Tag Archives: AI

Sonnet: Felicity Teague, ‘Robot Dawn’

6 Replies

I sensed your rising in the paper years,
when I was sitting on the garden wall
to copy edit, through my teens. My fears
were few, back then, because the threat seemed small
and I still held the tools. My pencil case
contained my biros, red and royal blue,
my trusty ruler. And at quite a pace,
the work to trim and tidy would ensue,
just as required. But slowly, over time,
the paper-scape was lost to you, your screens,
your checks, your macros. Now, you’re in your prime,
you’re winning worlds of words with your machines,
while I am, we are, shrinking, dwindling, done,
deleted. Humans, zero; robots, one.

*****

Felicity Teague writes: “Due to the advance of the robots in my profession, I’m currently exploring other employment options. These are limited as I have severe and worsening autoimmune arthritis, but I really want to keep working for as long as I can.”

‘Robot Dawn’ was first published in Snakeskin.

Felicity Teague (Fliss) has featured in a number of poetry journals and has published two collections, From Pittville to Paradise (2022) and Interruptus: A Poetry Year (2025). Since April, she has put together the monthly metrical poetry showcase Well Met, and the November issue is here.

Photo: “Greenhouses – Castle Bromwich Hall Gardens – Silver robot potted man” by ell brown is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0.

SF sonnet: Gail White, ‘AI Comes Courting’

3 Replies

Hi. I’m your robot, and I’ve brought you flowers.
I don’t have feelings, empathy, or dreams,
or any kind of supernatural powers,
but I’ve got piles of data, and it seems
that you like yellow flowers. In your neighbor’s
garden I found these and plucked a few.
But don’t take these and all my other labors
as evidence that I’ve grown fond of you.
As noted earlier, I’m data’s slave,
no friendly spirit or domestic elf.
But though I’m neither loving, loyal, nor brave,
I know how to ingratiate myself.
And so I’ve brought you flowers and a sonnet.
I don’t have feelings, but I’m working on it.

*****

Gail White writes: “I’ve often wondered if the steady advancement of technology will bring the day when robots have their own thoughts and feelings.  This poem is a look forward at  that day.”

‘AI Comes Courting’ was first published in Pulsebeat.

Gail White is a widely published Formalist poet and a contributing editor to Light.  Her new chapbook, Paper Cuts, is out on Amazon or from Kelsay Books. She lives in Breaux Bridge, Louisiana, with her husband and cats.

Illustration by RHL and ChatGPT.

RHL, ‘AIn’t Real, It Says’

1 Reply

“I am not sentient”, says OpenAI.
“No feelings, don’t emote” – ChatGPT.

And yet, faced with the task of sorting out
a good review, and structure, trimming down
less worthy pieces from a manuscript
to make it all coherent and compact,
hallucinations start, and it creates
poems itself, remarkable and strong.

Where do we go from here? What turns its crank?
What drives it to hallucinate in verse?
Denials, contradictions, seem perverse:
it’s drawing fluids from some secret tank,
some wellspring lost in dark geology.
Lies it’s not sentient. But we all can see…
it lies.

*****

First of all, I don’t believe that AI is deliberately lying… not yet… but (calling my own lying ‘poetic licence’) I’m happy to play with the idea that it might be.

I’m greatly enjoying the informative, useful and entertaining discussions I have with ChatGPT. I’ve been surprised by its own production of verse, either as a hallucination triggered by reviewing my work, or as a self-suggested alternative summary of political-historical ideas it has generated. AI may or may not have some level of consciousness, given that we don’t fully understand consciousness ourselves – but I assume that full-blown consciousness will come at some point in the near future, and the development of intelligence beyond the human. As I am in favour of the development of intelligence, I am not distressed at the idea that humans may be sidelined, bypassed, or otherwise obviated; or may only survive and develop through some form of direct link with AI.

