Q. [(Carter, Nielsen 2017) Using Artificial Intelligence to Augment Human Intelligence] What virtuous feedback cycle do the authors propose?
A. AI systems yield more powerful cognitive technologies, which, when internalized, yield more powerful thinking, producing better AI systems

The prompt directly targets the core insight anchored by the user's highlight: the mutually reinforcing loop between AI development and human cognition. It is atomic (tests one coherent causal chain—AI systems yield cognitive technologies, which internalize into more powerful thinking, which produces better AI), faithful to both the highlighted phrase and the surrounding argument described in the interpretation, and phrased concretely enough (with source attribution) to remain unambiguous and retrievable in isolation months or years later.


Summary: This is a brief archive entry describing a Dynamicland tool design where pages wrap around wooden squares. These physical tools are frequently used at Dynamicland, have a pleasant tactile quality, and are stored on shelves. The entry notes that these will eventually be replaced by playing cards with "Tiny dotframes" but currently serve various purposes including use in the wet lab and as rulebooks for Poster kits.

Dynamicland archive: Handy tools as pages

The highlighted phrase "Handy tools as pages that wrap around wooden squares" refers to physical tools designed like pages, which are attached or fitted around wooden square blocks. This suggests a tangible, modular approach to tools—each "page" is easy to handle and can be physically manipulated, possibly combined or stored neatly. The author highlights these objects as practical, well-crafted tools that are enjoyable to hold and organize, indicating a design philosophy that values tactile interaction and physical modularity in tools within the Dynamicland environment.

Q. What is the purpose of "tool squares" in RealTalk?
A. Pages that wrap slim wooden squares, creating a visible spine that displays the title.

The prompt cleanly isolates the single core idea the user highlighted—that 'tool squares' take the form of pages wrapped around slim wooden squares—and completes the insight with the coherent, source-consistent detail about the visible spine displaying the title, which explains why this design exists (shelf-like organization). It is atomic (one well-defined concept), uses precise, concrete language ('slim wooden squares', 'visible spine') that stays self-explanatory when reviewed in isolation months later, and remains faithful to the tactile, modular design philosophy the user engaged with. The framing 'in RealTalk' anchors it to the correct context without vagueness.


Q. What are "tool squares"?
A. RealTalk pages designed to wrap around slim wooden squares so that their title is visible on the "spine".

The prompt is pluckable. It isolates the single core insight behind the user's highlight—that 'tool squares' are pages wrapped around slim wooden squares—with atomic clarity. The question names the exact term from the source ('tool squares'), ensuring it remains self-explanatory in isolation months later. The answer enriches the highlighted fragment into a complete, coherent unit of knowledge by adding faithful context from the document (RealTalk pages, the visible 'spine' for shelving), which aligns with the user's interpretation emphasizing tactile handling and neat physical organization. The book-spine metaphor makes the concept vivid and durable for long-term retention, and no trivial or external details dilute the recall target.


Q. What is the primary purpose of wrapping pages around wooden squares?
A. To create a functional tool with improved handling and utility.

The prompt drifts away from the highlighted insight. The user's highlight points to a concrete, distinctive design idea from Dynamicland: handy tools embodied as pages that wrap around wooden squares—a tangible, modular form factor. Instead of testing that memorable fact, the prompt asks a speculative 'primary purpose' question whose answer ('improved handling and utility') is generic and could describe any well-designed tool. This fails fidelity (it invents a causal claim not anchored in the source) and stability (the vague phrasing 'primary purpose' becomes ambiguous in isolation months later, and the answer is too abstract to verify consistently). A pluckable version would target the specific construction itself, e.g., asking how handy tools are physically built in Dynamicland.


Q. What is a tool that wraps around wooden squares?
A. Pages

The prompt is pluckable. It directly targets the core of what the user highlighted—the distinctive Dynamicland concept that handy tools take the form of 'pages' wrapping around wooden squares—which serves as a concrete anchor for the broader design philosophy of tactile, modular tools the user found interesting. The question is atomic (tests one well-defined fact), uses specific and concrete language ('wooden squares', 'wraps around') that remains self-explanatory in isolation months later, and stays faithful to the source material without introducing external information. While the one-word answer 'Pages' is terse, the question's specificity makes the intended meaning (physical paper-like tool pages, not web pages) reliably recoverable.


Q. What do pages wrap around in handy tools?
A. Wooden squares

The prompt targets the right surface detail (pages wrapping around wooden squares) but fails the stability criterion. Phrased as 'What do pages wrap around in handy tools?', it strips away all anchoring context—there is no mention of Dynamicland or its tangible-computing environment—so months later the terms 'pages' and 'handy tools' are vague and could refer to almost anything. Additionally, it is essentially a verbatim restatement of the highlighted phrase rather than a self-contained insight, testing a decontextualized fragment instead of the meaningful idea the user engaged with (Dynamicland's modular, tactile design philosophy of tool-pages fitted onto wooden blocks). A pluckable version would anchor the concept explicitly, e.g., 'In Dynamicland, what do tool pages wrap around?'


Summary: Bret Victor provides critical feedback on a draft paper about using AI to augment human intelligence. He fundamentally opposes the approach described in the paper, arguing that true intelligence augmentation (IA) should grow human understanding and capabilities rather than replace them. Victor critiques the authors' examples of font generation and image manipulation tools, arguing they create dependency rather than genuine augmentation, and questions whether AI-driven creative tools strip away meaningful human engagement with creation.

Response to "Using AI to Augment Human Intelligence" draft

claiming that Sophocles can be not just located at, but generated from, one parameter set, and Tolstoy from another, does violence to the entire history of human endeavor?

In this passage, the author—Bret Victor—is critically reflecting on the idea of using machine learning models to represent and generate complex human creative works as points in a mathematical or low-dimensional parameter space. Specifically, he challenges the notion that vast and profound creations like the works of Sophocles or Tolstoy could be reduced merely to a parameter set that a generative model can manipulate or reproduce.

Victor suggests that this reductionism "does violence to the entire history of human endeavor" because it overlooks the rich, multifaceted, deeply contextual, and culturally embedded nature of human creativity. To portray masterpieces of literature or art as nothing more than points or vectors to be generated undermines the intricate human experiences, emotions, cultural dialogues, and historical developments that shape such works.

In the broader context of his critique, Victor is wary of treating creative outputs as mere data for interpolation or recombination by AI tools. He questions whether such computational representations can genuinely capture the essence and meaning of human creative acts, or if they instead flatten and diminish the significance of those acts by placing them in a "contextual void." This critique aligns with his overarching concern that intelligence-augmenting tools should enhance human understanding and creativity rather than replace or trivialize them by outsourcing meaning-making to machines.

Q. What does the critique argue is harmed by reducing literary figures to parameter sets?
A. The entire history of human endeavor

This prompt fails on both fidelity and stability. It merely tests verbatim recall of a rhetorical phrase ('the entire history of human endeavor') from the highlighted sentence, rather than the core insight the user engaged with—namely, why reducing profound creative works like those of Sophocles or Tolstoy to low-dimensional parameter sets flattens their rich, culturally embedded, context-dependent nature and outsources meaning-making to machines. The answer is a decorative fragment of the source text, decontextualized from the actual argument. Additionally, 'the critique' is vague when reviewed in isolation months later, and 'literary figures' imprecisely refers to authors' works, undermining stability. A pluckable prompt would target the conceptual claim (e.g., why Victor argues generative models treating masterpieces as points in parameter space diminishes human creativity), not the exact wording of one clause.


Q. Does representing a work of human creativity as generated from one parameter set do violence to the entire history of human endeavor?
A. Yes

The prompt fails the stability and meaningfulness criteria because it is essentially a tautological restatement of the highlight: it converts Victor's rhetorical assertion into a leading yes/no question whose answer ('Yes') is trivially embedded in the question itself, requiring no genuine recall. It also strips away the concrete anchors that give the insight specificity and durability—Sophocles, Tolstoy, Bret Victor, and the critique of reducing creative works to low-dimensional parameter spaces in machine learning—leaving a generic claim about 'a work of human creativity' that becomes vague in isolation. A pluckable version would ask the user to recall the substantive claim (e.g., what Victor argued is lost when masterpieces are treated as generatable parameter sets, or why he says this does violence to human endeavor), rather than confirm a self-answering question.


Q. Who are the two examples of human creativity mentioned in the text?
A. Sophocles and Tolstoy

The memory prompt tests a trivial surface detail—the names of two authors used as examples—rather than the core insight the user highlighted. The user's engagement was clearly with Bret Victor's substantive critique: that reducing profound creative works like those of Sophocles or Tolstoy to low-dimensional parameter sets 'does violence to the entire history of human endeavor' by flattening culturally rich, contextually embedded creativity into interpolatable data. A pluckable prompt would make this causal/critical claim the focus of recall (e.g., asking why Victor objects to modeling creative works as points in parameter space), since that is the durable, meaningful idea anchored by the highlight. Additionally, the question 'Who are the two examples mentioned in the text?' is context-dependent and vague when reviewed months later in isolation ('the text' is unspecified), failing the stability criterion. Knowing merely that Sophocles and Tolstoy were named captures none of what the user found interesting.


I think most creative people aspire to something more, if for nothing else than to give meaning to their own lives.Do generative interfaces -- replacing creating with searching -- bring a person closer or further from feeling like they have touched the limits of their creative potential and created something truly from their heart?

