Ever since I was a young boy, words fascinated me — and so did physics. I loved the way
words spill down a page, but also the patterns you can see in them that have nothing to do
with the meaning. And I loved physics — the idea that underneath what a
thing appears to be, there's a measurable structure you can get at with the right
instrument. For most of my life those were two separate loves. PasadoDocs is what happened
when they finally fused: when I stopped reading text only for its meaning and started
treating it as a thing with shape and signal you can measure.
Theorizing that the way your words line up on a page when you write is not accidental led
me to the notion that, perhaps, the way those words lay themselves out represents some sort of background signal —
a subconscious shape that, maybe, we could detect and measure.
Thusly began this project, PasadoDocs — and thusly began several of the most disappointing
weeks of my life, as experiment after experiment after experiment failed to show anything
at all. It was random — until it wasn't. Finally, we had a signal, but it was faint.
That is when the journey began. I sort of gave up on that first idea — but, being stubborn
and hard-headed, I dived into existing work in lexicology, as well as deriving some tests of
my own (the specifics of which I'll keep close for now) and some other stuff. I even reached
deep down inside, back to my days as a lab assistant with a physics group. I started to
treat the text as something I could measure and ran it through various modeling techniques.
Some worked better than
others, and the experiments are ongoing. The ones that worked the best ended up in the
stack.
All numbers are based on preliminary science. My strong expectation is that a machine told
to imitate a specific human writer only gives itself away. It fails
harder — the harder it tried to get everything right, the worse the prose got.
It's like an untrained child trying to forge a Van Gogh. Sure, give them all the tools —
it's still a child who can't paint.
The intended pattern of use is whatever you want it to be. Writers can use it and export
documents to whatever format they like. Or you can share the document and, in settings,
turn off the write protection and transcripts — your transcript will still collect, but it
will be stored in the .scribble instead. Or you can be 100% transparent, and prove that
your words are 100% yours.
At the end of the day, this is an experiment: can I use physics to build a thumbprint of
how writers write, differently from how machines write? Join the experiment, become part of
the community, and we can learn together. No accusations. No adverse inferences. Just you,
at your keyboard, writing on a surface that protects you from yourself — that shows you
where something you pasted might not be yours, tracks it for you, and helps you be a better
writer, non-adversarially.