September 6, 2025 The other day, I asked Claude how to do something using a particular Ruby library, and it hallucinated three nonexistent methods in a row. We can ask “why do language models do this?” but/and we can also ask, “why doesn’t Robin do this?” I think it’s because I don’t only know things: I remember learning them. My knowledge is sedimentary, and I can “feel” the position and solidity of different facts and ideas in that mass. I can feel, too, the airy disconnect of a guess. If you’d challenged me to simply guess the methods I was looking for, I would have typed exactly what Claude hallucinated. Same goes for most Ruby programmers. So, why didn’t I guess, and then find myself sincerely surprised (as Claude surely was) when the methods didn’t exist? Well, searching my memory, I found no record of ever learning them in the first place. Not that I can connect every Ruby method I know to the precise time and place of its memorization — but there is some tag, some tether, some … something. It’s a wild sort of proprioception. I’ll remind you that biologists do not, in the year 2025, know memory’s physical substrate in the brain! Plenty of hypotheses — no agreement. Is there any more central mystery in human biology, maybe even human existence? Language models don’t have memory at all, because they don’t have experiences that compound and inform each other. Don’t the model weights encode a vast storehouse of memory? No — those are closer to DNA, an inheritance. The model weights are awesome the way an embryo’s development is awesome, rather than the way Steph Curry’s three-pointers are awesome. Many engineers have pinned their hopes on the context window as a kind of memory, a place where “experiences” might accrue, leave useful traces. There’s certainly some utility there … but the analogy is waking up in a hotel room and finding a scratchpad full of notes that you don’t remember making. (Language models might, aft...
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Last seen: 2025-09-10 16:09