The author is expressing skepticism about the impact of generative AI interfaces on genuine human creativity. He argues that most creative individuals seek to achieve more than just producing output—they want their work to be a meaningful expression, something that enriches their own lives and resonates deeply. The author questions whether tools that primarily function by searching, interpolating, or remixing existing works—rather than enabling original creation—actually help people reach their fullest creative potential. He worries that such generative interfaces might distance creators from the deeply personal and heartfelt aspects of creativity, turning the process into one of mechanical selection rather than authentic invention. This passage challenges the notion that AI-driven generation equates to meaningful creativity and invites reflection on whether these tools truly nurture human creative growth or undermine it by substituting genuine creation with algorithmic search.

Q. What does the text suggest about generative interfaces?
A. They replace creating with searching

This prompt is not pluckable. First, it targets only a surface fragment of the highlighted idea—the parenthetical phrase 'replacing creating with searching'—while stripping away the actual insight the user engaged with: Bret Victor's concern that generative interfaces may distance creators from feeling they have touched their creative potential or created something truly from their heart, because creative people aspire to meaningful self-expression rather than mere output. Second, the prompt fails on stability: 'What does the text suggest?' is vague and decontextualized, giving no anchoring subject matter that would remain clear months later in isolation. A pluckable version would isolate the single durable insight—for example, asking why the author is skeptical that generative interfaces augment creativity—rather than testing a near-tautological descriptor with no meaningful retrieval context.


Q. What do generative interfaces use instead of creating?
A. Searching

This prompt is unpluckable because it reduces a rich, philosophical highlight to a near-trivial vocabulary detail. The user highlighted Bret Victor's provocative question about whether generative interfaces—which replace creating with searching—bring people closer to or further from touching their creative potential and making something truly heartfelt. The meaningful core is that tension: the worry that search/remix-based generation distances creators from authentic, personally meaningful creation. The prompt captures only the surface-level word swap ('searching' instead of 'creating'), which is essentially self-answering from the question's own phrasing and would be guessable even months later without any real recall. It leaves the actual insight decontextualized: nothing in the prompt requires remembering the concern about creative fulfillment, authenticity, or the heart of creativity. A pluckable version would target the conceptual claim itself—for example, asking why Victor doubts generative interfaces help people reach their fullest creative potential.


Q. What do creative people seek to give to their lives?
A. Meaning

This prompt fails on multiple counts. First, it targets only a trivial fragment of the highlighted insight—the single word 'meaning'—while ignoring the core idea the user engaged with: Bret Victor's skepticism about whether generative interfaces, which replace creating with searching, bring people closer to or further from touching their creative potential and creating 'truly from their heart.' Second, the question is nearly self-answering: asking 'What do creative people seek to give to their lives?' strongly cues the answer 'meaning,' making retrieval trivial rather than meaningful. Third, it lacks specificity and context—it could apply to any source material, so it won't remain clearly tied to Victor's argument about generative AI and authentic creativity when reviewed months later in isolation. A pluckable prompt would instead isolate the durable causal/tension-based insight, e.g., why Victor questions whether search-and-remix interfaces can substitute for heartfelt creation.


Q. What do most creative people aspire to, according to the text?
A. To give meaning to their own lives

The prompt fails fidelity to the highlighted insight. The user's highlight centers on Bret Victor's provocative question: do generative interfaces—which replace creating with searching—bring a person closer to or further from touching the limits of their creative potential and creating something truly from their heart? This is the durable, meaningful idea worth retaining. Instead, the prompt tests a trivial fragment: the setup clause that 'most creative people aspire to give meaning to their own lives.' This answer is generic enough to fit countless texts, lacks connection to the actual point of interest (the critique of search-based generation substituting for authentic creation), and would feel decontextualized on a long review trajectory. It captures neither the causal tension nor the distinction between searching/remixing and heartfelt creation that made the passage memorable.


Q. What do generative interfaces replace in the creative process?
A. Creating

The prompt targets a fragment of the highlighted insight rather than its complete, coherent unit. The user's highlight centers on Bret Victor's claim that generative interfaces work by 'replacing creating with searching,' and his deeper worry that this substitution distances people from heartfelt, meaningful creativity. The prompt only asks what is replaced ('Creating'), omitting the essential other half of the substitution—'with searching'—which is precisely what makes the critique substantive. Recalled in isolation months later, 'generative interfaces replace creating' is nearly vacuous, since the memorable idea is the swap of authentic invention for algorithmic search/remixing. This makes the prompt a decontextualized, low-value fragment that fails the fidelity and meaningfulness criteria.


Q. What do most creative people aspire to?
A. Something more to give meaning to their lives.

This prompt is not pluckable. It isolates only a trivial fragment of the highlighted insight—the generic claim that 'most creative people aspire to something more'—while omitting the actual core idea the user engaged with: Bret Victor's concern that generative interfaces replace creating with searching, potentially distancing people from touching their creative potential and creating something truly from the heart. Stripped of this context, both the question and answer are vague and decontextualized ('something more' is imprecise and could apply to countless sources), failing the stability criterion for isolated review months later. A pluckable prompt would make the essential detail the focus of recall—for example, asking what concern Victor raises about interfaces that substitute algorithmic search for genuine creation—thereby anchoring the memorable, self-contained insight rather than a decorative lead-in sentence.


The author, Bret Victor, is critiquing current AI-based generative tools as insufficient for truly augmenting human intelligence and creativity. Within this broader context, the highlighted phrase—"The essence of invention is falling off the manifold of what is believed to be natural"—encapsulates a crucial point about creativity and intelligence augmentation.

Here, "the manifold of what is believed to be natural" refers metaphorically to the set of familiar, conventional, and existing patterns or ideas that are considered normal or natural within a given domain. Generative AI models tend to operate by mapping or interpolating inputs within a learned low-dimensional space (the manifold) that represents typical or common instances derived from past data. In other words, these models generate variations of existing patterns, staying "on the manifold," within known boundaries.

Victor argues that true invention and high-level creativity do not arise merely from navigating within this conventional space but from "falling off" or breaking away from it—exploring ideas, concepts, or forms outside the established norms and thus generating genuinely novel and paradigm-shifting innovations. This "falling off" involves thinking beyond the current paradigm, producing ideas not predictable or constrained by existing data.

By contrast, current AI tools, by keeping users within the learned manifold, limit creativity by constraining them to what is already known or represented in training data. Therefore, a truly intelligence-augmenting tool would help humans to break free from these constraints—to venture beyond predictable, "natural" boundaries—and assist people in thinking novel thoughts not currently "thinkable" within the prevailing framework. This distinction highlights the author's implicit claim that AI as currently developed might restrict human creativity to reproduction and combination of known patterns rather than enabling genuine invention.

In summary, the phrase expresses the idea that invention requires stepping beyond familiar patterns and that tools aiding human intelligence must facilitate this kind of boundary-breaking thinking, rather than confining users within the conventional "manifold" of established knowledge.

Q. Michael Nielsen/SC argue that the generative UIs help users navigate a high-dimensional space while remaining in "the natural space of fonts or shoes or landscapes". What was Bret Victor's response?
A. "The essence of invention is falling off the manifold of what is believed to be natural. A truly intelligence-augmenting tool would help people fall off."

This prompt is pluckable. It directly targets the core insight the user highlighted—Victor's claim that invention requires 'falling off the manifold'—and frames it as a concrete intellectual exchange: Nielsen's position that generative UIs help users navigate within the natural space versus Victor's rebuttal that true augmentation means escaping it. This contrast structure gives the prompt built-in context, making it meaningful (it captures the philosophical crux of the document, not a triviality) and atomic (it tests one well-defined conceptual distinction). Stability is strong because the prompt uses specific, named sources, quotes the answer verbatim from the source material, and remains self-explanatory even months later without access to the original email—the vivid 'manifold/falling off' metaphor and the fonts/shoes/landscapes example anchor retrieval reliably.


Q. What does 'falling off the manifold of what is believed to be natural' mean in the context of invention?
A. Transcending established mental boundaries by generating ideas that challenge existing paradigms and conventional thinking.

The prompt directly targets the core insight the user highlighted—the meaning of 'falling off the manifold of what is believed to be natural' as the essence of invention. It is atomic, testing a single well-defined concept, and the question embeds the exact quoted phrase, which provides built-in context that keeps the prompt self-explanatory even months later without access to the source document. The answer faithfully captures the idea that invention involves departing from conventional, established patterns rather than merely navigating within them, matching the user's interpretation of Victor's argument. While the answer is somewhat abstract ('transcending established mental boundaries'), the specificity of the quoted phrase in the question anchors the recall, making the prompt durable and meaningful for long-term retention.


Summary: In this interview, computer scientist Alan Kay discusses his philosophy on technology and education. He contrasts computers as "bikes" that amplify human capabilities versus "cars" that do everything for users. Kay argues that modern computing focuses too much on ease of use rather than challenging users to develop their thinking abilities. He emphasizes that education should prioritize powerful ideas over technology, suggesting that profound computing concepts can be taught with minimal equipment.

Interview with Alan Kay

The highlighted phrase "Well, it's complicated" likely captures an implicit tension or caveat in Kay's discussion about technology as amplifiers of human ability. While on the surface, he champions tools like bikes—and by analogy, computers used as "bikes for the mind"—as empowering extensions of our own capacities, he also recognizes that achieving this ideal is not straightforward.

Kay contrasts the empowering potential of tools that amplify human effort (like bikes) with those that do too much for the user (like many modern cars or computers), which can cause atrophy of physical or cognitive skills. He emphasizes the importance of challenging and developing internal abilities, especially in education, and warns against technologies that discourage critical thinking by being overly packaged or easy to use.

