XPost: alt.business, ba.politics, sac.politics
XPost: alt.politics.democrats, alt.politics.homosexuality
It’s a cool Thursday morning in downtown San Francisco, and I’m walking
up Powell Street through a once-familiar-looking Union Square.
As I stroll past the bones of retail giants, “For Lease” signs mark abandoned storefronts like lurid headstones. I see the empty Uniqlo, H&M
and Forever21, along with a vacant Walgreens and the former Diesel
outpost, which looms over Market Street like a pillaged kingdom.
Overall, the neighborhood feels less like an economic epicenter and more
like a consumerist graveyard.
But among these depressing corporate relics is an unusual and perhaps
welcome sight: groups of stylish young people with mullets,
micro-tattoos and designer clothes hobnobbing inside a new, sleek retail
space on Geary Street. From a distance, it’s unclear what, exactly, it’s supposed to be, or what types of products it intends to sell.
Inside, EDM blasts from a coffee cart while baristas pour oat milk
lattes and flat whites. In front of them is a wooden, cage-like
structure lined with mysterious-looking white spheres. But this isn’t a modern art gallery opening or a new Mac store: hordes of tech
enthusiasts and local news crews are here to celebrate the unveiling of
Sam Altman’s new — and dystopian — “proof of human” technology, also known as the Orb.
According to his San Francisco and Munich-headquartered company, Tools
for Humanity, this cutting-edge verification system is designed to prove
to computers that you’re a real, flesh-and-blood individual by scanning
your iris. In our “adversarial” age of artificial intelligence, such
tools are becoming increasingly necessary, his other venture World
Network argues, and according to its vague April 30 news release, it’s ultimately designed “to empower individuals and organizations worldwide
with the necessary tools to participate in the digital economy and
advance human progress.” But this bold statement should be taken with a
pinch of salt, especially since Altman’s AI product, ChatGPT, is
guzzling precious resources, worsening humanity’s ongoing climate crisis.
After briefly speaking with an employee, I also realized that the Orb’s technology — which is dressed up in revolutionary language — is
basically just a yassified form of Captcha. While nothing tops Silicon Valley’s legendary Juicero, I’d be lying if I said it didn’t come to mind.
As I continue to wander around, a man in a red shirt holds a spare Orb
and idly strokes it. Next to him, a woman wearing sunglasses indoors
grins and takes a selfie. Though it’s open to the public, it seems that
the vast majority of attendees either work for the company or are here
to cover it. Regardless, it does seem that there’s at least some
interest: A uniformed employee in charge of protecting the Orb tells me
that about 30 eye-scanning appointments have already been booked out of
200.
Dizzy from the caffeine and thumping electronic music, I stand outside
to get fresh air and watch normal, everyday shoppers walk past.
It almost seems like a cruel joke that this flagship location, which
literally compares itself to an Apple store, sits directly next to the decades-old Macy’s that humbly advertises old vanguards like Wetzel’s Pretzels, the Cheesecake Factory and Jamba Juice. Weary, disinterested
shoppers in sweatpants slowly emerge from the department retailer,
shuffling past tech enthusiasts in Celine jackets and avant-garde
designer outfits. An older woman in a surgical mask gestures to the
sleek outpost with a confused expression, makes a remark to her friend
and continues on her way. As I exited and walked down Stockton Street
toward BART, a fleet of driverless Waymos drifted past me, vanishing
into traffic.
When I left, I couldn’t help but wonder: As major retailers leave gaping holes in San Francisco’s commercial epicenter, is this what’s going to
fill the void? And, ultimately, do we really need or want this? Based on
the general public’s response — and the types of powerful people behind these business ventures — I wasn’t optimistic.
After all, by now, it’s no secret that the COVID-19 pandemic, along with evolving consumer patterns, have cudgeled Union Square in recent years,
and it’s still unclear if it will ever truly recover.
In response, San Francisco funded the Vacant to Vibrant program, which
aims to “revitalize” the area by helping artists, cultural organizations and small-business owners host pop-ups in vacant storefronts. But while downtown sectors like Union Square languish, nearby corridors like Hayes
Valley are thriving in comparison — Time Out magazine even heralded its success as a symbol of resurgence.
As the Hayes Valley Merchants Association president previously told me,
it’s clear why: Compared with downtown, Hayes Valley feels like a real community, which is how it survived the brutal aftermath of COVID-19
against all odds. It’s the groups of friends sitting outside drinking
coffee, the green spaces, the vibrant, modern boutiques that ultimately
kept the neighborhood’s spirit alive.
The humans brought it back to life — and no amount of technology could possibly do the same.
https://www.sfgate.com/local/article/downtown-san-francisco-retail-dying-sam-altman-20307342.php
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