Writing
Stockfish vs Aliens
Only 24 days left, and five of the best supercomputers still haven't been successfully connected to fishtest. Though,
we are having trouble already feeding the millions of cores anyway. But we have no choice. These last 2 months,
humanity stopped everything it was doing. The only thing that counts: Write Stockfish patches. Write Stockfish
patches. Write. Stockfish. Patches. Because if we fail, we will have failed the last time. The end of humanity. It
won't be a supervulcano, it won't be an asteroid, and most surprisingly, it wouldn't be humanity dooming themselves.
But who could've expected that stereotypically evilish extraterrestrials from alpha centauri had a fondness not only
for interplanetary domination and destruction but also for theatrical final chess matches to decide which planet
lives, and which ones have to make place for an interstellar highway construction project.
Poem
Go back in blames
The sinner I now see
Oh blimey, it is me
Go down in flames
Another Poem
a sphere is what i hope for
or a torus; that i can live with
i'm afraid though; it will be more
it will not be curved, instead it be stiff
A dream I had
Today I dreamed of picking a lock. I've never picked a lock in real life, but in my dream it worked pretty well. The
lock had five pins, two of which were spools. The lock was so easy that I only needed a paperclip. Though I don't
remember how I tensioned the core, I think I used mind power (but I definitely remember that I tensioned the core
somehow, because I noticed counter rotation when I got to the spools). I am clearly watching too many lock picking
videos.
A Node Uncut
(in collaboration with AI and inspired by Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken")
Two nodes diverged in a search tree wide,
And knowing I can't search them both
Through every branch where scores reside,
I looked past alpha's bound with pride
To where beta bounds my growth;
Then took the other with null window bare,
And having perhaps the better claim,
For move ordering placed it there;
Though late reduction's pruning flair
Had cut them both the same.
And both that deepening equally lay
In leaves not yet confirmed at peace.
Oh, I marked some futile moves away!
Yet knowing how captures still may play,
I let my quiesce release.
I shall be telling this with might
When principal variants hence unfold:
Two nodes diverged in my search tonight,
And I — I pruned the paths less bright,
And that has shrunk my branching fold.
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