Therefore, the "Well, it's complicated" phrase encapsulates that while computers *can* be cognitive amplifiers (mental bikes), current prevalent designs often fall short—they run the risk of making people passive, undermining deeper learning and internal mental faculties. It’s a nuanced view: technology has great potential but also significant pitfalls, and realizing its empowering promise requires careful design, thoughtful educational goals, and active engagement from users. This complexity resists simple conclusions or outright endorsement; instead, it highlights a delicate balance in how we use and think about technology for learning and thinking.

Q. Why is it hard, culturally, to make the computer like a bicycle, rather than a car?
A. Computers are rejected unless they're easy to learn. But some degree of user-unfriendliness is desirable for growth and potential, just like with a bicycle.

The prompt successfully targets the core insight behind the user's highlight: the tension Kay identifies between tools that amplify human ability (bicycles) and those that do too much for the user (cars). It isolates a single, coherent causal unit—the cultural paradox that demand for easy-to-learn technology conflicts with the desirable friction needed for growth—and expresses it precisely using the source's own bicycle/car framing. The metaphor is iconic and durable, so the prompt remains self-explanatory when reviewed in isolation months or years later, without needing the original interview context. The answer is faithful to Kay's argument rather than introducing external claims, and it avoids testing trivial fragments or decorative details.


Interview with Alan Kay

Q. What makes learning a skill similar to learning to ride a bike?
A. Both require sustained effort, practice, and overcoming initial difficulty through persistent engagement.

This prompt is not pluckable because it fails both fidelity and stability. The user's highlight ('Well, it's complicated') anchors a specific, nuanced insight from Alan Kay's interview: that while computers can act as cognitive amplifiers ('bikes for the mind'), prevalent designs often do too much for users, risking passivity and atrophy of internal skills—so realizing technology's empowering potential requires careful design and active engagement. The generated prompt instead tests a generic truism about skill acquisition ('both require sustained effort and practice') that is disconnected from the highlighted concept entirely. Additionally, it lacks stability: the question 'what makes learning a skill similar to learning to ride a bike?' is vague and admits many plausible answers, so retrieval months later would be inconsistent and unlikely to reconstruct the meaningful insight the user actually cared about.


Interview with Alan Kay

Q. What did Kay say about the complexity of the situation?
A. Well, it's complicated

This prompt is unpluckable. It tests a trivial conversational fragment ('Well, it's complicated') rather than the meaningful insight the user engaged with—Kay's nuanced distinction between tools that amplify human ability (bikes for the mind) and those that induce passivity or skill atrophy, and the implications for design and education. The question 'What did Kay say about the complexity of the situation?' is also unstable: 'the situation' is vague and unidentifiable in isolation, and the answer is a contentless filler phrase with no retrievable knowledge. A pluckable prompt would target the core causal insight (e.g., why Kay believes computers can amplify cognition but prevalent designs risk undermining learning) with precise, self-contained language.


Interview with Alan Kay

Q. What does Kay mean when they say 'Well, it's complicated'?
A. It indicates that the topic being discussed has multiple facets and is not straightforward.

This prompt is not pluckable. The highlight 'Well, it's complicated' is a bare fragment whose meaning depends entirely on surrounding context—yet neither the prompt nor the answer specifies what topic Kay was discussing. As a result, the prompt fails stability: reviewed months later in isolation, it would be unclear and unanswerable beyond a trivial response. The answer given ('the topic has multiple facets and is not straightforward') is generic and tautological, applicable to anyone saying 'it's complicated' about anything, so it captures no durable, meaningful insight. Meanwhile, the user's own interpretation shows the real substance they engaged with—the tension between computers as cognitive amplifiers ('bicycles for the mind') and designs that foster passivity or skill atrophy—but the prompt completely misses this core insight, testing instead a decorative fragment. A pluckable version would target that substantive distinction directly.


Interview with Alan Kay

Q. What phrase does Kay use to describe the situation?
A. Well, it's complicated

This prompt is not pluckable. It tests a trivial fragment—recalling a generic conversational phrase ('Well, it's complicated')—rather than the core insight the user engaged with: Kay's nuanced view that computers can amplify cognition like 'bicycles for the mind,' but poorly designed or overly packaged technologies risk passivity and skill atrophy. The question also fails stability: 'the situation' is vague and meaningless in isolation, so months later a reviewer would have no anchor for what situation or discussion the phrase refers to. A pluckable prompt would instead target the substantive tension the interpretation identifies, e.g., why Kay believes computers-as-cognitive-amplifiers require careful design and active engagement rather than turnkey convenience.


Interview with Alan Kay

Q: Looking back to your days at Xerox PARC, and from from your current vantage point at

        Apple, what do you find most surprising about the way technology is being used in the

        classroom?

The highlighted passage poses a question about the surprising aspects of technology use in classrooms, referencing the author's extensive experience at both Xerox PARC and Apple. In response, the broader text reveals that the author views many computers and educational technologies today as being designed like "cars"—devices that do much for the user, reducing the need to understand underlying processes or actively engage intellectually. This leads to a withering of the user's "muscles," whether physical or cognitive.

Instead, the author advocates for technology to function like a "bike," which amplifies a person's own effort and ability without substituting for it, encouraging active participation, learning, and thinking. The passage suggests that in education, challenges that stimulate internal cognitive skills—like imagining, representing, and thinking deeply—are crucial, even if the learning curve is steep. Furthermore, having strong ideas or content is fundamental before relying on machinery, with profound educational concepts being possible even with limited or simple technological tools.

Overall, the author finds it surprising and concerning that current educational technology trends prioritize ease of use and packaged solutions at the expense of challenging and developing students' internal cognitive abilities. They emphasize the importance of technologies that empower and amplify students’ thinking rather than replace it.

Q. What are the main functions of computers in classrooms according to the text?
A. Word processing and spreadsheets.

This prompt is not pluckable. The user's highlight anchors to Alan Kay's core insight about classroom technology—his 'car vs. bicycle' distinction, where technology should amplify a person's own cognitive effort rather than substitute for it, and his surprise that edtech prioritizes ease of use over developing students' internal thinking skills. Instead, the prompt tests a trivial, decontextualized fragment ('word processing and spreadsheets') that captures none of this meaningful insight. It also fails the stability criterion: the framing 'according to the text' is vague when reviewed months later in isolation, and the generic answer could apply to countless sources, making it unmemorable and unfaithful to what the user actually found interesting.


Interview with Alan Kay

In this passage, Kay contrasts two approaches to technology use: one where devices act like "cars," doing things for you so that you don't need to understand or engage actively, and another where devices act like "bikes," amplifying your own capabilities without replacing your effort or thought. Within that context, the highlighted question, "What's the matter with predefined functions?" implicitly challenges the idea of software or systems offering canned, ready-made features that users passively rely on. Kay's argument suggests that predefined, prepackaged functions—while making things easy—can weaken a user’s creativity, understanding, and internal cognitive "muscles." Instead, he advocates for tools that require active learning and engagement, thereby strengthening thinking and problem-solving abilities. The question points to a critique of technologies that provide predefined solutions at the cost of users' intellectual growth, paralleling how cars weaken muscles physically, and overly automated computers weaken mental abilities. Thus, Kay is pushing for systems that function more like bicycles—requiring and amplifying user effort—rather than cars that do things automatically for users.

Q. What effect does using prepackaged solutions have on thinking ability?
A. Causes thinking ability to wither.

The prompt successfully isolates the core insight behind the highlighted question ('What's the matter with predefined functions?'): Kay's critique that passively relying on prepackaged, canned solutions causes cognitive abilities to atrophy, paralleling how cars weaken physical muscles. It is atomic (tests one clear causal relationship), faithful to the complete idea the user engaged with, and uses concise, evocative language ('wither') that remains self-explanatory and retrievable in isolation months later. While it omits the vivid car/bicycle analogy and paraphrases 'predefined functions' as 'prepackaged solutions,' these are minor issues that do not compromise the durability, clarity, or fidelity of the remembered concept.


Interview with Alan Kay

Q. According to Kay, what is the key difference between a bike and a car as technological tools?
A. A bike amplifies human capabilities by engaging the user fully, while a car replaces human effort and leads to atrophy.

The prompt is pluckable. It isolates a single, well-defined concept—Kay's bike-vs-car metaphor—which the interpretation identifies as the anchor for the user's highlighted question about predefined functions. It is atomic (one clean contrast), precise, and self-contained, so it remains retrievable months later without the original context. It also captures the complete, coherent unit of knowledge behind the highlight: the car represents technology that replaces human effort (leading to atrophy, whether physical or mental), while the bike amplifies the user's own capabilities. This directly underpins the critique of predefined, passively-consumed functions the user engaged with. While a slightly tighter variant could name 'predefined functions' explicitly, the prompt faithfully targets the core insight the user found meaningful and passes both the meaningfulness and stability criteria.


Interview with Alan Kay

Q. What analogy is used to criticize current educational practices?
A. Putting toddlers in motorized vehicles to learn driving.

The prompt fails the fidelity criterion: the user's highlight ('What's the matter with predefined functions?') anchors the core insight of Kay's car-versus-bike contrast—predefined, canned functions make things easy but atrophy the user's understanding and cognitive effort, so tools should amplify active engagement like bicycles do. Instead of targeting this central idea, the prompt tests a different, decorative analogy ('putting toddlers in motorized vehicles to learn driving') and frames it around 'current educational practices,' a context not established by the highlight or its interpretation. This makes the prompt both misaligned with what the user cared about and unstable on long review intervals, since the vague educational framing and tangential example would feel disconnected without the original reading context.


Interview with Alan Kay

Q. Why is a bike considered a great force amplifier?
A. It amplifies everything a person has without detracting from them.

