McSweeney’s: I’m the Guy Who Destroys Antique Books After We Scan Them into Our Company’s Insatiable AI Platform.
People assume scanning is the exciting part. And, sure, it is impressive. They shear off the spine, separate the pages, and run everything through these enormous machines so the computer can absorb every sentence ever written and use it to create some fairly compelling LinkedIn posts. But then, boy oh boy, the wheeled cart carrying those decimated remains comes to me. That is where the human touch enters the process, assuming you count industrial shredders and a giant burn pit out back as an extension of the hand, which I certainly do.
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People ask whether I ever feel bad. Usually this happens after someone learns the books are rare, so I explain that rarity is really just an inventory problem. If there is only one copy left, the efficient move is to make it infinitely reproducible and immediately unavailable to anyone without a subscription. You can see people relax once I walk them through it slowly. Their shoulders slump in an accepting way. They stare. Sometimes they make a wordless rasping, just like the books do as I slide their sliced-out pages into oblivion.