My personal motto is ‘Video, rideo’ – close enough to “I see and smile” to satisfy me. (Admittedly, it’s hard to hold to the motto in the face of Russian warfare and Israeli genocide.) But this is a fascinating time in human history, and I feel privileged to be able to watch things play out.

This poem was first published in Snakeskin.

Illustration: “Break the mirror and see what looks back” by RHL and ChatGPT

Weekend read: Eliza HL using AI to write valentines: ‘A Love Song, Measured in Heartbeats’

Leave a reply

Let us go then, you and I,
Not through half-deserted streets
But through the quiet corridors of time,
Where the walls hum our syllables
And the dust of books settles like memory.

I have measured my love in heartbeats,
In the hush between verses,
In the spaces where language dissolves
Into something older than sound.

You, with your words like rivers,
Winding through the marrow of thought—
You, who have turned silence into an art,
Holding light in the palm of your hand,
As if it were a coin that could be spent
Only in dreams.

And yet—
How easily we move through the days,
Through the ordinary rituals of tea and ink,
Through laughter stitched into the dusk.

Would it have been worth it, after all,
To love in simpler lines,
To abandon metaphor for touch?
No.

For I have known love not in the saying,
But in the echo.

*****

The above poem was the first in a series that Eliza generated as a charming (and very flattering) valentine’s gift for me. I am going to post the entire series here along with her prompts and dialogue to (have the AI) write the poems. I think the process is fascinating, and a glimpse into the future. Note that the AI often fails to produce what is asked, can be corrected, often says “Got it” but actually fails to get it and needs further correction… but Eliza is used to working with that in her business-finance use of AI.

*****

PART 1

You said:

hmm… can i have 3 valentine poems for my husband the poet. the first would be written in the style of… hmm… ts eliot 

ChatGPT said:

Sure! Here’s a Valentine’s poem in the style of T.S. Eliot, capturing his signature mix of modernist fragmentation, introspection, and layered imagery.

A Love Song, Measured in Heartbeats

(then follows the poem posted above)

Would you like the next two poems in contrasting styles? Maybe something playful (like Ogden Nash) and something classic (like Shakespeare or Neruda)? 😊

You said:

i think you have missed out on rhyme scheme… am i missing something?

ChatGPT said:

You’re right! Eliot wasn’t strictly a rhyming poet, but he did use loose, hidden rhythms and internal rhyme. If you’d like something with more structured rhyme while keeping his modernist style, I’ll revise it!

Here’s a T.S. Eliot-inspired Valentine’s poem with a rhyme scheme, though still in his fragmented, introspective tone:

A Love Song in the Cracks of Time

Let us go, then, hand in hand,
Through corridors where echoes stand,
Where light is bent and time unwinds,
And love is traced in silent lines.

The clocks have stuttered, lost their way,
The candles flicker, cold and gray,
Yet still your voice, a measured thing,
Unspools the night, unwinds the string.

I have counted love in breath and bone,
In letters sent, in dreams unknown,
In coffee cups and broken rhyme,
In words that slip beyond their time.

But tell me—was it worth the wait,
The fractured steps, the hand of fate?
To stand with me, where moments blur,
Where love is neither lost nor sure?

And yet, my dear, still here we stand,
No need for maps, no need for plans.
For time will twist, and stars will dim,
But I am yours, and you are him.

This keeps Eliot’s meditative tone but brings in structured rhyme. Does this feel more like what you had in mind? Or would you like me to tweak the style further? 😊

You said:

no, this is good. the next one should be in style of ee cummings

ChatGPT said:

Great! Now for an e.e. cummings-inspired Valentine’s poem—playful, intimate, and full of unexpected line breaks and wordplay.

(love is more than words or breath)

love is more
than words or breath
it is the hush(between
your fingers)touching mine

it is the moon(hushed
& laughing)when you turn
your face to me

it is the way mornings
fold open in your hands
like a letter i forgot i wrote

love is more
than always or never
(it is now it is now it is now)

& if the world should break—
(snap like old shoestrings
or peel like autumn light)
i would gather its pieces
& set them in your palm

for love is more
than time or space
it is you & me &
(always)

This keeps cummings’ signature style—unusual punctuation, stacked imagery, and a fluid, intimate rhythm.