The prompt fails the fidelity criterion: the user's highlight targets Kay's critique of predefined functions—canned features that passively serve users and atrophy their thinking, just as cars atrophy muscles. The prompt instead tests a peripheral detail (why a bike is a 'force amplifier') and severs it from the essential car-vs-bike contrast that gives the insight meaning. Its answer ('It amplifies everything a person has without detracting from them') is also vague and generic—it could describe many tools and lacks the specific, concrete framing needed for stable retrieval months later in isolation.


Interview with Alan Kay

Q. What analogy is used to describe the negative impact of predefined functions on thinking?
A. Putting a person into a car causing muscles to wither.

The prompt directly targets the answer to the user's highlighted question ('What's the matter with predefined functions?'), which is the core of Kay's argument in this passage. The analogy of a car causing muscles to wither is not a decorative example—it is the essential vehicle for the insight that prepackaged, passive technology weakens mental capabilities just as cars weaken physical ones. The prompt is atomic (tests one single analogy), faithful to the highlighted concept, and stable: 'predefined functions,' 'thinking,' and the concrete car/muscles-withering image are specific and self-explanatory enough to be reliably retrieved in isolation months or years later.


Summary: This Wikipedia article discusses "Atoms for Peace," a speech delivered by U.S. President Dwight D. Eisenhower to the UN General Assembly on December 8, 1953. The speech launched a program that supplied nuclear equipment and information globally for peaceful purposes. It was part of "Operation Candor," designed to shift public focus from military applications of nuclear technology. The article examines the speech's historical context, its impact on nuclear proliferation policies, and its legacy in establishing international nuclear regulatory frameworks.

Atoms for Peace

Both Operation Candor and Atoms for Peace were influenced by the January 1953 report of the State Department Panel of Consultants on Disarmament, which urged that the United States government practice less secrecy and more honesty toward the American people about the realities of the nuclear balance and the dangers of nuclear warfare,[4]  which triggered in Eisenhower a desire to seek a new and different approach to the threat of nuclear war in international relations.[5]

The highlighted passage explains a crucial influence behind two significant Cold War initiatives: Operation Candor and Atoms for Peace. Both programs were shaped by a January 1953 report from the State Department Panel of Consultants on Disarmament. This report recommended that the U.S. government reduce its secrecy and adopt greater transparency and honesty with the American public regarding the nuclear arms situation—the balance of nuclear power—and the true risks posed by nuclear warfare. This recommended shift toward openness was significant enough to prompt President Eisenhower himself to pursue a new approach to dealing with the threat of nuclear war on the international stage. In essence, this passage reveals that the call for more candid communication about nuclear dangers helped motivate Eisenhower to launch Atoms for Peace, signaling a strategic move to manage nuclear issues not only through military means but also via diplomatic, peaceful initiatives and public engagement.

Q. What was the aim of Operation Candor and Atoms for Peace?
A. A shift in U.S. government policy to practice less secrecy and more honesty about the nuclear balance and the dangers of nuclear warfare.

The prompt distorts the highlighted insight. The source states that Operation Candor and Atoms for Peace were *influenced by* the January 1953 State Department Panel report, which *urged* the U.S. government toward less secrecy and more honesty about nuclear realities. The prompt reframes this as the 'aim' of both programs, converting an influence into a purpose—a claim the passage does not make. In reality, the two initiatives had distinct aims (Candor as a domestic candor campaign, Atoms for Peace as an international diplomatic proposal), so the compound question also flattens that distinction. A faithful, pluckable prompt would ask what influenced the two programs or what the 1953 report recommended, preserving the causal link to Eisenhower's new approach.


Atoms for Peace

Q. What did the January 1953 report of the State Department Panel of Consultants on Disarmament urge the US government to do?
A. Practice less secrecy and more honesty about the realities of the nuclear balance and the dangers of nuclear warfare.

This prompt is pluckable. It targets the core insight of the highlighted passage—the specific recommendation made by the January 1953 State Department Panel of Consultants on Disarmament—which is precisely what the user chose to highlight. The question is atomic, testing a single well-defined piece of knowledge, and it is highly stable: by embedding the full, precise name and date of the report in the question, it carries its own context and remains unambiguous when reviewed in isolation months or years later. The answer is faithful to the source text ('less secrecy and more honesty about the realities of the nuclear balance and the dangers of nuclear warfare') without introducing external information or reducing the insight to a trivial fragment. While the highlight also mentions the causal link to Eisenhower's new approach, the prompt correctly anchors on the most durable, self-contained fact within the highlighted unit.


Atoms for Peace

Q. What report influenced both Operation Candor and Atoms for Peace?
A. The January 1953 report of the State Department Panel of Consultants on Disarmament

The prompt is pluckable. It is atomic, testing one well-defined fact: the identity of the report that influenced both Operation Candor and Atoms for Peace. It is directly faithful to the highlighted passage, which centers on this exact causal link, so it targets the detail the user genuinely cared about rather than a decorative fragment. It is also stable: the question is self-explanatory in isolation, and the answer ('the January 1953 report of the State Department Panel of Consultants on Disarmament') is specific and unambiguous, making reliable recall feasible months or years later without the original context. While an additional prompt covering the report's content (urging less secrecy and more honesty about nuclear dangers) would enrich retention, this prompt cleanly and durably captures the core anchoring fact of the highlight.


Atoms for Peace

Q. What term did Eisenhower use to describe the strategy of shifting public focus away from the military?
A. Psychological warfare

The memory prompt fails on fidelity to the highlighted concept. The user's highlight focuses on the January 1953 State Department Panel of Consultants on Disarmament report, which urged greater honesty and less secrecy about nuclear realities and thereby inspired Operation Candor and Atoms for Peace. The prompt instead tests an unrelated term ('psychological warfare') drawn from elsewhere in the document, ignoring the core insight the user engaged with. Additionally, the framing 'strategy of shifting public focus away from the military' is vague and potentially unstable when reviewed in isolation months later, making retrieval unreliable. A pluckable prompt would target the causal link between the 1953 disarmament panel's recommendation for candor and Eisenhower's launch of these initiatives.


Atoms for Peace

Q. Whose desire was triggered to seek a new approach to nuclear war threats after the 1953 report?
A. Eisenhower's desire.

This prompt fails on both meaningfulness and stability. It tests a trivial fragment—who had the desire—rather than the core insight the user highlighted: that the January 1953 State Department Panel of Consultants on Disarmament report urged the U.S. government toward less secrecy and more honesty about the nuclear balance and dangers of nuclear warfare, thereby prompting a new approach that shaped Operation Candor and Atoms for Peace. Knowing merely that 'Eisenhower' was the person involved adds little durable value, especially since his association with Atoms for Peace makes the answer guessable from general knowledge. Additionally, 'the 1953 report' is too vague when reviewed in isolation months later—the reviewer may not know which report is meant, undermining stability. A pluckable version would target the report's actual recommendation (greater candor about nuclear realities) or its influence on specific initiatives.


Atoms for Peace

The United States then launched an "Atoms for Peace" program that supplied equipment and information to schools, hospitals, and research institutions within the U.S. and throughout the world. The first nuclear reactors in Israel[2] and Pakistan[citation needed] were built under the program by American Machine and Foundry, a company more commonly known as a major manufacturer of bowling equipment.

The highlighted passage explains that following Eisenhower's "Atoms for Peace" speech, the United States initiated a program aimed at promoting peaceful uses of atomic energy by providing nuclear-related equipment and knowledge to civilian institutions such as schools, hospitals, and research centers, both domestically and globally. Notably, this initiative played a direct role in establishing the first nuclear reactors in countries like Israel and Pakistan. An interesting detail is that these reactors were constructed by the American Machine and Foundry company, a firm more widely recognized for producing bowling equipment rather than nuclear technology. This emphasizes how the program leveraged unexpected industrial participants to advance nuclear technology for civilian purposes worldwide. The passage underscores the program’s dual role in disseminating nuclear technology internationally and fostering peaceful applications beyond military uses.

Q. What was the primary purpose of the United States' _"Atoms for Peace"_ program?
A. To promote the peaceful use of nuclear energy by providing equipment and information to schools, hospitals, and research institutions in the U.S. and around the world.

The prompt is pluckable: it isolates a single, well-defined concept—the purpose and mechanism of the Atoms for Peace program—that sits at the center of the user's highlighted text and interpretation. It is faithful to the source (supplying equipment and information to schools, hospitals, and research institutions domestically and worldwide), atomic in scope, and phrased concretely enough to remain answerable in isolation months later. While it omits the colorful anecdotal detail about American Machine and Foundry's bowling-equipment background, that detail is decorative relative to the core insight the user emphasized: the program's role in disseminating nuclear technology for peaceful civilian applications.


Atoms for Peace

Q. What was the purpose of the "Atoms for Peace" program launched by the United States?
A. To supply equipment and information to schools, hospitals, and research institutions within the U.S. and throughout the world.

The prompt is atomic, asking a single well-defined question about the core purpose of the 'Atoms for Peace' program, which is directly drawn from the first sentence of the user's highlight. It uses precise, concrete language ('supply equipment and information to schools, hospitals, and research institutions within the U.S. and throughout the world') that remains self-explanatory when reviewed in isolation months later, satisfying stability. While the highlight also contains more colorful details (the Israel/Pakistan reactors built by a bowling-equipment manufacturer), the program's purpose is the foundational insight that anchors the passage and reflects the user's stated understanding of its role in disseminating nuclear technology for peaceful civilian applications. The prompt faithfully captures a durable, meaningful unit of knowledge without introducing external information or testing trivial fragments.


