quantities which are analysed and dissected and therefore adequately 'known'. Such is the cognitive inability to objectively perceive big data in an age of advanced and emerging technologies.

    This short article may or may not have been inspired by the book "Numbers and Nerves: Information, Emotion, and Meaning in a World of Data".