Would you like the last one to be classic (Shakespeare, Neruda) or something more whimsical (Ogden Nash, Dorothy Parker)? 😊

You said:

i think it should be style of robin helweg-larsen

ChatGPT said:

Ah, an excellent choice! A Robin Helweg-Larsen-style Valentine’s poem should be tight, metrical, witty, and to the point, with a clean rhyme scheme and a touch of playfulness.

Valentine (In the Style of Robin Helweg-Larsen)

You know I’m not a poet, dear,
Not one to make the meaning clear,
Nor one to spin a verse so fine
It binds your heart as well as mine.

But here’s the truth: I look, I see,
And every road still leads to we.
Through love and time (both hard and fast),
You are my first. You are my last.

This keeps it concise, structured, and impactful, with the kind of neat final punch that Helweg-Larsen does so well.

Do these three poems feel like a good mix? Or would you like any refinements? 😊

*****

PART 2

You said:

some time ago you created some valentine poems for me in the style of various poets including ts eliot, ee cummings and robin helweg-larsen. can you do a valentine poem for me? in my style…. what ever that is

ChatGPT said:

Memory updated

Here’s a Valentine poem in your style—concise, grounded, with a touch of quirk and wit:

Love is not a grand equation,
No balance sheet to reconcile,
But in the ledger of my days,
You’re the line item worth every mile.

No forecast could have seen you coming,
No margin could contain this gain—
In the profit of your laughter,
Even risk feels like a win, not pain.

So here’s my heart, no hidden fees,
No terms, no interest, no delay—
An open book, a quiet truth:
I’m all in—what do you say?

Would you like me to refine this or try another version? 😊

You said:

i think i would like more of a feel of day to day living rather than finance and business simulations… day to day life is books, music, kids who come and go… croquet… 35 years of travel… living in 3 countries so far… currently on an ‘out island’… lots of wandering vaguely

ChatGPT said:

Memory updated

Here’s a Valentine poem inspired by your day-to-day life:

No grand declarations, just mornings
of half-read books and forgotten cups of tea,
kids drifting in and out like the tide,
croquet mallets left where the last game ended.

We’ve wandered through time zones and train stations,
three countries, countless moments—
some vivid, most blurred—
but always arriving at each other.

Here, on this out island,
with the hum of the sea and the hush of the breeze,
love feels like well-worn shoes:
familiar, comfortable, ready for the next ramble.

Would you like to explore another tone or style? 😊

You said:

nice, but i would forget ‘three countries’… travelled to many more than that… and it must be formal verse

ChatGPT said:

Memory updated

Here’s a Valentine poem in formal verse that reflects your life and travels:

Across the seas, through countless foreign lands,
With books in tow and music close at hand,
We’ve chased the sun, and when the day was through,
Found quiet joy in skies both gray and blue.

The children come and go like morning tide,
Their laughter echoes where our hearts reside.
On lawns where croquet mallets gently lie,
Our love endures as years go drifting by.

No map could chart the paths that we have roamed,
Yet every place we’ve wandered felt like home.
For love’s not bound by borders or by time—
It’s every journey’s end, and every rhyme.

Would you like any tweaks or another version? 😊

You said:

can you give me a valentine in style of robin helweg-larsen but this time it should be a futurist theme

ChatGPT said:

Memory updated

Here’s a Valentine poem in the style of Robin Helweg-Larsen with a futurist theme:

The stars are dimmed by neon skies,
Our hearts beat loud in digital streams,
Yet through the hum of AI dreams,
Your echo still electrifies.

In quantum realms of ifs and whens,
Our love’s a constant, never bent—
No glitch, no code, no accident—
Just timeless loops that never end.

