The bullshit detector

You don’t know how to use ChatGPT?” Ekya asked incredulously, her eyes wide as saucers. “Nana, everyone uses AI. I even got Waldo to help with some of my class assignments.”

- K.C. VERMA

I must have muttered something daft, because my granddaughter launched into a sermon that would have made any preacher blush. “Stop fretting about costs, nana! These Al engines cost billions to cook up; but the apps? They are absolutely free!”

Before I could protest, Ekya commandeered my ancient laptop and performed some digital wizardry. In minutes, my screen was cluttered with icons—Claude, Bert, Yolo, Gemini, Waldo and... Grok? The names sounded like the guestlist for a dorm party, with Grok hailing from some remote galaxy.

I jabbed at the Grok icon, half-expecting a puff of smoke. Instead, a rapid-fire text appeared on the screen. “What do you want to know?”

Oh, Grok, you poor, naive genie! My mind is a convoluted labyrinth of unanswered questions: “Does God play teen-patti at Diwali?” “When will politicians stop fooling the public?” “Did that little girl whom I met in wonderland love me?” “Will the air quality in Delhi ever improve?”

But no; I played it safe. “Grok, what's two plus two?”

“O, Master, it’s four!” the genie replied, instantly.

“Brilliant,” I deadpanned to Ekya. “That's exactly what my ₹50 Palika Bazaar calculator says. Tell me, is this AI thingamajig just a fancy abacus?”

“Nana!” Ekya wailed, “Ask something smart! Something that needs logic and analysis. Something that is really, really rocket science!”