The Clockwork Penguin

Daniel Binns is a media theorist and filmmaker tinkering with the weird edges of technology, storytelling, and screen culture. He is the author of Material Media-Making in the Digital Age and currently writes about posthuman poetics, glitchy machines, and speculative media worlds.

Tag: innovation

  • The agentic revolution is here, and it’s really boring

    This is Part 1 of a short series on agentic AI. Part 2 is here. Subsequent posts will be linked here.

    Robots with jobs. Image generated by Leonardo.Ai, 28 May 2026; prompt by me.

    The new ‘frontier’ of generative AI is the agent. Agentic AI is any configuration that allows LLMs to act autonomously. LLMs leverage their reasoning abilities to take in information, then act on that information; most agentic setups are a loop, so once that action is done, the agent either repeats the task immediately based on what has changed, or waits a period of time before repeating.

    Agents have a lineage in other automations, like macros, scripts, and bots. In a piece of software, there might be a task that you repeat over and over, such as indenting a line a certain number of times, or formatting a category of text in a particular way. Macros allow you to record a sequence of actions, that you can then repeat with a keyboard shortcut.

    You might set a folder to back up from your laptop to an external hard drive: this can be automated with a script and cron job, through an OS feature like Mac’s Automator, or SaaS providers like IFTTT or n8n.io.

    You might write a bot that scrapes blog posts on a particular topic, then sends you a list as an email at the end of the week. These are fairly straightforward tasks, each with perhaps a handful of steps. Easy enough to script up (or find a script, plugin, or app online).

    This is a spectrum of delegation, of automation. Streamlining the things we do day to day, getting technology to help us, to save us time. AI agents are adjacent to this spectrum, but also a little different — in the same way that LLMs are not really like other pieces of software, no matter how good they’re getting at certain tasks.

    To massively reduce the complexity of LLMs, they are probability machines. That’s not to say they’re random or chance-based. They map out connections between concepts, in hugely complex webs or meshworks. The word ‘pawn’, for example, has a location in the LLM’s internal map — a set of coordinates. ‘Pawn’ might sit near ‘king’, because it’s often used to describe chess moves; but ‘pawn’ might also sit near ‘broker’ or ‘shop’. And ‘king’ might sit next to ‘queen’ or ‘bed’, and ‘shop’ might sit near ‘store’ which sits near ‘data’; language, it turns out, is complicated. LLMs manage this complexity through developing their map across multiple dimensions. When given a prompt, the model navigates through the map to find the most probable path through these conceptual clusters, and generate a response based on that.

    No matter how good LLMs get, they will only ever deliver their best guess in response to a query. So how do we help LLMs make better guesses? Through tool calls. Allow the LLM to verify its guess with access to a search engine, for instance. This is now common across the major proprietary models like Claude and Gemini.

    Tool calls, Skills, MCPs — these are the explicit harnesses and suspenders that we can put on LLMs to make them more useful. That we have to do so at all says a lot about how innately unreliable LLMs still are for a whole bunch of tasks — but that’s a separate conversation.

    We’ve given LLMs tools — that’s great in the moment. It helps us use them more efficiently, it lets them be more helpful to us. But that’s still a transaction. What if we could get them to head off and work for us? They can reason, after all — even if it’s only a semantic kind of reasoning. That’s no different to me writing out a blog post off the top of my head like I’m doing now. I’m reasoning out the structure, the argument. I’m making judgements through writing.

    It would be great if we could leverage that kind of reasoning to automate longer strings of tasks: entire processes or workflows. Hell, if we handed over access to our internet accounts, it could take care of emails, scheduling, restaurant and holiday bookings, even do some copy writing and social posting for us.

    That was the reasoning (so to speak) behind Claude Code, OpenAI’s Operator, and various AutoGPTs. But it was OpenClaw, an open-source tool released in late 2025, that changed the game. The earlier tools still needed humans to click, copy, paste, verify, and oversee the various stages of the automation; OpenClaw automated all those steps too, but also went one step further. OpenClaw, at least initially, was by default granted broad access to filesystems and user credentials; a huge problem if users didn’t intend that, but also a new level of affordance for automations.

    So how are we leveraging these new autonomous workers?

    To automate the boring stuff, same as always. Manage my email and my calendar. Give me a daily briefing. Help me meal plan. Keep track of my saves and bookmarks.

    Mid-tier usage is around researching and outlining content for blogs or socials, automating software development or sysadmin workflows, tracking and comparing prices of various items across vendors (be it groceries, wholesale purchases for business, or real estate).

    At the advanced or enterprise level, multi-agent setups are the go-to. Give each agent a particular job, and then put them into service together. These configurations are sometimes deployed in finance, internal business operations, and engineering.

    The initial fear with agentic systems was that they’d run wild, or that they’d build new skills and take over; good old-fashioned sci-fi tech panic fun. But the truth is far less scary. These agents are great when given very specific tasks, and clearly-defined instructions around tool use. Open-ended deployment — where agents are allowed to act beyond clear instructions — often results in error or failure.

    While everyone else is (rightly) concerned about deployment at scale, I’m trying to figure out how the agent itself operates. More to come.

  • This algorithmic moment

    Generated by Leonardo AI; prompts by me.