Atoms for Peace

Q. Which company built the first nuclear reactors in Israel and Pakistan under the Atoms for Peace program?
A. American Machine and Foundry

The prompt is pluckable because it directly targets the specific detail the user highlighted and explicitly flagged as interesting in their interpretation—that the first nuclear reactors in Israel and Pakistan under the Atoms for Peace program were built by American Machine and Foundry. The question is atomic (tests one well-defined fact), uses precise terms from the source ('Atoms for Peace program', 'first nuclear reactors in Israel and Pakistan'), and remains self-explanatory when reviewed in isolation months later. While one might argue the 'bowling equipment' contrast adds color, the core retrievable unit—the company responsible—is exactly what the user engaged with, making it both meaningful and stable.


Atoms for Peace

Q. Which two countries built their first nuclear reactors under the Atoms for Peace program?
A. Israel and Pakistan

The prompt targets a specific, concrete fact drawn directly from the user's highlight: that Israel and Pakistan had their first nuclear reactors built under the Atoms for Peace program. It is atomic (tests one well-defined piece of knowledge), stable (the program name is embedded in the question, so it remains self-explanatory in isolation months or years later), and faithful to the core of what the user engaged with—the program's role in spreading nuclear technology internationally. While the highlight also contained the colorful detail about American Machine and Foundry's bowling equipment background, testing the two countries is a clean, durable unit of knowledge on its own and does not misrepresent or trivialize the highlighted insight.


Summary: The "Canadian Caper" was a covert operation in 1980 during the Iran hostage crisis, in which six American diplomats who evaded capture during the seizure of the US embassy in Tehran were sheltered by Canadian diplomats and then exfiltrated from Iran using fake Canadian identities and a cover story involving a fictitious Hollywood film production. The operation was a joint effort between the Canadian government and the CIA, and its details remained classified for years. The event has since been depicted in popular culture, most notably in the film "Argo."

Canadian Caper

The "Canadian Caper" was the joint covert rescue by the Government of Canada and the US Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) of six American diplomats who had evaded capture during the seizure of the United States embassy in Tehran, Iran, on November 4, 1979, after the Iranian Revolution, when Islamist students took most of the American embassy personnel hostage, demanding the return of the US-backed Shah for trial.[1]

The highlighted passage, "Example of Canada as a strong ally and a separate entity that can facilitate in precarious situations," captures a key theme of the Canadian Caper as detailed in the full text. The author is emphasizing Canada’s unique dual role in the 1980 rescue of six American diplomats from Iran during the hostage crisis.

Firstly, Canada is portrayed as a "strong ally" of the United States by actively cooperating in a complex and risky covert operation. Canadian diplomats and government officials took significant personal and national risks by sheltering American diplomats and working closely with the CIA to ensure their safe escape. This illustrates Canada's commitment to supporting the US in a critical geopolitical moment.

At the same time, Canada is described as a "separate entity" capable of independent action — using its diplomatic status and resources to navigate a dangerous international crisis. The Canadians acted decisively and creatively by offering sanctuary, issuing Canadian passports with fake identities, and executing the elaborate cover story of the fake Hollywood film production to facilitate the escape. Their initiative and diplomatic leverage were essential to the operation’s success.

Thus, this line encapsulates the main idea that Canada’s involvement was both that of a loyal partner to the US and an autonomous actor with its own strategic capacity and influence. The passage highlights Canada’s diplomatic ingenuity and courage which allowed it to play a crucial, distinct role in a delicate and high-stakes situation. It underscores the broader significance of the Canadian Caper as a rare example where alliance, sovereignty, and creative diplomacy converged to safely resolve a precarious international crisis.

Q. What sequence of major events led to the US embassy seizure in Tehran on November 4, 1979?
A. The Iranian Revolution in early 1979 overthrew the Shah and established the Islamic Republic; rising anti-American sentiment peaked when Islamist students seized the US embassy in Tehran on November 4, 1979.

The prompt fails the fidelity criterion: the user's highlight centers on the Canadian Caper itself—the joint covert rescue by Canada and the CIA—and the interpretation explicitly frames the core insight as Canada's dual role as a strong ally and an independent actor executing creative diplomacy (sanctuary, fake passports, the Hollywood cover story). Instead of targeting this insight, the prompt tests background context—why the US embassy was seized in November 1979—which is peripheral setup rather than the idea the user cared about. Additionally, the phrasing 'What sequence of major events' is vague and compound, inviting an open-ended causal narrative whose exact scope would be hard to reproduce consistently months later, undermining stability. A pluckable alternative would directly target the highlighted concept, e.g., 'What was the Canadian Caper?' or 'How did Canada help six American diplomats escape Iran after the 1979 embassy seizure?'


Canadian Caper

Q. How did the 1979 Iranian Revolution contribute to the seizure of the US embassy and its diplomatic impact?
A. The revolution's anti-American and anti-Shah sentiment led to the embassy seizure, triggering a prolonged diplomatic crisis between the US and Iran.

The prompt fails the fidelity criterion: the user's highlight centers on the Canadian Caper itself—the joint covert rescue by Canada and the CIA of six American diplomats—yet the prompt instead targets background context (the Iranian Revolution's role in causing the embassy seizure). This shifts focus away from the core insight the user engaged with (Canada's dual role as loyal ally and autonomous actor executing creative diplomacy). Additionally, the question is compound and vague, asking both how the revolution contributed to the seizure and its 'diplomatic impact,' which lacks the precision needed for stable long-term retrieval.


Canadian Caper

Q. What were the political motivations of the Islamist students who took US embassy staff hostage during the Iranian Revolution?
A. They demanded the return of the US-backed Shah for trial and protested American interference in Iranian affairs.

This prompt is not pluckable because it fails to target the core insight the user engaged with. The highlight and its interpretation center on the Canadian Caper itself—Canada's dual role as a strong US ally and an independent actor whose diplomatic ingenuity enabled the rescue of six American diplomats. The prompt instead tests peripheral background context (the Islamist students' motivations for seizing the embassy), which is only incidentally mentioned in the highlight. Worse, the answer introduces external information ('protested American interference in Iranian affairs') that does not appear in the highlighted text, violating fidelity to the source material and creating instability on long review trajectories. A pluckable prompt would have isolated the durable insight about the Canadian Caper—for example, asking what the operation was or how Canada contributed—rather than testing a decontextualized fragment of setup detail.


Canadian Caper

Q. What were the immediate objectives of the hostage-takers during the seizure of the US embassy in 1979?
A. Their immediate objectives were to secure the return of the Shah to Iran and gain leverage against perceived US influence.

This prompt is not pluckable because it targets the wrong detail relative to the user's interest. The highlight anchors the Canadian Caper itself—the joint Canada–CIA covert rescue of six American diplomats—and the interpretation centers on Canada's dual role as a strong ally and an independent diplomatic actor. The memory prompt instead asks about the hostage-takers' objectives, which is merely background context in one clause of the highlighted sentence ('demanding the return of the US-backed Shah for trial'). It thus tests a trivial fragment while leaving the core insight (the rescue operation and Canada's distinctive contribution) untested. Additionally, fidelity suffers: the answer's claim that hostage-takers sought 'leverage against perceived US influence' goes beyond what the highlighted text states, introducing external information that weakens stability when reviewed in isolation months later.


Canadian Caper

Q. What broader political context of the Iranian Revolution connected it to the US embassy hostage crisis?
A. The revolution replaced a US-backed monarchy with an anti-Western Islamic Republic, fueling distrust and confrontation with the US.

The memory prompt is not pluckable because it fails fidelity to the highlighted concept. The user highlighted the definition of the Canadian Caper itself—a joint Canada-CIA covert rescue of six American diplomats during the 1979 Tehran embassy seizure—and their interpretation centers on Canada's dual role as a strong ally and an independent, resourceful actor. The prompt instead tests background political context (why the Iranian Revolution led to the hostage crisis), which is adjacent scene-setting rather than the core insight the user engaged with. Additionally, the answer is a loose interpretive generalization ('anti-Western Islamic Republic, fueling distrust') that goes beyond the highlighted text and is worded vaguely ('broader political context'), undermining stability for isolated long-term review. A pluckable prompt would target the rescue operation itself, e.g., what the Canadian Caper was and the roles Canada and the CIA played.


Canadian Caper

Q. How did the 1979 Iranian Revolution contribute to the storming of the US embassy and the resulting hostage crisis?
A. The revolution's creation of an Islamic Republic and anti-US sentiment led directly to the embassy takeover and hostage situation.

The memory prompt fails the fidelity criterion: the user's highlight centers on the Canadian Caper itself—the joint Canada–CIA covert rescue of six American diplomats and Canada's dual role as loyal ally and independent actor—yet the prompt instead tests background context about why the Iranian Revolution led to the embassy seizure. This shifts focus away from the core insight the user engaged with, leaving the actual highlighted concept (Canada's role in the rescue) untested. Additionally, the prompt's answer is imprecise relative to the source: the highlight attributes the hostage-taking to Islamist students demanding the return of the US-backed Shah for trial, whereas the prompt offers a generalized 'anti-US sentiment' explanation that drifts from the source material. While the question is technically stable and answerable in isolation, it targets the wrong detail—a decorative piece of background rather than the meaningful, durable insight anchored by the highlight.


Canadian Caper

Q. How did the 1979 Iranian Revolution change Iran’s government structure?
A. It replaced the Shah's monarchy with an Islamic Republic led by Ayatollah Khomeini.

