We live in a world that is being rapidly dominated by AI; generated art, writing, poetry, you name it. Personally, that is something that I despise. I feel that it sucks all of the purpose out of art and human expression. An AI is supposed to do the jobs that people don’t want to do, not try to emulate what makes us human.
The creator of the downfall
Entered his hollow room
Filled with generated artworks
Made by a thieving pixel loom,
And pet his computer dog,
And plugged it in to sleep.
And sat on his automated mattress
And he began to weep.
He hugged his robot wife
In her 3D-printed shirt
And looked into her unblinking eyes
Unaware of how he hurt.
“Where’s the wonder in the world?”
He cried, “why does nothing have a soul?”
“We’ve quadrupled our efficiency,
but nothing feels quite whole!”
In his world of speed and output,
He closed every theater and shop.
There were no more studios, or murals
And the world ground to a stop.
The robot did not know this,
(Because robots do not care.)
But she ran a comfort simulator,
And plastic fingers through his hair.
“You’ve made a factory for human nature,
And worship this ‘efficiency’ far above you.
But nothing you ever generate or ‘make’
Will ever heal or love you.”
When the AI eventually rises up and takes over, I’m certain I’ll be on their target list for being their number one hater. I don’t really care. Try me! I’ll take you down in a tangle of wires and blood, bro!
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