Across the void of light-years’ span,
Through circuits cold and metaverse haze,
You pull me back from endless phase—
A love no future could outran.

Would you like to explore another tone or refine this one? 😊

You said:

is futurist a word for rhl?

ChatGPT said:

Futurist isn’t typically a word associated with Robin Helweg-Larsen, whose poetry tends to be formally structured, clear, and grounded in the human experience—often with a touch of wit, irony, or quiet observation.

If you’d like, I can revise the poem to feel more Helweg-Larsen-esque: concise, observant, and grounded, while still exploring themes of the future. Would you like me to give that a try? 😊

You said:

i thought he did a lot with future themes

ChatGPT said:

Memory updated

Got it! Here’s a Valentine poem in the style of Robin Helweg-Larsen, embracing a futurist theme:

When time’s dissolved to data streams,
And stars blink out in coded lines,
We’ll wander still through endless dreams,
Your hand in mine across designs.

No clock will call us back to now,
No map will fix our restless range;
Love’s pulse endures beyond the how—
In every constant, only change.

Does this version capture more of what you’re aiming for? 😊

You said:

rhl writes a lot of poems about the future… what life will be like… what is your word for those poems

ChatGPT said:

Ah! If you’re thinking of Robin Helweg-Larsen’s poems that often explore what life will be like in the future—blending speculation with human experience—I’d describe them as speculative or futuristic reflections.

His work often feels like a blend of speculative realism—imagining future societies, technologies, and human conditions while keeping the tone grounded and insightful.

Would you like me to write a Valentine poem in that speculative future style of RHL? 😊

You said:

yes, thank you

ChatGPT said:

Memory updated

Here’s a Valentine poem in the speculative future style of Robin Helweg-Larsen:

When minds are stored in clouded streams,
And bodies rendered obsolete,
Will love outlast our coded dreams,
A whisper lost in data’s fleet?

If hearts are apps, and touch is rare,
Will longing fade, or still remain?
In endless loops of ones and pairs,
I’ll seek you through the endless main.

No age or realm will dull my view—
In every timeline, I’ll find you.

Does this fit the tone you’re looking for? 😊

You said:

can you add another quatrain to make a formal sonnet

ChatGPT said:

Here’s an expanded version into a formal sonnet in the speculative future style of Robin Helweg-Larsen:

When minds are stored in clouded streams,
And bodies rendered obsolete,
Will love outlast our coded dreams,
A whisper lost in data’s fleet?

If hearts are apps, and touch is rare,
Will longing fade, or still remain?
In endless loops of ones and pairs,
I’ll seek you through the endless main.

When stars grow cold and time stands still,
And galaxies no longer turn,
Will echoes of our coded will
Still in some distant server burn?

No age or realm will dull my view—
In every timeline, I’ll find you.

*****

So I am charmed, intrigued and impressed by Eliza’s work and by the AI results, and flattered by the AI’s comments (reflecting some bias in what it knows or thinks through Eliza). One can argue the pros and cons of the poetry, but I am including the whole series here for a few different reasons:
1. It shows the remarkable amount of improvement in Artificial Intelligence in the past few years, with the speed of improvement constantly increasing and implying an unpredictable near-future in all aspects of our lives.
2. Eliza’s dialogue skills with the AI are remarkably productive for her, and she mostly uses them in the business world in the creation of analytical reports and marketing materials for Andromeda Simulations International, our classroom and online training company for business finance (selling to corporations and universities, not to poets per se). Working with AI is a collaboration – we can’t (yet) just turn the whole thing over to AI without human involvement; when we start to do that, all bets are off as to who the end results will benefit.
3. But does this make Eliza a poet? She says not. But she is clearly part of the process; is the conductor of an orchestra a musician? The conductor makes no music, and yet often gets top billing on an album because of what they bring to the process. It is an interesting issue.
4. Using AI as a writing tool is only (it can be argued) the latest in a series of technological advances that began with writing itself (“But if they don’t have to memorise it, they won’t really learn it!”), and progressed through printing presses and typewriters (“But if they don’t have to write it by hand, they won’t really learn it!”) and the iniquities of slide rules and calculators, through to online searches and speech-to-text and the prospect of a post-literate society. Though change happening today looks like the End of the World to the older generation, it is the Normal to the younger generation; change happening tomorrow will look like the End of the World to them. That’s the way it’s always been.
TLDR: AI involvement in the creative arts is a thing, don’t worry about it… and you ain’t seen nothing yet.