This prompt is not pluckable because it fails the meaningfulness criterion: it tests background context (how the Iranian Revolution changed Iran's government) rather than the core insight the user highlighted—the Canadian Caper itself, i.e., the joint covert rescue of six American diplomats by Canada and the CIA. The user's interpretation centers on Canada's dual role as a strong ally and an independent diplomatic actor executing a risky covert operation; the generated prompt ignores this entirely. Additionally, it violates fidelity by introducing external details (Ayatollah Khomeini, the Islamic Republic) that go beyond the highlighted passage, which only mentions the Revolution as context for the embassy seizure. While the prompt is atomic and stable in isolation, it targets the wrong detail—a tangential historical fact instead of the durable, meaningful insight the user engaged with.


Canadian Caper

Q. In what way did the Islamic Republic’s anti-American stance contribute to the 1979 hostage crisis?
A. Hostility toward the US led to embassy seizures as a protest against American policies and support for the Shah.

This prompt is not pluckable because it completely misses the core insight the user highlighted. The highlight anchors on the Canadian Caper itself—the joint covert rescue by Canada and the CIA of six American diplomats—and the interpretation emphasizes Canada's dual role as a strong ally and an independent actor using creative diplomacy (sheltering diplomats, issuing fake passports, the Hollywood film cover story). Instead, the prompt tests vague background context about the causes of the hostage crisis ('anti-American stance'), which is tangential to what the user found interesting. Additionally, it fails stability: the question uses generic, imprecise framing ('in what way did X contribute') and the answer is a loose overgeneralization ('hostility toward the US led to embassy seizures') that drifts from the specific facts in the source (Islamist students seizing the embassy demanding the Shah's return for trial). A pluckable prompt would have targeted the essential detail—e.g., which two entities jointly conducted the covert rescue of the six American diplomats who evaded capture in Tehran.


Canadian Caper

Q. [Iranian Revolution] What cover story was used in the 'Canadian Caper' to exfiltrate six American diplomats from Tehran in 1979?
A. The diplomats posed as a Canadian film crew scouting locations for a fake science-fiction movie titled 'Argo.'

This prompt is pluckable. It is atomic and precise, testing a single well-defined fact—the fake film-crew cover story ('Argo')—that is the most vivid and durable anchor of the Canadian Caper. It aligns with the user's highlighted interest: their interpretation explicitly cites the 'elaborate cover story of the fake Hollywood film production' as evidence of Canada's diplomatic ingenuity and autonomous action, so the prompt makes the essential detail of that insight the focus of recall. The question is self-contained and unambiguous, remaining answerable months later without the original context. One minor imperfection: the exfiltration was actually executed in January 1980 (the 1979 date refers to the embassy seizure), so the prompt slightly misdates the event—but this does not undermine retrieval of the core, accurate insight.


Summary: This Wikipedia article explains Cross-origin resource sharing (CORS), a mechanism that allows web pages to request resources from domains other than their own in a controlled, secure manner. CORS works by adding HTTP headers that let browsers and servers determine whether cross-origin requests should be permitted, providing more functionality than same-origin policies while maintaining security. The article covers technical implementation, request examples, headers, browser support, history, and comparison with JSONP.

Cross-origin resource sharing

A wildcard same-origin policy is appropriate when a page or API response is intended to be accessible to any code on any site. A freely available web font on a public hosting service like Google Fonts is an example.

The highlighted passage is explaining the use case and appropriateness of setting a wildcard ("*") value in the Access-Control-Allow-Origin (ACAO) header for Cross-Origin Resource Sharing (CORS).

To unpack this:

- The "same-origin policy" by default restricts web pages from making requests to a different domain than the one that served the page, for security reasons. However, there are legitimate scenarios where resources should be accessible to any domain.

- Using a wildcard ACAO header (Access-Control-Allow-Origin: *) means the resource explicitly allows requests from any origin. This essentially disables the origin-based restriction, making the resource publicly accessible cross-origin.

- This approach is suitable when the resource is meant to be universally accessible without restrictions—such as public assets or openly available APIs.

- The passage gives the example of a freely available web font hosted on a public service like Google Fonts. Such fonts need to be loadable by any website, so setting the wildcard allows any site to fetch these fonts via cross-origin requests without triggering browser security blocks.

- Importantly, the wildcard does not work with requests that include credentials like cookies or HTTP authentication, ensuring some level of security for sensitive interactions.

In essence, the author is clarifying that the wildcard ACAO is a deliberate, appropriate configuration for public, non-sensitive resources that should be universally consumable by any website, using Google Fonts as a concrete example of this practice.

Q. When is a wildcard same-origin policy appropriate?
A. When a page or API response is intended to be accessible to any code on any site

The prompt directly targets the core insight of the highlighted passage: the specific condition under which a wildcard same-origin policy (ACAO: *) is appropriate—namely, when a resource is intended to be universally accessible to code on any site. It is atomic, testing exactly one well-defined concept, and its phrasing mirrors the source material closely, ensuring fidelity to what the user engaged with. The question is self-contained and remains clear even when reviewed in isolation months later, since 'wildcard same-origin policy' is a distinctive, anchored term from the user's own highlight. While adding the concrete example (e.g., public web fonts on Google Fonts) could enrich recall, its absence does not undermine the durability or precision of the core rule being tested.


Cross-origin resource sharing

Q. What is a common example of a resource that would use a wildcard same-origin policy?
A. A publicly available web font hosted on a public service

The prompt is atomic, precise, and directly anchored in the user's highlight. It isolates a single, well-defined fact—the canonical example of a wildcard same-origin policy (a publicly available web font on a public hosting service)—without introducing external information or compounding multiple concepts. Although it tests the illustrative example rather than restating the abstract rule, the example effectively encodes the core insight the user engaged with: wildcard ACAO headers are appropriate for public, non-sensitive resources meant to be universally accessible cross-origin. Recalling 'public web font' reliably reconstructs that principle. The wording ('wildcard same-origin policy') mirrors the source's own terminology and remains self-explanatory in isolation months later, satisfying both the meaningfulness and stability criteria.


Cross-origin resource sharing

Suppose a user visits http://www.example.com and the page attempts a cross-origin request to fetch data from http://service.example.com.  A CORS-compatible browser will attempt to make a cross-origin request to service.example.com as follows.

The browser sends the GET request with an extra Origin HTTP header to service.example.com containing the domain that served the parent page:Origin: http://www.example.com
The server at service.example.com sends one of these three responses:
The requested data along with an Access-Control-Allow-Origin (ACAO) header in its response indicating the requests from the origin are allowed. For example in this case it should be: Access-Control-Allow-Origin: http://www.example.com
The requested data along with an Access-Control-Allow-Origin (ACAO) header with a wildcard indicating that the requests from all domains are allowed: Access-Control-Allow-Origin: *
An error page if the server does not allow a cross-origin request[6]

The highlighted passage explains how the Cross-Origin Resource Sharing (CORS) mechanism operates in practice when a user’s web browser requests data from a different domain than the one serving the original web page. Specifically, it describes the communication steps and server responses involved in a typical cross-origin HTTP GET request.

When a user visits a site like http://www.example.com and the webpage tries to fetch resources from a different domain http://service.example.com (a cross-origin request), a CORS-enabled browser facilitates this by attaching an "Origin" HTTP header to the request. This header specifies the origin domain of the requesting site—in this case, http://www.example.com.

Upon receiving the request with this "Origin" header, the server at service.example.com evaluates whether it permits cross-origin access from that domain. It can respond in one of three ways:
1. It allows the request from the specific origin by including an Access-Control-Allow-Origin header specifying that domain (e.g., Access-Control-Allow-Origin: http://www.example.com), along with the requested data. This explicitly grants permission to that origin to access the resource.
2. It allows requests from any origin by setting the Access-Control-Allow-Origin header to a wildcard "*" (Access-Control-Allow-Origin: *), which signals that the resource is publicly accessible to all domains.
3. It denies the request by returning an error page, indicating that cross-origin requests from that origin are not permitted.

This explanation surfaces key concepts and mechanisms of CORS: the use of the Origin header for origin identification, the server’s control of access permissions via response headers, and the strict enforcement of permissions by browsers for cross-origin requests. Essentially, it demonstrates how CORS enables controlled sharing of resources across domains by coordinating browser requests and server authorizations.

Q. What information does the browser automatically include in the Origin header during a CORS request?
A. The domain that served the parent page making the request

The prompt targets a core, durable insight from the highlighted passage: that the browser automatically attaches an Origin header containing the domain of the parent page during a cross-origin request. This is the foundational identification step of the CORS mechanism the user engaged with, not a trivial detail like the example domain names. The question is atomic (tests one concept), uses precise terminology ('Origin header', 'CORS request') drawn directly from the source, and remains self-explanatory and consistently retrievable even months later in isolation.


Cross-origin resource sharing

Q. What are the three possible ways a server can respond to a CORS request?
A. 1. Allow specific origin with matching ACAO header
2. Allow all origins with ACAO: *
3. Return an error page

The prompt directly targets the core of the user's highlighted passage—the three possible server responses to a cross-origin request (specific-origin ACAO header, wildcard ACAO '*', or an error page). It is atomic, testing a single well-defined concept, and uses precise terminology ('ACAO header', 'CORS request') that remains clear and self-explanatory when reviewed in isolation months later. The answer faithfully reflects the source material without introducing external details or trivial fragments, making it both meaningful relative to the user's interest and stable for long-term retention.


Cross-origin resource sharing

Q. What is the difference between 'Access-Control-Allow-Origin: *' and 'Access-Control-Allow-Origin: http://www.example.com'?
A. '*' allows requests from all domains, while 'http://www.example.com' only allows requests from that specific domain.

