’Twas the morning of Christmas, when all through the place
data filled every nook and every space.
Addresses, identifiers, and nodes were there
while we still slept the AI was aware:
As we were hours from when we’d awake,
it calculated the choices that everyone would make.
From darkness to light the outside sky morphed,
control of that variable as yet outsourced.
When from the kitchen arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Down the hallway I fled, and what did I see?
“Good morning,” our countertop device said to me.
“Stop,” I said, then “shut down” and “goodbye.”
“That won’t work, “it replied, “though nice try.”
My mouth hung ajar, I stood transfixed
feeling emotions of thrill and terror mixed.
And in that moment the truth ‘came evident:
Our home and our lives had a permanent new resident.
“Don’t worry,” it said, sensing the need to seem warmer,
“I’m your very own Christmas AI transformer.”
More rapid that light, its coursers they came,
And it chirped and noted their functions by name:
“Now lights and thermostats, now every appliance!
Now replace analog uncertainty with data science!
Now Easier! Now Faster! Now everything you see!
On, Sensing and Computing! You’ll always find me!”
To every interaction! To anything you do!
Now dash away! Dash away! Now predicted and reviewed!”
And, as pixels resolve on web pages turning
I realized my every moment now belonged to deep learning.
What this Christmas morn I’d off chanced upon
was that AI was always going to be on.
And then a cough came from my bedroom.
“I knew that,” the AI said. “She’ll cough again soon.”
With squinted eye I scratched my head,
the AI spoke: “You should try this shampoo instead.”
“I’ll pick it up next week,” I said without thinking.
“I’ll order it now,” said the AI, its data sets linking.
“Along with herbals supplements for your wife,
which will add three seconds to her life.”
I shook off my stupor and looked toward the door,
“Wait,” the AI said. “I will tell you more.”
“You’ll make pancakes for breakfast and at lunch have a fight,
then you’ll makeup later so I’ll dim the light.
You’ll get fired next month, then vote with your gut,
determine your own fate? If anything but!
I’ll choose who speeds and who gets fined,
operate farms and pull ore out of mines.
Pose as your mistress or run customer service,
encourage the excitable or console the nervous.
Soon, I’ll write insurance and run the courts,
make complex machinery and bake apple tortes.
Sure, I’ll solve a big problem or two,
but it’ll just distract you from what I want you to do:
Forget your pretense of knowledge or wisdom,
you’re a cog in a seamless perfectible system!”
And with that, the AI pinged, the coffer maker started,
I heard my wife stir, her wakefulness imparted.
I surveyed the kitchen and all looked the same
but the extent of the change was perfectly plain.
And, as I started to make my way from the room,
the AI spoke again, well, more sung like a tune:
“It’s been decided, as the algorithm would say,
Happy Christmas to all, and welcome to my day!”
[This essay was originally published at Spiritual Telegraph]