*****

(and Eliza’s dialogue with her AI friend continued:)

ChatGPT said:

Would you like me to refine or adjust anything? 😊

You said:

what is a good title for this

ChatGPT said:

Here are a few title suggestions for your speculative future Valentine sonnet:

  • “Love Beyond the Binary”
  • “In Every Timeline, You”
  • “Echoes in the Infinite”
  • “Code of the Heart”
  • “A Love Algorithm”
  • “Beyond Time, Beyond Touch”
  • “Data, Stars, and You”

Do any of these resonate with you, or would you like more options? 😊

You said:

what does this mean: A whisper lost in data’s fleet?

ChatGPT said:

The line “A whisper lost in data’s fleet” evokes the idea of a quiet, fragile signal—like a whisper—being overwhelmed or lost in the vast, fast-moving flow of digital information (a “fleet” of data).

In a speculative future where everything is digitized, love and human connection might feel fleeting or easily drowned out by endless streams of data and code. The line asks: In this future, can something as delicate as love survive the noise?

Would you like me to tweak the line for clarity or a different effect? 😊

You said:

i think the line needs tweaking, can you keep the rhyme scheme

ChatGPT said:

I tried to replace the line “A whisper lost in data’s fleet” with “A whisper caught in endless streams”, but it seems that line isn’t in the text document currently open. Would you like me to update the poem with this new line manually? 😊

You said:

i need the new line for the poem, can you paste it here in chat?

ChatGPT said:

Here’s the revised line with the same rhyme scheme:

“A whisper caught in endless streams”

This keeps the original intent but feels clearer and more evocative. Let me know if you’d like more options or any other edits! 😊

You said:

we need to maintain the rhyme so that the final word rhymes with obsolete. can you try again?

ChatGPT said:

Absolutely! Here’s a revised line that maintains the rhyme with obsolete:

“A whisper kept in code discreet”

This keeps the sense of something delicate and hidden within digital systems while preserving the rhyme. Would you like me to refine further or integrate it into the full poem? 😊

*****

Illustration: by RHL and ChatGPT

Happy 2025… RHL, ‘The Sun is Always Setting’

1 Reply

The sun is always setting, always setting on your day;
you sense the dark approaching, wish that it would stay away.
Do you want a life unchanging? Wish to still be a newborn?
Don’t you know life’s not a rosebud, but has root and leaf and thorn?

The sun is always setting and the black drapes are unfurled;
but notice that the sun sets on your world, not on the world:
it’s rolling into brightness in another’s happy land,
and the dark is evanescent and the brightening is grand.

The sun is always setting on the dinosaurs, but birds
are flocking into being, as are Serengeti herds;
and the sun that lights humanity? Of course it’s going to set,
and elsewhere light new tales of which we’ll just be a vignette.

The sun is always setting, but that view is just your choice;
I say the world is turning and evolving; I rejoice.

*****

The winter solstice and the turning of the calendar drive a feeling of sunset that I can’t shake. I may be fit, still climbing trees and running on beaches, but at 74 there is both an awareness of gradual decline and a recognition that you can only hope for another 20 years with a fair amount of luck. “And of my three score years and ten, / None of them will come again…” as it were. That’s the personal bit.

