The Space Where Mistakes Don't Matter is Narrow

Does AI need to be correct?

I once read a novel with an AI. When I asked about parts of the text I couldn’t grasp, the explanations it gave included things not written in the book. When I pointed out that such things weren’t written, it readily backed down. After doing this a few times, I realized that this thing lies as naturally as it breathes.

But did that ruin my appreciation of the work? It didn’t. If that were the case, there should be other areas where mistakes don’t matter, so I looked for them.

In Appreciation, Mistakes Became Material

I return to the text as instructed and think, No, that’s not it. In that back-and-forth, I begin to see exactly where I was getting stuck.

What I am using is the back-and-forth itself, not the explanation. If it’s off, I reread the text to understand why it’s off. If it’s correct, I simply move on. In either case, my ways of reading increase.

It’s the same when talking about books with people. Even if someone says, “That scene means this,” I’ve never opened the book to verify if there is evidence in the text. Still, my ways of reading increase.

Here, mistakes became material.

When Asking for Facts, That Didn’t Happen

Thinking that the same thing must be happening elsewhere, I reviewed my daily records.

I’m asking what makes aurora sauce “aurora.” I’m asking how many times larger Bangladesh is than Japan, and the conversation progresses with thoughts like, Maybe about the size of Kyushu and Hokkaido combined? No, maybe about everything except Honshu.

I’m asking if calcium chloride and activated carbon dehumidifiers can be revived, and what activated carbon is in the first place.

In all these cases, there is one definitive answer. Etymologies have sources, land area has fixed values, and activated carbon has a definition. And I haven’t verified any of them.

It’s not that it didn’t matter. Because I haven’t verified them, I don’t yet know if it matters or not. If I was handed something incorrect, it remains incorrect in my head.

Here, mistakes simply remain.

In Situations Without a Correct Answer, the Question Was Different

I’m discussing a menu. I’m told there are two fillets of salmon in the freezer, and that maitake mushrooms have a strong scent that might overpower other flavors. I’m consulting on how to excuse myself from a plan with a friend because their partner is now coming along. At karaoke, I’m asking for male artists who are easy to sing because my natural voice is high.

At a glance, these seem like situations where correctness isn’t required. However, there is no “correct answer” to begin with. You cannot say it’s okay to be wrong about something that doesn’t exist.

Here, the word “mistake” cannot be used.

When I Counted, There Was Only One

The only situations where it’s okay to be mistaken are those where I don’t use the response as an answer. Appreciation is like that. The explanation isn’t the answer; it’s used as a trigger to return to the text. Therefore, even if it’s off, it fulfills its role.

In every other case, I receive the response as an answer. The moment I accept it, it enters my mind as “that’s how it is,” so a mistake remains a mistake. I correct it if I notice, but if I don’t, it doesn’t even leave a mark in my records.

It wasn’t that mistakes were permitted; it was simply that I wasn’t looking at them.