Topic: Artificial Intelligence

Your Doctor Is (Probably) Using AI

Love the Machine (Learning)

Since 2022, hundreds of billions of dollars have been spent on making sure the public associates AI with LLMs and not with the real workhorse—Machine Learning. It’s the kind of intelligence that’s been reading radiology scans and flagging irregular heartbeats for well over a decade. It’s narrow, task-specific, lacks the ability to hallucinate, and is reasonably well-validated.

The problem is generative AI: large language models that predict the next plausible word in a sequence and call it knowledge. The same tools that have convinced teenagers to kill themselves, can’t consistently count the number of Rs in “Strawberry”, and are designed for sycophancy and maximum engagement, are now being handed the keys to clinical documentation, patient triage, diagnostic assistance, and drug discovery.

Eighty-one percent of physicians now use AI professionally, according to the American Medical Association’s 2026 survey — more than double the rate from 2023. Meanwhile, consumer trust in AI for healthcare has plummeted, from 52% to 44% over the same window. Generative AI’s obvious failings threaten the reputation of even the most basic of “dumb” machine learning tasks, because how is the public meant to discern between generative AI and ML when their doctor tells them they used “AI” to assist with a diagnosis? Hell, even the doctor might not be able to tell the difference. They get pitched on dozens of tools at any given time, and most don’t understand their inner workings. After all, why should they? They’re a doctor, Jim, not a software engineer.


Excuse Me, Your Privates Are Showing

HIPAA was written in 1996. It covers providers, insurers, and clearinghouses. It does not cover your Oura ring, your Fitbit, your ChatGPT conversation about that weird mole, or the genetic data 23andMe auctioned off when it went bankrupt. A booming market of data brokers now pays hospitals for “de-identified” patient records to train AI models — a market valued at nearly $9 billion — and researchers have already shown that LLMs can re-identify those supposedly anonymous records. One NYU study pulled a specific pregnant patient’s identity from a clinical note that mentioned nothing more identifying than horseback riding.

Google, meanwhile, is assembling the most comprehensive health-data pipeline on Earth, though you probably already assumed that. Android owns roughly 70% of the global smartphone market, and Google also owns Fitbit. They made a promise in 2019 to keep health data out of advertising, which sounds reassuring until you read the actual privacy policy, which permits using data to “improve services” — a phrase capacious enough to drive Sam Altman’s ego through.


Large Language Modus Operandi

The opt-in model (those papers you glanced over at your last doctor’s appointment before signing anyways) is already eroding. AI scribes record your doctor’s visit and generate notes — and while you can technically decline, good luck navigating that conversation mid-appointment when your ass is finally seated after a three hour wait. One patient in Australia had a $1,300 appointment cancelled for refusing. You see where this is going: today’s opt-in becomes tomorrow’s default, becomes next year’s invisible infrastructure, just like browser cookies, just like location tracking, just like every other privacy trade-off we’ve clucked our tongues at while striding full bore into.

With all of that out of the way, this tunnel may be shorter than it seems. World models, an alternative architecture (or the next evolution after LLMs) learn how systems evolve over time rather than predicting the next word. They don’t hallucinate in the same way because they aren’t generating text — they’re modeling states.

Early research is applying them to tumor progression, disease forecasting, and surgical robotics. They’re immature, unstable, and at least a year or more away from any real product. But they represent the only credible path toward AI that a clinician could somewhat-reliably trust with a diagnosis. Where chatGPT takes a stab at statistical correlation, a world model is purpose-built for prediction, rather than prediction as (and I’m being slightly reductive here) an afterthought.


Half-Baked

The health industry is adopting AI faster than its trust infrastructure, its privacy law, and its cybersecurity posture can support. That’s straightforwardly a governance problem, and governance moves at the speed of committee hearings and election cycles while technology moves at the speed of venture capital.

So what does the health market look like when the keys get handed to generative AI? Probably a lot like the internet looked when we handed the keys to ad tech: useful, ubiquitous, and corrosive to the things we said we cared about most. The difference is that this time the thing being corroded isn’t your attention, it’s your medical records, your literal genetic code, and your trust in the person across the exam table telling you those cells probably aren’t cancerous.