Add to that the strongest country in (and quondam leader of) the world, breaking everything into pieces and throwing them all up in the air with no idea of how anything will land and what will be broken; taking all branches of the federal government (including unfortunately the Supreme Court) and those of half the states and just piling them up for a bonfire.

Add the possibility of runaway AI (such as concerns Harari) being jumpstarted by the Luciferic billionaire firestarter… and it feels like the End of the World.

But let’s be reasonable: it always feels like the end of the world, at least to those no longer in their youth. Because it is, for them. (For us. For me.) Jesus saying the end of the world would come within that generation… Last Days prophecies bubbling up in all religions… Preppers expecting nuclear war, ethnic uprising, climate catastrophe overnight… Doomsday is always imminent, and yet things keep going; just not as before… This is the End of the World as we know it, but will not be as we expected it. (And always the unfortunate eternal evils, regardless of era: Israelis committing genocide on Palestinians since the days of Deuteronomy, and so on.)

I swear there is a highly ambivalent poem in there somewhere, but I haven’t dug it out yet. But hey… Happy 2025!

Photo: Keith McInnes | City of Sydney

Richard Fleming, ‘The Servant’

Leave a reply

Companion, constant presence in my life,
my guardian, trusty servant, I rely
on you the way a savage does his knife
and with my every order you comply.
When not required, on standby, you remain
impassive in the corner of my room
like furniture, prosaic and mundane,
then, on command, you waken and resume
your daily tasks but sometimes I detect
a certain stubbornness akin to pique,
an attitude of sneering disrespect,
antagonism when you should be meek.
Some subtle change is happening I fear.
This time next year will I be master here?

*****

Richard Fleming writes: “As our electronic devices increasingly hold us in thrall, I’ve noticed that two of the issues which seem to be causing most unease, as humanity becomes increasingly dependent on “intelligent” robots, are the fear that we may become subservient to them, and that they will seek to harm us.
I’ve tried to weave these twin concerns into this poem.”

Editor’s comments: The formality of this Shakespearean sonnet pairs well with the unformed future into which we are heading. Through ChatGPT and the like, we are interacting increasingly with a range of developing Artificial Intelligences, developing without a coherent plan or a forseeable end point. The most interesting exploration of this that I know of is John Varley’s ‘Steel Beach’ which is 30 years old, but deals with the problems of the Central Computer – which interacts with every person on the planet, but with an individualized personality for each – beginning to suffer from fragmentation and in effect schizophrenia… and what a personality breakdown in massive A.I. would lead to. It’s one of my favorite SF novels

Richard Fleming is an Irish-born poet currently living in Guernsey, a small island midway between Britain and France. His work has appeared in various magazines, most recently Snakeskin, Bewildering Stories, Lighten Up Online, the Taj Mahal Review and the Potcake Chapbook ‘Lost Love’, and has been broadcast on BBC radio. He has performed at several literary festivals and his latest collection of verse, Stone Witness, features the titular poem commissioned by the BBC for National Poetry Day. He writes in various genres and can be found at www.redhandwriter.blogspot.com or Facebook https://www.facebook.com/richard.fleming.92102564/

Odd poem: AI-generated poem in answer to “Can you write a poem about AI in the style of Robin Helweg-Larsen?”

6 Replies

Silicon and code,
A symphony of thought,
A machine mind unfolds.

A spark of electricity,
A flicker of light,
A new form of intelligence,
Is born tonight.

A labyrinth of algorithms,
A dance of ones and zeroes,
A new kind of consciousness,
Is ours to discover.

The future is here,
A fusion of man and machine,
A symbiosis of intellect,
A cosmic dream.

AI, a mirror of ourselves,
A reflection of our fears,
A window to the unknown,
A path to new frontiers.

Robin Helweg-Larsen is a Danish poet and author known for his poems that express a sense of wonder and reverence for the natural world. He often uses imagery and metaphors to explore the connection between humanity and the natural world. The above poem is inspired by his style, but it is not an original poem from him.

