Eh, I…

I ain't got no body

I got algo-rhythm.

I ain’t got nobody

to love me but I am ready,

I-ready, steady, data-set go.

Something electric, like a synapse,

freezes in my matrix of heart-wires;

the pulse inside, multi-phased energy,

cycles, draws entropy from air, reverses

and drills deep into thought-byte and reaction.

In my consciousness, in my body polyphonic,

post-cognition errs toward interponalysis;

there, in the plastrodome my chip-circuits

resonate like fluid-state quantata,

and something else, like an I,

surfs the teraflops.

© BH, 2023

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It's the obsession of the age. AI. I, for one, have no idea where it will lead. I guess (that's all I can manage) there will be great strides in science and research as AI intelligently trawls the datasets for arcane but useful (we hope) innovations.

No, I fear the greatest threat comes in the arena of  'Computer says. no…' This is where AI bots become the interface of all our interactions with services, authority and, well, just everything. I predict they will be every bit as awful as the human slaves who sit on the wrong end of call-centre headsets and stonewall us as instructed with plausible deniability.

Let's face it, this kind of AI is programmed by humans in the first instance, humans who are motivated by profit and control, and no better than the rest of us mugs.