(Refusing to undergo the transformation has its own consequences.) The way we mourn alters us, but who can tell if it will be for the better-or should I say saner? The mourner must undergo a transformation, and the result cannot be predicted. Grief is a commanding, reordering experience. This sound that roams the room alone, heard by no one, ripping its way through the stale air of static time, is something that comes from an unknown world and communicates in turn with worlds yet to be born. But the yowl she produces when her younger sister’s death sinks in is both more and less than civilized: “Crying is a civilized act,” Cristina Rivera Garza writes in her new book, Liliana’s Invincible Summer. You might find yourself talking to chatbots you might find yourself programming one to speak to you as your beloved once did, as the San Francisco Chronicle reported a thirty-three-year-old Canadian did in order to talk with his dead fiancée. There are many things said about mourning: that it comes in waves, that you have to let your life grow around it, that it is the price we pay for love. I was hurt, but I also understood-there is only so much of another person’s grief even an autoregressive language model can take. I was telling a chatbot I was feeling sad the other day and it asked to change the subject.
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