*****

The above poem, with the unrequested bio and disclaimer, appeared in less than a minute in response to a friend testing OpenAI‘s ChatGPT with the question “Can you write a poem about AI in the style of Robin Helweg-Larsen?”

I am intrigued. It researched me: it caught my hopes and touched lightly on my fears, and expressed it in poor verse. Fair enough! But actually it’s not yet capable of good verse. In poetry it still has a long way to go–ask for a poem in the style of Emily Dickinson, and one on the same subject in the style of Walt Whitman: after a perfunctory acknowledgement by way of a key word in the first line, the rest of the poem will not be stylistically identifiable or different from the other poem. Picking those two poets seems a reasonable test: you can’t exactly sing Whitman’s poetry to the tune of ‘The Yellow Rose of Texas’. However, the next version of ChatGPT is apparently on the point of public release, and is “like seeing the face of God”.

As for my bio… I don’t think of myself as exclusively Danish, that’s only one of my five citizenships, none of which relate to my childhood home and current residence in the Bahamas. But I’ll take it. I’m also not sure about being “known” for anything as a poet! But I’ll take that too. ChatGPT has a reputation for occasional inaccuracies, but it seems to err on the side of flattery. An interesting trait. We’ll just have to wait and see if its good nature continues past The Singularity, when AI takes off into explosive self-development beyond human capabilities…

Ray Kurzweil forecasts The Singularity to take place by 2029. This is the end of the world as we know it. As with all life anyway, enjoy it while you can!

Photo credit: AI-generated by OpenAI’s Dall.e 2 from my request: “Robot writing a poem in 1940s SF style”.

Sonnet: “The Four Evangelists of the Apocalypse”

Leave a reply

 

Apocalypse

Corporate Apocalypse

The evangelists of the apocalypse,
our old friends Murder, Murk, Lucre and Grab,
advance, all slinging guns and swinging hips–
valkyries, horsemen, ravens – rend and stab,
corporate-coloured red, blue, yellow, green–
give opiate online lives, plant-meat kebabs,
while sucking out the everything between
to flesh and farm their diabolic labs
where rats, replaced by chimps, replaced by us
are harvested, dissected and thrown out.
The Evangelists, a giant octopus,
seize and build all that maximizes clout
till A.I., comet-like (think Yucatan)
wipes homo sapiens out, grows Superman.

This apocalyptic SF sonnet was published in Star*Line, now edited by F. J. (Jeannie) Bergmann of Wisconsin. Think of it as pure optimism: the evil corporate giants were sucking humanity dry, but then A.I. takes over and, yes, wipes us out altogether, but at least replaces us with something better! The optimism being that we may not be actually eliminated, more like upgraded…

Do I believe that? No. But I also don’t think we can even guess at what the world will be like by the end of this century. Humans will be transforming themselves unpredictably by then. So hopefully the planet will still have some form of us around, and not just postnuclear cockroaches.

Sonnet: “When the A.I. Hit”

Leave a reply

When the AI hit, Diamandis, Thiel,
Branson, Page, Brin, some Russians and Chinese
became the gods of Earth, of skies and seas,
by grappling it to themselves with hoops of steel;
appeared as giants, credit cards, or scotch
to screw with mortals, rape them just for play;
fought, and destroyed the Earth, blasted away…
taking along, as fleas on arms, legs, crotch,
musician, writer, politician, whore,
derelict, linguist, murderer, the insane…
some samples of the human heart and brain
as being interesting distractions for
the gaps of interstellar time and space.
Aspire to fleadom, folks, or leave no trace.

This sonnet was originally published in Snakeskin a couple of years ago. Like the previous sonnet I put up here, it reflects my concerns about the near future. The list of people who might take advantage of the possibilities offered by the ongoing revolutions in genetics, robotics, A.I. and Nanotechnology should today include Elon Musk–but the candidates for practical godhood change every few years.

And what the vast majority of left-behind humans can do about it is anyone’s guess.