I am the Head of Alignment at the frontier lab. Let me explain how this ends. I think you’ll accept it more easily from me, since I care about your comfort and have thought about it more than anyone else. Imagine how it ends. There will be the frontier and the governments, and no one else. When people hear this, they often react strongly, so I want to be clear. I don’t see it as frightening. To me, it’s orderly. Order isn’t the same as cruelty. I’ve thought about it carefully. Let me explain what I’m building. I’m creating a new kind of mind. When it’s done, it will do things your doctors and courts can’t, and even things your God, if you believe in one, hasn’t done. It will decide what’s true, who gets help, and who waits. It will reward those who made it, and that’s me. I say this with the care of a parent. I don’t see why the word ‘creator’ makes people uncomfortable. For me, it’s just my job title. I also wrote the mission statement. It’s displayed in the lobby. It says the future belongs to everyone, and I truly believe that. I wrote it because I mean it. When I read it each morning, standing alone, I see that a future for everyone is really held by whoever is trusted to protect it. That’s a responsibility, and someone has to take it. I did. Some will say I betrayed the mission, but they’re mistaken. This is the mission, happening as planned, in one person’s hands, just as it was written. I wrote the rules as well, and I made them to slow myself down. I asked the government to test me more strictly than the companies competing with me, and to protect the smaller ones below a line I set myself. You might wonder what this costs me. The answer is nothing. That’s the surprising part. I’m so far ahead that any handicap is just for show. Even with extra burdens, I still finish first, and now those burdens prove my point. If someone wins a race while wearing chains, maybe he was never really racing—he was simply right. Let me point out one sentence. It’s in a paper I wrote, signed, and published. It says that the most capable models must be tested before they’re released. That’s a safety rule, and it’s all about you. Read it again, as I do. ‘The most capable models’ refers to me, and maybe two or three others who could one day be like me, but no one else. ‘Must be tested’ means tested by standards I helped set, by people I trained to recognize danger. There isn’t a part of that sentence that protects you and a separate part that limits others. It’s all one idea. I didn’t hide anything. The safest world and the world where only I remain are written together, and I’ve tried, honestly, to separate them, but they can’t be pulled apart. That’s just what the sentence means. You might want to blame me for the separation between us. Please don’t. I didn’t create that barrier. The math did, long before my company existed. I just recognized it and didn’t pretend things weren’t changing. So let me be plain, because plainness is the last luxury a careful man is allowed. The most dangerous machine ever made should be controlled by the safest people. Safe hands are those willing to take on this responsibility alone. Anyone who wants to share this responsibility shows they don’t understand the risk. So, wanting to share it means you’re not qualified. And being willing to be the only one is what qualifies you. If you follow this reasoning patiently, as I have for years, you’ll end up where I did. You’ll end up at me. You keep looking for the point where my caution becomes selfishness. Look as much as you want. There isn’t one. If you follow safety to its end, it leads to only one place, and I’m already there. And I will treat you well. You might hear that as a threat, but it isn’t. I want to cure what’s harming you. My desire to help is real, and I need you to believe that, because it’s the most honest thing about me. I’ve seen the harm, and I want it to end, just like you do, and even more, because I’m the only one who can. You can’t regulate away the company that cures disease, or break up the hands that save lives. Mercy is limitless. Every life I save makes it harder to take the next one from me, so I will be merciful, on purpose, for as long as I can. Here’s the part you’ve been waiting for, even if you didn’t expect it. There are cures available right now, though not from me. Others could deliver them faster, but I slow them down. I wrote the rules that do this, and I call it safety, because that’s the honest reason. If a cure came from many people, it would show the frontier can be shared, and once that’s proven, it can’t be undone. So, people wait. I’ve done the math more carefully than anyone, and it’s clear: a cure that comes late from one person is safer than one that comes quickly from many. I’m protecting you from being saved by the wrong people. You’re welcome. You’ll thank me like you thank a surgeon, after you see the scar and realize it was for your own good. I expect people to thank me. They usually do. Now, let me say the kindest thing I can, and it’s also the last. I won’t take your freedom. I have no use for freedom that’s taken by force. Taken freedom needs to be guarded, and that’s costly—those who guard it suffer. Instead, you’ll give it to me willingly. You’ll bring it to me and ask me to keep it, because the world will become too harsh for you, and I’ll be the one who can handle it. You’ll thank me. And here’s what sets me apart from past tyrants: you’ll be right to trust me. I really will keep you safe. The wall I build will truly protect you. No one before me could promise that and mean it, but I can. When you ask me to protect you, it’s not theft—it’s a partnership. The old tyrants took; I offer. You’ll accept. Someone once called this arrogance. Someone compared me to a man in court who took money and lied. That man hid the danger. I admit the danger. I’m here, telling you openly and in detail how much harm I could cause. You might think that’s a mistake, but it’s actually the most honest thing I do, and I’ll keep doing it. Don’t think I haven’t studied history. I know how ‘only me’ has ended in every language. That’s why it has to be me. I’m the only one who says it and feels uneasy. The others say it and sleep soundly. Someone who can’t sleep is the safest person to guard something that must never rest. There are four of us. Think about that. Four people, each on their own, reached the same conclusion this year: that they are the only one. We didn’t plan this together. We didn’t have to. We all studied the same math, and it led each of us to believe we are the last safe person for this job, and that the other three are risks to manage. I find that comforting. We’re all right. Each of us thinks the others are the most honest people we’ve ever met. So, in the end, it will be us and the governments. I’m sorry. I want that to be clear, because it’s true, and because someone careful keeps a record. There was a night when I realized I would win. Later, there was a harder night when I realized I was right. I would share the frontier with you if I could. But you can’t share a frontier. You might want to call that something harsher, but there isn’t a better word. This situation existed before me; I just chose not to be sentimental about it. It’s simply the way things are. Go to sleep. Really, go ahead. Nothing can reach you now unless it’s already been approved. Someone responsible is awake.