December 24 - Merry Christmas
I want to thank everyone for bearing with me in my AI advent calendar project this year. I know it probably isn’t to everyone’s taste. But it was a fun project, and it helped me get better acquainted with AI, which will becoming an increasingly inevitable force to be reckoned with in 2024, for all of us , for better or worse. I am going to spend a few days over Christmas in Denmark with my wife, who is from Canada, and my extended family. I asked ChatGPT 4 to come up with a picture capturing that mood.
Have a break Christmas break and a Happy New Year!
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December 23 - Chat GPT 4 in action, on Eurozone inflation
This year’s advent calendar project was primarily done on ChatGPT 3.5 and DALL E2. I only recently acquired access to GPT 4.0, which is infinitely more powerful, especially in its ability to respond to real-time events—it is trained on current data—to create more detailed and realistic pictures and, as I will show here, to analyse data. So, I thought that I would pivot on this entry and show an example of some empirical and statistical economic analysis I’ve done with GPT 4.0.
The first step was to create my own GPT optimised for time series analysis done on data uploaded in excel or CSV format. This didn’t take long, though it is not clear to me that my little GPT is any better than the generic "Data analysis” GPT, but over time, it should become better at the task that I am interested in, in theory.
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December 22 - The Siege of Sancerre
The Sancerrois had defended their town valiantly. Artillery and bombs had been pounding the walls of the city early in the occupation, but to little effect. The enemy had suffered more so than the villagers during these attacks, despite the menacing presence of canons, explosives, slings and other war machinery. But the success of repelling enemy advances would soon give way to despair and destitution. The siege became a slow poison, seeping into the very bones of the town.
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December 21 - Echoes of Obsidian
Detective Isabella Ramirez leaned against the balustrade of her Santiago apartment, the city below twinkling like a sea of stars against the canvas of the Andean night. The rhythmic beat of salsa music drifted from distant clubs, a reminder of Santiago's vibrant pulse. Yet, tonight, a different melody lingered in the air too—something ominous and cold, carried down from the very peaks of the mountains.
Isabella's phone buzzed, cutting through the night's tranquility. The voice on the other end belonged to Captain Mateo Ruiz, a grizzled veteran who had seen Santiago's underbelly in all its shades.
"We caught one." He said.
"It's a big one."
"Anyone I know?" Isabella replied.
"I think so. It's Fuentes…Alejandro Fuentes."
"The art dealer?!" Isabella said.
"Mmm" Ruiz mumbled.
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