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Cake day: July 1st, 2023

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  • the accepted terminology

    No, it isn’t. The OSI specifically requires the training data be available or at very least that the source and fee for the data be given so that a user could get the same copy themselves. Because that’s the purpose of something being “open source”. Open source doesn’t just mean free to download and use.

    https://opensource.org/ai/open-source-ai-definition

    Data Information: Sufficiently detailed information about the data used to train the system so that a skilled person can build a substantially equivalent system. Data Information shall be made available under OSI-approved terms.

    In particular, this must include: (1) the complete description of all data used for training, including (if used) of unshareable data, disclosing the provenance of the data, its scope and characteristics, how the data was obtained and selected, the labeling procedures, and data processing and filtering methodologies; (2) a listing of all publicly available training data and where to obtain it; and (3) a listing of all training data obtainable from third parties and where to obtain it, including for fee.

    As per their paper, DeepSeek R1 required a very specific training data set because when they tried the same technique with less curated data, they got R"zero’ which basically ran fast and spat out a gibberish salad of English, Chinese and Python.

    People are calling DeepSeek open source purely because they called themselves open source, but they seem to just be another free to download, black-box model. The best comparison is to Meta’s LlaMa, which weirdly nobody has decided is going to up-end the tech industry.

    In reality “open source” is a terrible terminology for what is a very loose fit when basically trying to say that anyone could recreate or modify the model because they have the exact ‘recipe’.





  • The waiter approached.

    “Would you like to see the menu?” he said, “or would you like meet the Dish of the Day?”

    “Huh?” said Ford.

    “Huh?” said Arthur.

    “Huh?” said Trillian.

    “That’s cool,” said Zaphod, “we’ll meet the meat.”

    A large dairy animal approached Zaphod Beeblebrox’s table, a large fat meaty quadruped of the bovine type with large watery eyes, small horns and what might almost have been an ingratiating smile on its lips.

    “Good evening,” it lowed and sat back heavily on its haunches, “I am the main Dish of the Day. May I interest you in the parts of my body?”

    It harrumphed and gurgled a bit, wriggled its hind quarters in to a more comfortable position and gazed peacefully at them.

    Its gaze was met by looks of startled bewilderment from Arthur and Trillian, a resigned shrug from Ford Prefect and naked hunger from Zaphod Beeblebrox.

    “Something off the shoulder perhaps?” suggested the animal, “braised in a white wine sauce?”

    “Er, your shoulder?” said Arthur in a horrified whisper.

    “But naturally my shoulder, sir,” mooed the animal contentedly, “nobody else’s is mine to offer.”

    Zaphod leapt to his feet and started prodding and feeling the animal’s shoulder appreciatively.

    “Or the rump is very good,” murmured the animal. “I’ve been exercising it and eating plenty of grain, so there’s a lot of good meat there.”

    It gave a mellow grunt, gurgled again and started to chew the cud. It swallowed the cud again.

    “Or a casserole of me perhaps?” it added.

    “You mean this animal actually wants us to eat it?” whispered Trillian to Ford.

    “Me?” said Ford, with a glazed look in his eyes, “I don’t mean anything.”

    “That’s absolutely horrible,” exclaimed Arthur, “the most revolting thing I’ve ever heard.”

    “What’s the problem Earthman?” said Zaphod, now transferring his attention to the animal’s enormous rump.

    “I just don’t want to eat an animal that’s standing there inviting me to,” said Arthur, “It’s heartless.”

    “Better than eating an animal that doesn’t want to be eaten,” said Zaphod.

    “That’s not the point,” Arthur protested. Then he thought about it for a moment. “Alright,” he said, “maybe it is the point. I don’t care, I’m not going to think about it now. I’ll just… er […] I think I’ll just have a green salad,” he muttered.

    “May I urge you to consider my liver?” asked the animal, “it must be very rich and tender by now, I’ve been force-feeding myself for months.”

    “A green salad,” said Arthur emphatically.

    “A green salad?” said the animal, rolling his eyes disapprovingly at Arthur.

    “Are you going to tell me,” said Arthur, “that I shouldn’t have green salad?”

    “Well,” said the animal, “I know many vegetables that are very clear on that point. Which is why it was eventually decided to cut through the whole tangled problem and breed an animal that actually wanted to be eaten and was capable of saying so clearly and distinctly. And here I am.”

    It managed a very slight bow.

    “Glass of water please,” said Arthur.

    “Look,” said Zaphod, “we want to eat, we don’t want to make a meal of the issues. Four rare stakes please, and hurry. We haven’t eaten in five hundred and seventy-six thousand million years.”

    The animal staggered to its feet. It gave a mellow gurgle. “A very wise choice, sir, if I may say so. Very good,” it said, “I’ll just nip off and shoot myself.”

    He turned and gave a friendly wink to Arthur. “Don’t worry, sir,” he said, “I’ll be very humane.”