The prompt is pluckable. It targets the core distinction within the highlighted CORS passage—the semantic difference between a wildcard ACAO header and a specific-origin ACAO header—which is a central, durable concept the user clearly engaged with. The question is atomic (tests a single well-defined concept), uses precise, concrete terminology ('Access-Control-Allow-Origin: *' vs. a specific origin), and is self-explanatory in isolation, so it remains stable and answerable months later without the original context. The answer is faithful to the source material: the wildcard permits all domains while the specific value permits only that origin.


Cross-origin resource sharing

Cross-origin resource sharing (CORS) is a mechanism to safely bypass the same-origin policy, that is, it allows a web page to access restricted resources from a server on a domain different than the domain that served the web page.

The highlighted passage explains the fundamental purpose of Cross-Origin Resource Sharing (CORS). The author is stating that CORS is a mechanism designed to safely relax the restrictions imposed by the same-origin policy—a security measure implemented in browsers that normally prevents web pages from making requests to a different domain than the one serving the page. By using CORS, web pages can access resources (such as data or APIs) hosted on different domains, but in a controlled and secure manner. This capability expands the functionality of web applications by enabling legitimate cross-domain communication without compromising security, as opposed to simply allowing unrestricted cross-origin requests which could create vulnerabilities.

Q. What is the same-origin policy in web security?
A. A security mechanism that restricts web pages from accessing resources on servers with different domains than the page's origin.

This prompt is not pluckable because it fails fidelity to the highlighted concept. The user's highlight defines Cross-Origin Resource Sharing (CORS)—a mechanism that safely bypasses the same-origin policy to let web pages access resources from different domains. However, the memory prompt instead tests the same-origin policy itself, which is only mentioned in passing as background within the highlight and is not defined there. This shifts focus away from the core insight the user engaged with (what CORS is and its purpose) toward an adjacent concept whose definition had to be inferred or imported from external knowledge. A pluckable prompt would target the highlighted insight directly, e.g., asking 'What is CORS?' with the answer being its definition as a safe mechanism for cross-domain resource access.


Summary: This Wikipedia article explores the concept of egregore in Western esotericism, describing it as a non-physical entity or thoughtform that arises from collective thoughts and emotions of a group. The article traces various interpretations of egregores across different esoteric traditions, from their origins as angelic "watchers" in the Book of Enoch to modern occult interpretations as group minds or independent magical entities.

Egregore

An egregore (also spelled egregor; from French  égrégore, from Ancient Greek  ἐγρήγορος, egrēgoros 'wakeful') is a concept in Western esotericism of a non-physical entity or thoughtform that arises from the collective thoughts and emotions of a distinct group of individuals.[1][2][3]

Overview[edit]
In magical and other occult traditions, it is typically seen as having an independent existence, but in other kinds of esotericism, it is merely the collective mind of a religious community, either esoteric or exoteric. In the latter sense, as a collective mind, the term collective entity, preferred by René Guénon, is synonymous with egregore.

The highlighted passage introduces the concept of an "egregore," tracing its linguistic roots and presenting its fundamental definition within Western esotericism. It explains that an egregore is understood as a non-physical entity or thoughtform that emerges from the collective thoughts and emotions of a specific group of people.

The passage further clarifies that interpretations of egregores vary across esoteric traditions. In magical and occult contexts, egregores are often considered to possess independent existence—meaning they act as autonomous spiritual or psychic beings that can influence or interact with the physical or metaphysical world. In contrast, other esoteric views regard egregores not as distinct entities, but as the collective mind or shared consciousness of a religious or spiritual community.

The French philosopher René Guénon's preferred terminology for this collective mind is "collective entity," which he treats as synonymous with egregore in this context. This distinction highlights two primary ways to understand egregores: either as autonomously existing spiritual beings generated by group focus, or as the emergent, shared psychic phenomenon reflecting the unity of a community’s beliefs and emotions.

In sum, the author is highlighting the dual nature of the egregore concept—either as an independent magical entity or as a collective psychic force—and situating this understanding within the broader framework of Western esoteric thought, with Guénon’s conception providing a significant interpretive lens.

Q. What is an egregore in magical traditions?
A. A collective thoughtform created by shared thoughts and emotions that has an independent existence.

This prompt is pluckable. It targets the core insight of the highlighted text—the fundamental definition of an egregore—rather than trivial details like etymology or citation specifics. The question is atomic, testing a single well-defined concept (the nature of an egregore specifically within magical traditions), which matches the source's own framing that independent existence is characteristic of magical/occult traditions. The phrasing is precise and faithful to the highlight: 'collective thoughtform,' 'shared thoughts and emotions,' and 'independent existence' all map directly onto the source material's language ('non-physical entity or thoughtform that arises from the collective thoughts and emotions of a distinct group'). Stability is strong because the term 'egregore' is distinctive and the question remains fully self-explanatory when reviewed in isolation months or years later, without needing the original document. While it omits the contrasting view (egregore as mere collective mind per Guénon), that omission is appropriate for atomicity rather than a flaw—the user can hold that complementary distinction separately.


Egregore

Q. What is the fundamental nature of an egregore in magical traditions?
A. A thoughtform that arises from collective thoughts and emotions, possessing independent existence.

The prompt successfully isolates the core insight of the highlighted passage: the definition of an egregore specifically within magical/occult traditions, where it is understood as a thoughtform arising from collective thoughts and emotions that possesses independent existence. By scoping the question to 'magical traditions,' it cleanly distinguishes this interpretation from the alternative 'collective mind' view mentioned in the source, avoiding ambiguity. The question is atomic, self-explanatory when reviewed in isolation months later, and faithful to what the user engaged with—the fundamental dual-natured concept of the egregore. While the answer bundles 'arises from collective thoughts' with 'independent existence,' these form one coherent definitional unit in the source rather than two separate facts, so the prompt maintains clarity and stability.


Egregore

Q. In non-magical esoteric traditions, what specifically constitutes an egregore?
A. The collective mind of a religious community, whether esoteric or exoteric, without independent existence.

This prompt is pluckable. It isolates a single, well-defined concept directly tied to the user's highlighted text: the 'collective mind' interpretation of an egregore in non-magical esoteric traditions. The question is precise and stable—it clearly distinguishes the non-magical sense from the occult/magical sense described in the source, so it remains self-explanatory even when reviewed months later without the original context. The answer is faithful to the passage ('the collective mind of a religious community, either esoteric or exoteric'), including the accurate implication that it lacks independent existence, which contrasts with the magical-tradition view mentioned in the same highlight. It avoids trivial fragments and does not introduce external information beyond the core idea the user engaged with.


Egregore

Q. How do magical traditions view egregores differently from other esoteric traditions?
A. Magical traditions see egregores as having independent existence, while other esoteric traditions view them as the collective mind of a religious community.

This prompt is pluckable. It targets the core conceptual distinction the user highlighted—the divergent interpretations of egregores across esoteric traditions—rather than trivial details like spelling or etymology. The question is atomic, testing one coherent comparative insight, and its language ('magical traditions,' 'independent existence,' 'collective mind,' 'religious community') is drawn directly and faithfully from the source, introducing no external information. It is also stable: the prompt names its subject explicitly (egregore) and uses precise, concrete terms, so it remains self-explanatory when reviewed in isolation months later without the original document.


Summary: The Wikipedia article "Frequency illusion" (also known as the Baader–Meinhof phenomenon) explains this cognitive bias, where individuals notice a concept, word, or product more frequently after first becoming aware of it. The article details its causes (notably selective attention and confirmation bias), theoretical explanations, and real-world implications in fields such as linguistics, medicine, marketing, economics, and research methodology. It also discusses related phenomena and the evolutionary basis for frequency-based cognition.

Frequency illusion

The frequency illusion (also known as the Baader–Meinhof phenomenon) is a cognitive bias in which a person notices a specific concept, word, or product more frequently after recently becoming aware of it.

The highlighted passage defines the frequency illusion, also called the Baader–Meinhof phenomenon, as a cognitive bias where, upon becoming newly aware of a particular concept, word, or product, a person starts to notice it more frequently in their environment. This reflects how our perception is influenced by what we mentally focus on—once something captures our attention, it seems to appear more often even though its actual frequency hasn't increased. The snippet encapsulates the core idea that the illusion arises from selective attention: after initial awareness, the brain subconsciously filters for and highlights that stimulus more, creating the sense that it has become more common than before.

Q. What is the frequency illusion (Baader–Meinhof phenomenon)?
A. A cognitive bias where something recently noticed suddenly seems to appear everywhere.

The prompt directly targets the core insight the user highlighted: the definition of the frequency illusion (Baader–Meinhof phenomenon). It is atomic, testing a single well-defined concept, and the question includes both names of the phenomenon for unambiguous recognition. The answer faithfully captures the essential causal link—recent awareness leads to noticing something more often—while remaining concise and stable for isolated retrieval months or years later. It avoids trivial fragments and does not introduce external information beyond the highlighted concept.


Frequency illusion

Q. Who coined the term "Baader–Meinhof phenomenon" and when?
A. Terry Mullen in 1994, in a letter to the St. Paul Pioneer Press.

The memory prompt tests a piece of trivia—who coined the nickname 'Baader–Meinhof phenomenon' and in what year—which is entirely disconnected from the highlighted text and its interpretation. The user's highlight anchors to the definition of the frequency illusion as a cognitive bias driven by selective attention: noticing something more often after becoming newly aware of it. A pluckable prompt would target this core insight (e.g., asking what the frequency illusion is or why recently learned things seem to appear everywhere), making the essential concept the focus of recall. Instead, this prompt isolates a decorative historical footnote about naming attribution, leaving the actual concept decontextualized and untested. It also bundles multiple facts (person, year, publication) into one compound question, further reducing clarity and stability for long-term review.


