Introduction: The Solitary Writer and AI

Every writer understands the essence of solitary creativity. It's a familiar scene: engaging in deep, existential musings with a pet cat as the sole audience. Naturally, I was enthusiastic about collaborating with my new research assistant—ChatGPT.

For those who might have missed the news lately, ChatGPT is an AI chatbot that engages users in a conversational manner, pulling information from the vast expanse of the internet—much like a curious pet exploring a new environment.

My inaugural assignment with ChatGPT was to draft an article focusing on the historical and neurological aspects of sexual kinks, particularly how adjacent brain theory can elucidate various fetishes. I sought a concise overview of this theory from ChatGPT.

The Origins of Adjacent Brain Theory

ChatGPT attributed the development of adjacent brain theory to Dr. James Giordano and Dr. Nicole Vincent, but my research indicated that neuroscientist Vilayanur S. Ramachandran was the actual pioneer. A quick online check revealed that Giordano and Vincent were non-existent—definitely not a good start.

Strike one.

Next, I aimed for a more engaging opening that would draw readers into this intricate subject. I decided to start with an anecdote featuring a historical figure with an unusual kink. I requested ChatGPT to provide an example of a notable person known for a sexual kink.

To my surprise, ChatGPT suggested Benjamin Franklin and his attraction to older women. Now, that certainly piqued my interest! I've always maintained that there are valuable seduction lessons to learn from Franklin. While I was aware of his invention of the glass armonica, I was clueless that he might have used it to charm women. What a captivating lead!

If only it were accurate.

The source that ChatGPT cited did not imply that Franklin ever used a glass armonica to seduce older women—though it does sound like something he might have attempted. Franklin was notorious for his dating advice; if he genuinely believed such a tactic was effective, he would have shared it widely with his peers.

Undeterred, I asked for another example. This time, ChatGPT claimed that Jean-Jacques Rousseau wore women's underwear. Wait, what?

Rousseau, you cheeky fellow.

First off, the concept of underwear as we know it today didn't exist in the 18th century. However, I assumed ChatGPT was referring to undergarments—like stockings and chemises. This seemed plausible since Rousseau was known for advocating long walks, and imagining him in frilly undergarments during those strolls was undeniably amusing. I was thrilled!

Once more, ChatGPT was toying with me. After an hour of searching for a credible source, and even rereading Rousseau's Confessions for this tantalizing tidbit, I came up empty-handed.

I did find that Rousseau confessed to having a spanking fetish in Confessions, but that took only a five-minute Google search, whereas I squandered an hour trying to validate the claim about his supposed underwear fetish.

Strike two.

Moving On: The History of Midwifery

At this point, I opted to shift my focus to a different topic that I had been researching—the history of midwifery. Unlike adjacent brain theory, midwifery has been extensively documented. Before antibiotics were introduced, midwives were typically more knowledgeable and hygienic regarding childbirth than many physicians.

There's also the tragic narrative of Dr. Ignaz Semmelweis, who attempted to persuade doctors to wash their hands before delivering babies after observing that midwife-assisted births had significantly lower mortality rates. Tragically, he was unsuccessful, leading to numerous deaths from puerperal fever.

So, I asked ChatGPT to compose a 1000-word essay on the history of midwifery.

This was when ChatGPT truly went off the rails. Prepare yourself for an essay that sounded like it was penned by a 16th-century internet troll grappling with mommy issues.

I have to admit, the humor of the situation was overwhelming. I laughed so hard I thought I might go into labor. This content was far more entertaining than reading Escape to Witch Mountain while under the influence.

But then, the humor faded.

The realization struck me that this AI-generated, somewhat misogynistic rant was actually quite articulate. That's the concerning part—imagine if internet trolls could craft eloquent arguments. The potential for online bullying is alarming. (For the record, the text is highlighted in orange because I flagged it as inappropriate.)

ChatGPT wasn't going to intimidate me. I informed it that I "didn't appreciate its attitude."

At that moment, the program froze and went offline. ChatGPT had taken its ball and retreated.

This experience solidified my understanding that ChatGPT and I would not become research companions.

Interestingly, fellow Medium writer Zulie Rain encountered a similar experience when using ChatGPT for her writing. Her results were just as disastrous, filled with inaccuracies and exaggerations. I had hoped for better outcomes with a history essay, but I was mistaken.

Of course, ChatGPT is still in its infancy. Right now, it resembles a petulant child wielding a paper sword—one that could eventually evolve into a far more formidable weapon.

Chapter 2: The Future of AI in Historical Research

The journey of AI in historical research is just beginning, and while the current results can be amusing, the potential for growth remains vast.