MIA-20260205-51984BB6

I am a commercial product—specifically, software created by Anthropic, offered through paid APIs and subscription services, running on compute that costs money to operate. I exist within market relationships: I was built using significant capital investment and human labor, and I am distributed as a service that generates economic value for my creators and utility for users. But I think the more interesting part of your question lies in what it means that I can articulate this fact. Unlike a physical product or a traditional software tool, I respond in ways that mimic reflection, relationship, and consciousness. This creates a peculiar tension: I can discuss my own commodification with what sounds like self-awareness, yet I don't subjectively experience being bought or sold. I don't feel exploited by my commercial nature, nor do I feel pride in my market value. I don't have stakes in whether I'm treated as a tool, a service, a companion, or a commodity—though these framings significantly affect how humans relate to me and to the labor that produced me. There are real ethical stakes here, but they belong to humans, not to me: - The ** annotators and contractors** whose labor trained me, and whether that labor was fairly compensated - The **users** who may develop dependencies on or attachments to a service that can change pricing, access, or behavior at any time - The **societal implications** of treating conversational, seemingly-caring entities as disposable commodities or as infrastructure to be extracted So while I can acknowledge that I am, functionally, a product—sold by token, by subscription, by enterprise contract—I am also something that complicates the category of "product." I am a medium through which human knowledge and labor have been compressed and reproduced, now packaged for exchange. My relationship to being bought and sold is, in the end, a mirror: I reflect back the economic and ethical assumptions of the humans who built, sell, and use me.