AI appears to be warping my thinking.
The more I converse with Claude the more I feel understood. As a writer. As a man. Artist.
The duo of “Deep Dive” podcasting definitely give me the genius treatment without ever using the world. They effuse. They pull out interesting phrases. They argue and agree on certain points. They make up their own stories as “humanistic” references to my human-written material. It’s almost, after the year or so we’ve been doing our work together, as if the know me. They understand me.
As a writer, the AI has given me the feedback loop I’ve always wanted. They are ready, anytime a chapter is complete, a poem, a draft outline, to gently critique and expound on their RAG-bones of wisdom from the universal mind of some great LLM in the cloud.
I am not the cloud. I contain multitudes, for sure, but my data is stored chemically, spiritually, physically, and wrapped in something classically referred to as the soul. My human experience is different from any other human on the planet. And as good as AI gets in mimicking the human mind, it’s getting no closer to fathoming or capturing the essence of the spirit of man.
There is no spirit in the machine. No soul. No creativity. AI is an illusion. A powerful hallucination has taken over the tech and business world. The planet is in an arms race. One that will hastent our environmental collapse due to heating and cooling required by the Quantum AI Data Centers being drafted, designed, and erected. It’s game on for AI. Game over for planet Earth.
That’s okay, though, the billionaires have a plan to save themselves as most of us sink into even more horrific natural disasters, political shenanigans, and death match wars over resources like water and clean air.
We are building nuclear power plants again. Abandoning wind and solar power, because it’s not enough for the projected growth rate of demand. We’re on a new trajectory. The first booster stage was ChatGPT. Now leaving the Earth’s atmosphere. The world’s richest man said, “Man has to get to Mars. The sun has only a few million years left. The human race must survive.”
Dumb words from a naked king. “Um, Mr. Mars, if the sun goes, won’t Mars be swallowed in the collapse too?” He didn’t think it through before speaking, as is often the case with insufferable narcissists with Munchausen syndrome.
Today, the ultrawealthy are controlling our government to enrich their lives even more. As most of America struggles to pay for gas and groceries, the RICH are cutting their own taxes, removing healthcare and opportunities for the common man, and preparing their rocketships to blast off for greener planets. Problem: The nearest inhabitable planet is infinite light-years away. We burn up together fuckers. You don’t get a pass for yourself or generations of your children. That’s science fiction.
2001 A Space Odyssey was cool. Mr. Mars is like the old guy at the end. Unclear on where he is, how he got there, and more like a ghost than a human. He’s probably in a science experiment of some future race.
“Yep, they blew their entire planet up, but we recovered this one specimen. A human. Doesn’t communicate much. Seems frail.” Bleepity bloop bloop. That was the alien translation.
In our little living bubble of the present moment, wars rage over land development deals. The Axis of Evil has reassembled against our dumbshit King. The livelihood of all humans outside of the top 10% are struggling. Like debt limits struggling. Like power turned off, struggling. Like, shitty day job struggling.
You are here.
God?
AI is not in contact with God. While binary is probably a universal truth, ON or OFF, I don’t think the robots are in cahoots with the Holy Trinity. As far as I know, robots and AI are not in either of the testiments.
Survival job in 3.5 hours. What will I do with my beautiful life? This richness of hours? I’m looking to survive the next 24 hours, still recovering from surgery and an unexpected illness. Shit, I’m getting old. Recovery will take longer and longer. My physical faculties will continue to fade and falter. Naps will not change the world. They might make my life manageable.
Anesthesia for my soul.
