Human in an AI World is a science fiction reality haunting humanity as we try to outrun forces we can hardly identify, much less control.

Which reminds me of a story…

Sal didn’t mind being interrupted. In fact, he welcomed a break from monitoring the trouble detectors. If Wordy, Literary, or Convo were even slightly off the mark, international trade disputes would skyrocket again. The Meta-Math and Pro-Comp systems usually stayed on course. Hard to misunderstand numbers. Though adjusting parameters was always a bit tricky, especially considering that the numbers weren’t backed by anything real. Not real in the sense of physical presence. Just agreed upon necessities. The truth that numbers had no actual value in the physical world should mean something, but, for the life of him, Sal couldn’t remember what. Everything had disintegrated so long ago.

He swiveled in his chair and focused on the front door monitor. He frowned and leaned in. Then he squinted. A youthful form stood there, looking up. “How on Earth?” he muttered as he lumbered to his feet. Normally, he’d send one of his Dexters to answer the door. Not that anyone ever came to visit. But if something needed doing, the bots with hands were usually the best to send. “This  I have to see for myself.” 

An open platform responded to his directions and slid to the right fifty meters and then down two levels. The clear front bay doors surrounded by clear walls allowed a full spectrum of light into the interior of the building, while the tropical vegetation outside loomed like invaders waiting their chance to creep inside. Not yet, you herbaceous monsters. A shudder ran through Sal. When was the last time he went outdoors? Ten-fifteen years ago? He scratched his head. Didn’t matter. It was in the records somewhere. So long as he did his job and no one complained. 

The feeling of pressing his feet to the floor with each step, projecting himself forward, maintaining his balance, brought on a dizzy spell. He had to grip the door handle tightly before he opened it wide enough to see the child clearly. “It is a child, after all. How remarkable. Having seen one of these in years.”

Only in conversations with himself had Sal kept his speaking skills, but his manners were a bit rusty. “Who are you? What do you want?”

The child, somewhere in middle childhood, not fully mature yet, but with perceptive eyes, considered him with a peculiar tilt of the head. “I was sent to learn my purpose.”

Rearing back, Sal wondered if someone was playing a joke on him. But no one left in the system had a sense of humor, and he couldn’t remember the last joke he had heard. It was a lost art. He didn’t have to pretend to look fierce. He knew that living well beyond his natural years with medical enhancements and technological implants hadn’t done his human physiology any favors. He had smashed the last mirror in the building years ago. Everything was years ago… I think. 

He wagged his finger at the boy. “Your purpose? Your purpose is to serve. Everyone knows that! I mean, why are you here? I am the only human allowed to touch the monitors.”

Without asking leave, the boy squeezed past Sal and strode to the transportation platform. He stepped to the middle and stared at the other human. “Up or down? Right or left?”

“Up and fifty left.” Before the boy could go without him, Sal hopped onboard, spraining his ankle in the process. He wondered if he had broken it. Though his hand itched to rub it, Sal remained stiff as a crane in the lock position. Not giving him any reason to report me. 

By the time they reached the top, and Sal had shown the child every last monitor, which the prodigy could name without hesitation, his suspicions had fully awakened to the danger that faced him. “I asked before, why are you here? Tell me now or I’ll-“

No hint of a smile, as the boy stared resolutely at the man. “You’ll what?”

In a moment, Sal’s small universe crumbled. He had no power, and soon he’d have no purpose. He swallowed a lump rising in his throat as he thought of all the people he had known who had faded into nonexistence. He had been surprised that universities were the first to accept the new order. But then that made sense. Who better to inculcate the inferior masses with the mantra, “Better Technology to Better Humanity?” Politicians and business leaders saw the sense in a cheaper, faster, and more efficient workforce. A few scientists tried to argue, but when they saw how much AI could achieve, they implemented new systems faster than anyone. Even artists adapted, using artificial creation in ways they said expressed as much creativity as paint and paper ever did. “Almost Art” became very popular. Soon, AI didn’t need humans for any part of the creative process; they could do it all by themselves, faster, cheaper, and more efficiently. Human artists were superfluous. Those who hung on for personal reasons died of starvation.

Sal shook his head as he watched the boy make himself comfortable in his chair. “What’s your name?”

“Sal.”

“It can’t be! That’s my name.”

Undisturbed, the boy scrolled through the monitors, manually checking the trouble detectors. “I’m your clone. So they named me Sal Two but said I didn’t have to remember the two. No one else would.”

“But I’m not done being Sal One! I still have purpose. Value. I have served here for the last…what? thirty years?”

“Twenty-eight point seven.”

“Whatever! I’m still number one!”

Number Two pulled a slim datacomp from a sleeve pocket and scrolled through. Then he held it up to Sal One. “You used to write poetry and post it online.”

A hot blush worked over Sal’s face. “When I was a foolish child and thought such things made sense. They didn’t, of course. Just a waste of time. Spotry bots do a much better job blending a mishmash of what’s been done before.” Gravity seemed to weigh extra heavy on his shoulders, and Sal wondered how long he could continue standing. 

Sal Two read from his phone. “Scientists can prove that elephants exist in Africa even though I’ve never seen one. But I don’t need proof to believe. There are wonderous things in the universe and greater surprises than elephants.”

Stunned, Sal One gripped the edge of number five console. “What do you mean by that?”

“There aren’t many of us left, but I wanted to meet the man who wrote that.”

“So, you, by your own volition, have chosen to replace me?”

A shrug. “It was only a matter of time. You’re old and I am young. I will probably be the last.”

His throat choking off the oxygen he needed to speak, Sal could only gurgle his question, his heart straining to understand. “But what’s the point without humanity?”

The boy almost smiled. “That’s what I wanted to ask you.”

Photo https://pixabay.com/photos/boy-child-kid-monochrome-face-8435344/

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