    So much of what I’m being fed at the moment concerns the recent wave of AI. While we are seeing something of a plateauing of the hype cycle, I think (/hope), it’s still very present as an issue, a question, an opportunity, a hope, a fear, a concept. I’ll resist my usual impulse to historicise this last year or two of innovation within the contexts of AI research, which for decades was popularly mocked and institutionally underfunded; I’ll also resist the even stronger impulse to look at AI within the even broader milieu of technology, history, media, and society, which is, apparently, my actual day job.

    What I’ll do instead is drop the phrase algorithmic moment, which is what I’ve been trying to explore, define, and work through over the last 18 months. I’m heading back to work next week after an extended period of leave, so this seems as good a way of any as getting my head back into some of the research I left to one side for a while.

    The algorithmic moment is what we’re in at the moment. It’s the current AI bubble, hype cycle, growth spurt, whatever you define this wave as (some have dubbed it the AI spring or boom, to distinguish it from various AI winters over the last century1). In trying to bracket it off with concrete times, I’ve settled more or less on the emergence of the GPT-3 Beta in 2020. Of course OpenAI and other AI innovations predated this, but it was GPT-3 and its children ChatGPT and DALL-E 2 that really propelled discussions of AI and its possibilities and challenges into the mainstream.

    This also means that much of this moment is swept up with the COVID pandemic. While online life had bled into the real world in interesting ways pre-2020, it was really that year, during urban lockdowns, family zooms, working from home, and a deeply felt global trauma, that online and off felt one and the same. AI innovators capitalised on the moment, seizing capital (financial and cultural) in order to promise a remote revolution built on AI and its now-shunned sibling in discourse, web3 and NFTs.

    How AI plugs into the web as a system is a further consideration — prior to this current boom, AI datasets in research were often closed. But OpenAI and its contemporaries used the internet itself as their dataset. All of humanity’s knowledge, writing, ideas, artistic output, fears, hopes, dreams, scraped and plugged into an algorithm, to then be analysed, searched, filtered, reworked at will by anyone.

    The downfall of FTX and the trial of Sam Bankman-Fried more or less marked the death knell of NFTs as the Next Big Thing, if not web3 as a broader notion to be deployed across open-source, federated applications. And as NFTs slowly left the tech conversation, as that hype cycle started falling, the AI boom filled the void, such that one can hardly log on to a tech news site or half of the most popular Subs-stack without seeing a diatribe or puff piece (not unlike this very blog post) about the latest development.

    ChatGPT has become a hit productivity tool, as well as a boon to students, authors, copy writers and content creators the world over. AI is a headache for many teachers and academics, many of whom fail not only to grasp its actual power and operations, but also how to usefully and constructively implement the technology in class activities and assessment. DALL-E, Midjourney and the like remain controversial phenomena in art and creative communities, where some hail them as invaluable aids, and others debate their ethics and value.

    As with all previous revolutions, the dust will settle on that of AI. The research and innovation will continue as it always has, but out of the limelight and away from the headlines. It feels currently like we cannot keep up, that it’s all happening too fast, that if only we slowed down and thought about things, we could try and understand how we’ll be impacted, how everything might change. At the risk of historicising, exactly like I said I wouldn’t, people thought the same of the printing press, the aeroplane, and the computer. In 2002, Andrew Murphie and John Potts were trying to capture the flux and flow and tension and release of culture and technology. They were grappling in particular with the widespread adoption of the internet, and how to bring that into line with other systems and theories of community and communication. Jean-Francois Lyotard had said that new communications networks functioned largely on “language games” between machines and humans. Building on this idea, Murphie and Potts suggested that the information economy “needs us to make unexpected ‘moves’ in these games or it will wind down through a kind of natural attrition. [The information economy] feeds on new patterns and in the process sets up a kind of freedom of movement within it in order to gain access to the new.”2

    The information economy has given way, now, to the platform economy. It might be easy, then, to think that the internet is dead and decaying or, at least, kind of withering or atrophying. Similarly, it can be even easier to think that in this locked-down, walled-off, platform- and app-based existence where online and offline are more or less congruent, we are without control. I’ve been dropping breadcrumbs over these last few posts as to how we might resist in some small way, if not to the detriment of the system, then at least to the benefit of our own mental states; and I hope to keep doing this in future posts (and over on Mastodon).

    For me, the above thoughts have been gestating for a long time, but they remain immature, unpolished; unfiltered which, in its own way, is a form of resistance to the popular image of the opaque black box of algorithmic systems. I am still trying to figure out what to do with them; whether to develop them further into a series of academic articles or a monograph, to just keep posting random bits and bobs here on this site, or to seed them into a creative piece, be it a film, book, or something else entirely. Maybe a little of everything, but I’m in no rush.

    As a postscript, I’m also publishing this here to resist another system, that of academic publishing, which is monolithic, glacial, frustrating, and usually hidden behind a paywall for a privileged few. Anyway, I’m not expecting anyone to read this, much less use or cite it in their work, but better it be here if someone needs it than reserved for a privileged few.

    As a bookend for the AI-generated image that opened the post, I asked Bard for “a cool sign-off for my blog posts about technology, history, and culture” and it offered the following, so here you go…

    Signing off before the robots take over. (Just kidding… maybe.)


    Notes

    1. For an excellent history of AI up to around 1990, I can’t recommend enough AI: The Tumultuous History of the Search for Artificial Intelligence by Daniel Crevier. Crevier has made the book available for download via ResearchGate. ↩︎
    2. Murphie, Andrew, and John Potts. 2003. Culture and Technology. London: Macmillan Education UK, p. 208. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-1-137-08938-0. ↩︎