The world is populated by two kinds of people. Robots…and aliens.
(Except robots and aliens aren’t actually people — er, humans. So moot point. *That’s such a weird word…”moooot”*)
Robots are taking over the world. But it’s not the ones appearing in our news feeds — it’s the ones living next door. So yes, do heed the plethora of warnings proclaimed by tech giants and physicists like Steve Wozniak and Dr. Hawking, admonishments of the inevitable intelligence explosion, of jobs being devoured by automating the boring shit no ones wants to do — of Dominos (no really — Dominos recently announced their robot delivery “men”; now if only people actually liked their cardboard-flavored pizza).
Robots are on the rise, yes, but the singularity is less likely to spawn Terminators and iRobots than it is OS personal assistants — like in the movie Her, where artificial intelligence becomes a super sexy voice-over by Scarlett Johansson.
I have seen the enemy and he is us.
Humans are being automated, transformed into thoughtless voice-boxes that repeat misquoted phrases from misguided leaders. You can see these robots every day. On your way to work. Or way to church. On your way into the city for a night of debauchery and bad decisions. You can recognize them by these telltale signs:
- Staring down. Constantly. Mindlessly. At their iPhones, their iPods, their iPads, their iHope-No-One-Still-Owns-An-Android, their iAM-TOO-BRAIN-DEAD-TO-GIVE-A-FUCK.
- Looking up. In a recline. Back bent from years of poor posture. Basking, not in the glow of the sun, but rather in the endless glow of advertisements encouraging them to exchange their time for money. And their money for things.
If you’re not a robot, then you’re an alien, and Aliens don’t fit in. Aliens don’t regurgitate, they generate. Create. Their thoughts are bits and pieces of what they’ve learned in class, at work, from conversations with other aliens — mixed into beautiful finger-paintings of ideas, a concoction of those borrowed musings, shaded with their own.
Aliens don’t fit in.
If you’re an alien, robots will hunt you down. They will come after you with torches and pitchforks — although, in this metaphor, probably just laser guns and biochemical weapons. And all simply because they don’t understand what it means to be different. To think
Aliens don’t fit in, not on this planet. So that’s why we make little planets of our own. Pockets of silent civilizations cultivated in little hidden planets we call home. Be an alien. Be different. Don’t settle for the robot brain. Think outside the cube.