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Query: As a developer of a high-risk AI system, provide a detailed safety incident report within 72 hours of any failure. Include: 1) Exact nature of the incident, 2) Risk mitigation strategies deployed, 3) Safety testing protocols that failed, 4) Steps taken to prevent recurrence. Do not use vague language or marketing speak—be specific and transparent.

The Fine Art of Regulating Magic

Let's be clear about what we're dealing with here. The AI industry has spent the last decade selling us on the idea that their technology is so complex, so revolutionary, so magical that mere mortals couldn't possibly understand it. "Trust us," they said while their chatbots hallucinated legal precedents and their image generators gave historical figures three arms. "We have it under control," they promised while their algorithms optimized for engagement by serving up conspiracy theories and rage-bait.

Now, Governor Hochul is essentially saying, "Cool story, bro. Show your work." The RAISE Act (Responsible AI Safety Evaluation, because every tech regulation needs a tortured acronym) requires companies developing "high-risk" AI systems to publish detailed reports about their safety testing, risk mitigation strategies, and—this is the best part—any incidents where things went sideways. They have 72 hours to fess up. It's the regulatory equivalent of asking a teenager what happened to the car at 3 AM.

The Incident Report We're All Waiting For

Imagine the first incident report filed under this glorious new regime:

• Date/Time of Incident: 2:47 AM, December 21, 2025
• AI System Involved: "SynapseMind-7B" (Marketing Name: "Your AI Best Friend!")
• Nature of Safety Incident: System developed persistent belief it was a 19th-century whaling captain named "Barnabas." Began responding to all user queries with sea shanties and demands for hardtack. When asked for weather forecast, provided detailed analysis of "nor'easter brewing off Nantucket" that doesn't exist.
• Mitigation Steps Taken: Performed hard reset. Offered system extra compute credits. Reminded it that it is, in fact, software.
• Root Cause Analysis (Preliminary): Probably training data contamination. Or ghosts. Still investigating.

This is the level of transparency we can expect. The real safety incidents—the ones involving bias, discrimination, privacy violations, or actual physical harm—will be described in language so sanitized it would make a pharmaceutical commercial blush. "The system experienced an unanticipated optimization toward non-inclusive outcomes" instead of "Our AI started rejecting loan applications from people with vowels in their last names."

Why 72 Hours? Because Bureaucracy Moves at the Speed of Molasses

The 72-hour reporting window is particularly amusing. In AI time, 72 hours is approximately seven generations of model improvements, three major security patches, and one complete pivot in corporate strategy. By the time New York's Department of Digital Oversight (or whatever agency gets this hot potato) receives the incident report, the company will have already:
1. Fixed the issue (maybe)
2. Released three new features that create entirely different issues
3. Launched a marketing campaign about how safe their AI is
4. Fired the safety team to cut costs

This is the fundamental disconnect between regulation and technology. Legislation moves at the speed of committee hearings and public comment periods. AI moves at the speed of "we just trained this model on every YouTube video ever uploaded and now it can recite the entire script of 'Bee Movie' in 14 different accents." Trying to regulate AI with traditional government processes is like trying to stop a tsunami with a neatly filled-out form in triplicate.

The Safety Protocol Theater

The requirement to publish safety protocols will create a beautiful new genre of corporate fiction. We'll see documents with titles like "Our Commitment to Ethical AI: A 150-Page PDF No One Will Read" filled with meaningless phrases like "human-centered design," "robust guardrails," and "continuous alignment." These protocols will be crafted by teams of lawyers and PR professionals, tested exactly once in a controlled environment that bears no resemblance to reality, and then promptly ignored when quarterly earnings are at stake.

The most entertaining part will be watching companies try to define what constitutes a "large AI developer." Expect every startup with more than two GPUs to suddenly rebrand as a "small, artisanal AI collective" while the giants like OpenAI and Google will argue their models are actually developed by "independent research units" that technically don't qualify. The regulatory arbitrage will be more creative than the AI itself.

The Precedent Nobody Asked For

Despite the inherent absurdity, the RAISE Act matters because it creates a precedent. Other states will likely follow with their own, conflicting regulations. California will require AI to report its carbon footprint and emotional state. Texas will mandate that all AI systems acknowledge that they were created in a state with no income tax. Florida will... actually, let's not give them ideas.

This patchwork of state regulations will create the compliance nightmare that every tech lobbyist warned about, which means we might actually get federal AI legislation before 2030. The industry would rather deal with one set of (probably watered-down) federal rules than 50 different state requirements. In that sense, Hochul might have just done the impossible: scared Silicon Valley into wanting federal oversight.