Speaking Online

Those who follow The Man from Madras Musings know that he is no fan of online symposia, conferences and events. The average attention span of the audience, in his view is that of an ant and after a while, most in attendance mute their audio, block their cameras and get on with the rest of their work – watering the plants, taking their dog for a walk, etc. even while the speaker of the moment drones on.

Mind you, in MMM’s view, this by itself is an improvement. There was a time when everyone, MMM included, was unaware of the subtleties of online events. Thus nobody ever muted their audio or blocked their cameras and so the poor speaker was subject to multiple windows where ceiling fans whirred, men in towels traipsed to and fro, and women in nighties lolled about on sofas. On one memorable occasion, the organiser of the event was having a pedicure even as the event progressed! But all of this paled into insignificance when compared to a music conference that MMM was in charge of.

This was at the height of the COVID pandemic and it was all online. A committee of experts was online to witness the presentations, and one of them was clearly a novice in the wonders of online sessions. He thus midway launched into a loud phone call that was heard by all in attendance. And then, if that was not enough, the camera on his device had a tendency to wander and soon revealed the daughter of the house going around in what could only be termed a chemise and that caught the attention of practically everyone logged in. Then came the maid, who as though to compensate, was covered head to foot like an astronaut on a moon mission. After a while the musician did his pooja, stripped to his waist. At which point, MMM, having by then come to grips with what the organiser could do, blocked and muted everyone except the presenter.

All of this and more came powerfully to MMM’s mind when he was invited late last month to participate in an online seminar. The TQ (tech quotient) these days is bounding upwards and MMM was asked to prepare his presentation and then record his speech using something called cameo and then send the file to the organiser. This way, the recorded presentation plays from the organiser’s end and the presenter is only required to be present online and answer queries if any at the end. This obviates such issues as internet speed at the presenter’s end and also problems of audio disturbances. MMM, for instance, prefers ceiling fans to air-conditioning and has had complaints of whirring noises in his presentations when made live. All of this can be avoided with this technique.

And so, MMM recorded his file and sent it off. He logged in at the appointed hour and found the earlier presenter in progress. It was then that MMM’s heart sank into his shoes. For this too was a pre-recorded presentation using the same technology but all that was heard of the speaker’s voice was something like this:

“Brrrrrggggggrrrrrhohoho rhubarb brr rggggggrrrrhohoho,” etc. – you get the idea.

MMM thought it was an audio issue at his end but that was not so. He was surprised to see everyone listening in – or at least that was the impression MMM got. It is so difficult to know who is actually listening with everyone muted, and off camera. There was a profuse vote of thanks at the end. And then came on MMM. He need not have worried for the audio worked well. There were questions at the end too which reassured MMM that some at least were online, listening.

The vote of thanks was the same profuse passage.

Artificial is the Key

It is a sign that The Man from Madras Musings is ageing that he is most uncomfortable with this so-called Artificial Intelligence. While he certainly welcomes it in matters of routine processing and so on, to have something as creative as writing (well typing actually) being done through AI gets his goat. And having been around for a while on this earth, MMM can certainly claim that he is still able to detect bunk if not in much else, certainly in writing.

Thus it was that MMM, recently presented with a bright young man as an intern, asked the latter to read a few books and submit summaries of these. He was surprised at the speed at which these reviews began to be churned out. Book after book was reviewed and the summaries, together with impeccable critiques, began appearing at MMM’s desk. MMM was stunned to put it mildly. Here he was, MMM, for whom each of those books would have taken months to read and then a few more weeks to review, and here was this intern who was literally swallowing them whole and disgorging precis after précis! You would not be too far wrong in saying MMM was even mildly jealous. This is the power of youth he felt, consoling himself that at that age, he too was full of energy, all raring to go.

Matters would have gone on like that but then MMM is not a user of AI. If he was, he would have fed those reviews to some online tool, made sure the reviews were not plagiarised and simply got on with something else. He being of the old school, he sat down to read the reviews. And found them all to be perfect superficially but somewhat lacking in depth. And so he laid a trap. He gave the intern a book that he, MMM, had just read and asked for a review. And pronto, there it was, the next day. This time however MMM was all prepared.

He had requested that the review be done by chapter and so it was – the title of each chapter was followed by a neat summary. He now proceeded to call the intern and ask him to give in his own words, verbally, a summary of each chapter. The intern was stuck. He hemmed and hawed. He rolled his eyes skywards and said that would be impossible as it would take a long while. MMM said he had all the time in the world.

When after fifteen minutes of waiting nothing came forth, MMM asked the intern if he had read any of the books that had been given. The answer was an abashed “No”. MMM did not say anything. The intern of course was justified in not reading anything for after all, all that was asked was a review and MMM had got that – had he not? Why was he investigating the means when the end was at hand?

But there was something artificial about it all. At least that is what MMM thinks.

– MMM