As always, zack.wall@icloud.com for feedback and suggestions.

People Can't Stop Using AI Images for Deception

Vomit On My Sweater Already, Will’s Spaghetti

Remember that cursed video of Will Smith eating spaghetti? I’m going to hold your hand when I tell you that it’s been more than 3 years since it was generated. Time flies when you’re waiting for our AI overlords to come online! The video was funny because it was terrible—surreal hands, noodles fusing with skin, a face melting into marinara. Nobody was fooled, and that was the entire point. AI video was a party trick—something you showed your friends so you could all laugh at the absurdity.

That innocent era is over.

In less than three years, AI-generated imagery has completed a full transformation in purpose. It is no longer a creative tool, it is overwhelmingly a deception tool. The product has shifted from “look at this obviously AI-generated art” to “look at this real thing that happened.” The people making that shift have clear agendas: engagement farming, political manipulation, romance scams, and outright commercial fraud.


Oops, No Guardrails!

When OpenAI launched Sora 2 back in September 2025, it became the most downloaded free app in the App Store within a week. Every output carried a visible watermark and invisible C2PA metadata. Both protections collapsed almost immediately. Watermark-removal tutorials flooded YouTube and TikTok within days. The Pro API tier shipped outputs with no watermark at all (almost like they knew why people were paying for the Pro tier). By March 2026, OpenAI shut the entire Sora app down, citing a number of reasons (the most likely was costs and a lack of financial return). The tool’s primary legacy wasn’t creative expression. It was industrialized lying.

NBC News documented Etsy storefronts selling crochet patterns marketed with AI-generated images of plushies that real yarn physically cannot produce. Even recipes haven’t been spared, with CNN reporters being duped into baking a recipe from Pinterest that turned out to be entirely AI-generated and didn’t work. Pinterest’s CEO conceded on an earnings call that no platform can catch 100% of AI-generated content. The marketplace has become a minefield where the product photos are fiction and the patterns are impossible.

On a more dangerous topic, Sumsub’s 2025-2026 Identity Fraud Report found that deepfake fraud now accounts for 11% of all global fraud, with dating apps tied as the single most-targeted sector. A French interior designer handed over €830,000 to scammers running an AI-generated Brad Pitt impersonation. The FBI’s 2025 IC3 report logged roughly $20.9 billion in total losses, with romance fraud among the costliest categories and over 22,000 AI-related complaints. These aren’t edge cases. This is one of the primary commercial applications of the technology.


Creatively Bankrupt

There is a reason these tools are being used for deception rather than creation: the creative industries have made it socially radioactive to admit you used AI. SAG-AFTRA struck for eleven months over AI in video games. Studios have had titles canceled over AI asset backlash. Wizards of the Coast was caught using AI art for Magic: The Gathering despite publicly pledging not to. The message from Hollywood laborers, gaming, and the art world is clear—use AI openly at your own risk.

That stigma is obviously earned. AI art should remain a personal tool—something you use for fun to share with friends and family. It has no place in commercial creative work where a thing with no soul, no experiences, no taste, no worldview, no self-awareness is displacing real human artists. The unfortunate consequence of this is that the path of least resistance becomes deception. Passing AI output off as a real photo, a real person or a real product carries no professional penalty if it’s never caught.


Every Man For Themselves

The regulatory response is basically a finger wag and a stern look. The EU AI Act’s watermarking mandate doesn’t take full effect until August 2026. The United States has no comprehensive federal labeling law. Platforms rely on an honor system where uploaders self-disclose AI content—a system that scammers defeat by stripping metadata and cropping watermarks. TikTok can host every AI-generated video in existence without ever being required to prove whether it’s real. C2PA metadata, the industry’s best technical solution, is destroyed every time an image is laundered through WhatsApp, iMessage, or Facebook’s upload pipeline.

The technology will only get better. The regulations will continue to not exist. And every day, the gap between what AI can fabricate and what platforms can detect grows wider. We moved from Will Smith eating spaghetti to industrialized fraud in under three years. The next three will be even worse.

As always, zack.wall@icloud.com for feedback and suggestions.