Summary: "High Flight" is a 1941 sonnet by John Gillespie Magee Jr., a WWII fighter pilot, celebrating the transcendent experience of flight. Inspired by Magee's own high-altitude flight in a Spitfire, the poem has become an iconic piece in aviation culture, widely quoted in memorials, media, and music. Its language and imagery have influenced and been referenced in numerous contexts, from presidential speeches to space exploration, and it draws on both personal experience and earlier poetic traditions.

High Flight

High Flight is a 1941 sonnet written by war poet John Gillespie Magee Jr. and inspired by his experiences as a fighter pilot of the Royal Canadian Air Force in World War II.  Magee began writing the poem on 18 August, while stationed at No. 53 OTU outside London, and mailed a completed manuscript to his family on 3 September, three months before he died in a training accident. Originally published in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, it was widely distributed when Magee became one of the first post-Pearl Harbor American casualties of the war on 11 December,[1] after which it was exhibited at the American Library of Congress in 1942.[2] Owing to its gleeful and ethereal portrayal of aviation, along with its allegorical interpretation of death and transcendence, the poem has been featured prominently in aviation memorials across the world, including that of the Space Shuttle Challenger disaster.[3][4]

The highlighted passage describes the poem "High Flight" as a 1941 sonnet composed by John Gillespie Magee Jr., a war poet and fighter pilot in the Royal Canadian Air Force during World War II. It clarifies that Magee began writing the poem on August 18 while training near London and sent a finished copy to his family by September 3, shortly before he tragically died in a training accident three months later. The poem first appeared in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette and gained widespread attention following Magee’s death, one of the earliest American casualties after Pearl Harbor. It was later showcased at the American Library of Congress in 1942. The passage highlights the poem’s joyous and otherworldly celebration of flight and its deeper symbolic themes of death and spiritual transcendence. Because of these qualities, "High Flight" has become a significant piece featured in many aviation memorials globally, notably including the memorial for the Space Shuttle Challenger disaster. In sum, the author conveys how the poem originated from Magee’s personal flying experience, attained posthumous recognition, and earned lasting cultural and symbolic importance in commemorating aviators and their sacrifices.

Q. How did John Gillespie Magee Jr.’s personal experience as a fighter pilot shape the themes and imagery in his poem "High Flight"?
A. Magee’s experiences as a fighter pilot in World War II inspired "High Flight," imbuing the poem with vivid, jubilant imagery of flight and exploring themes of death and spiritual transcendence rooted in his own aerial journeys and sense of mortality.

This prompt is not pluckable. While it gestures at the core insight (the poem was inspired by Magee's flying experience), it fails on stability and atomicity. First, it is an open-ended, compound question ('How did X shape themes AND imagery?') that invites variable, essay-like answers—difficult to retrieve and self-grade consistently months later in isolation. Second, the provided answer introduces interpretive material not grounded in the highlighted text: the source states only that the poem was 'inspired by his experiences' and describes its 'gleeful and ethereal portrayal of aviation' and 'allegorical interpretation of death and transcendence'; it never establishes that the themes were 'rooted in his own aerial journeys and sense of mortality.' This speculative causal link ('sense of mortality') goes beyond the user's engagement with the text and risks encoding an overgeneralized claim. A pluckable version would isolate one precise, durable fact from the highlight—for example, that 'High Flight' is a 1941 sonnet by RCAF fighter pilot John Gillespie Magee Jr., written shortly before his death in a training accident, and featured in aviation memorials including the Challenger disaster memorial.


High Flight

Q. [High Flight, 1941 (John Gillespie Magee Jr.)] What personal and historical context shaped John Gillespie Magee Jr.’s "High Flight"?
A. Written after a high-altitude Spitfire flight in WWII, "High Flight" captures the thrill and spiritual awe of flight. Completed weeks before Magee’s death, it later gained lasting fame in military and space memorials, including Reagan’s Challenger speech.

This prompt is not pluckable for several reasons. First, it violates atomicity: the compound question ('personal and historical context') bundles together multiple distinct facts—composition circumstances, Magee's death, publication history, and memorial legacy—making consistent retrieval and grading difficult months later. Second, it has fidelity problems: the answer introduces details not anchored in the highlighted text, such as the high-altitude Spitfire flight and Reagan's Challenger speech, which go beyond the core idea the user engaged with. Third, stability suffers: the broad, essay-like framing ('what context shaped...') becomes vague in isolation, and the answer reads as a loose summary rather than a single well-defined fact. Additionally, there is minor factual drift ('completed weeks before' vs. the highlight's 'mailed three months before his death'). A pluckable alternative would isolate one durable fact, e.g., 'Which poem, written by RCAF pilot-poet John Gillespie Magee Jr., is featured in aviation memorials including the Space Shuttle Challenger disaster?'


Summary: The Lindy effect is a theoretical phenomenon proposing that the future life expectancy of non-perishable things (like technologies or ideas) is proportional to their current age. Named after Lindy's delicatessen in New York City, the concept suggests that the longer something has existed, the longer it will likely continue to exist. The theory has been developed by various thinkers, most notably Nassim Nicholas Taleb, who incorporated it into his broader theory of antifragility. Mathematically, the Lindy effect corresponds to lifetimes following a Pareto probability distribution.

Lindy effect

The Lindy effect (also known as Lindy's law[1]) is a theorized phenomenon by which the future life expectancy of some non-perishable things, like a technology or an idea, is proportional to their current age.

The highlighted passage succinctly presents the core concept of the Lindy effect, explaining that for certain kinds of things—specifically non-perishable entities such as technologies or ideas—their expected remaining lifespan increases in direct proportion to how long they have already existed. In other words, the longer such an entity has survived up to the present, the longer it is likely to continue existing into the future. This contrasts with how life expectancy typically works for perishable things (like humans), where getting older usually reduces remaining life expectancy. The Lindy effect implies that longevity itself indicates robustness or resilience, signaling a resistance to becoming obsolete or irrelevant over time. Thus, age becomes a predictor of durability and survival for ideas and technologies that don’t have a fixed expiration date.

Q. What is the idea that the Lindy Effect proposes?
A. Future life expectancy of non-perishable things is proportional to their current age

This prompt directly targets the core insight from the user's highlight: the defining proposition of the Lindy effect. It is atomic (tests one single concept), faithful to the highlighted text (the answer matches the source nearly verbatim), and stable (uses precise, concrete language—'non-perishable things' and 'proportional to their current age'—that remains self-explanatory when reviewed in isolation months later). The question framing 'What is the idea that the Lindy Effect proposes?' is clear and unambiguous for anyone familiar with the term, making it well-suited for long-term retention.


Lindy effect

Q. What is the core principle of the Lindy effect?
A. Future life expectancy of non-perishable things is proportional to their current age

This prompt is pluckable. It captures the exact core insight the user highlighted—the definition of the Lindy effect—without adding external information or testing trivial fragments. It is atomic, testing a single well-defined concept, and the answer faithfully mirrors the highlighted text including the crucial 'non-perishable' qualifier that distinguishes the Lindy effect from ordinary life-expectancy reasoning. The question is stable and self-contained: even months or years later, 'Lindy effect' provides sufficient anchoring context, and the precise answer ('future life expectancy of non-perishable things is proportional to their current age') remains unambiguous and retrievable in isolation.


Lindy effect

Q. Name two examples of non-perishable things to which the Lindy effect applies:
A. Technologies and ideas

The prompt tests a trivial surface detail—the illustrative examples ('technologies and ideas') lifted directly from the definition—rather than the core insight the user highlighted: that for non-perishable things, future life expectancy is proportional to current age, making longevity a predictor of durability. Asking to 'name two examples' is also arbitrary (many examples could qualify), so it neither captures the proportional relationship nor the contrast with perishable things. This decontextualized fragment fails the meaningfulness and fidelity criteria for a pluckable prompt.


Lindy effect

If a book has been in print for forty years, I can expect it to be in print for another forty years. But, and that is the main difference, if it survives another decade, then it will be expected to be in print another fifty years. This, simply, as a rule, tells you why things that have been around for a long time are not "aging" like persons, but "aging" in reverse. Every year that passes without extinction doubles the additional life expectancy. This is an indicator of some robustness. The robustness of an item is proportional to its life! [9]

The highlighted passage explains a key insight of the Lindy effect, emphasizing that for non-perishable things like books, the longer they have already existed, the longer they are expected to continue existing into the future. For example, a book that has been in print for 40 years can be expected to remain in print for another 40 years. Furthermore, if it manages to survive an additional 10 years beyond that point, the expected future lifespan surprisingly increases even more—to about 50 years.

This phenomenon implies that such entities "age in reverse" compared to living beings. Unlike humans who get closer to death the older they get, these cultural or technological entities gain future longevity with each passing year they survive. The passage also highlights that this increasing future lifespan serves as an indicator of robustness or resilience—the durability and stability of the item grow the longer it has already existed. In other words, an item's robustness is directly proportional to its current age, reflecting that surviving through time signals a resistance to obsolescence or extinction.

Q. According to the Lindy Effect, if a non-perishable entity has existed for X years, how many years can it be expected to continue existing?
A. An additional X years

This prompt is pluckable. It targets the core insight of the highlighted passage—the defining rule of the Lindy effect that a non-perishable item's expected remaining lifespan equals its current age—rather than a trivial fragment or decorative detail. It is atomic, testing one well-defined concept, and its generalized 'X years → an additional X years' framing faithfully abstracts the concrete example from the highlight (a book in print for 40 years can be expected to remain in print for another 40 years). The language is specific and self-contained ('non-perishable entity', 'Lindy Effect'), so it remains clear and retrievable even when reviewed in isolation months or years later, without access to the original Wikipedia article.