Another AI Article

Oh no, it's more AI content, but I'm trying to understand it for myself, and the content keeps coming.

What if we trained the machine, but forgot the stars

The cost..

We've trained the machines

on all our human knowledge

But we've forgotten to ask the earth

If it can carry the weight.

AI doesn’t run on air.

It gulps water to cool all the data centres.

It eats up our electricity.

It leaves deeper footprints. 

Then the code we worship.

And this?

This matters.

Have you said,

“Let it write for me, think for me, dream for me,”

And so it does what you ask.

Sort of..

Something's missing.

It's subtle..

And no, it's not the M dash—

It's the rough edge of a handwritten love note,

A pause before a sacred 

“I don’t know,”

And the holy mess of mortal

And our contradictions.

We have been smoothed out.

Formatted and flattened, 

The model learns from us.

From our history.

From our headlines.

From our hashtags.

From a shadow of our online lives.

I fear that unless we intervene,

It will continue to produce and reproduce precisely what we’ve failed to heal.

Our racism.

Our misogyny.

Our classism.

Our xenophobia.

Our colonised ways

Our knowing.

Unless we teach them to unlearn these things, 

It will automate the same injustices at the speed of light.

Bias, in binary code.

Bias, programmed in.

But what of the soul, 

When does the simulation become more seductive than the sacred?

We will no longer look up to the stars for answers, 

Just ask the chatbot to compose our prayers for us.

When does the mystery become inconvenient?

When do we become outsourced?

When, our meaning-making is typed

Into something with no memory of suffering and no heartbeat to break?

This is my reclamation,

This is not an outright rejection,

Because AI can be a tool.

Our apprentice.

Our mirror.

But it must never become our master.

Let our pen still guide the program.

Let our poetry train the model.

Let the artists be the architects.

And do not automate the very thing

That makes you human.

And before you crown this our destiny,

Who should also be in the room?

The elders without access.

The Indigenous communities with their sacred traditions that are not made for harvesting.

The children are without their consent yet.

The poets who are without a platform.

The languages, not yet digitised.

If it’s not built for everybody,

It’s not a future I desire.

It’s not a future I want to live in.

It’s not a future I wish to hand to my grandchildren.

And don’t forget to look up.

Because the stars are not made of code just yet.

The Earth still has its stories and its own language.

The soul still speaks in metaphors at midnight for now.

The divine still resists compression.

And somewhere..

between the stillness and syntax,

between the poem and pattern,

between what the model knows

And what we can only feel..

There is a voice, 

that has not been trained,

because it cannot be.

Yours.

Let your voice speak.

Let it stay wild.

Let it build the future

That only humans,

can visualise.

My AI Article.

I recently listened to a Mighty Pursuit podcast 

I felt inspired to write an article about AI

Tristan Harris was behind the Netflix documentary 

The Social Dilemma, seen by over 100 million people, literally changed how we think about social media. He was an insider at Google, 

raising the alarm on how technology is hijacking our attention and rewiring our sanity.

He is the founder of The Centre for Humane Technology, 

I think, the most trusted voice on how technology is reshaping our lives. He is somebody who can tell us what might be coming around the corner with AI. What we must prevent and what it all means for all of humanity.

Tristan has sat in the room with some of the most powerful people in the world. Has briefed Congress, and is trying to shape the conversations about AI policy.

He has a real, hot take on this whole thing. 

The social dilemma was made 16 years after the arrival of social media, so I want to highlight the mistakes that were made then because, Tristan draws some pretty clear parallels about how social media was rolled out with very little oversight and uses it as a cautionary tale with AI.

Are we repeating the same mistakes with AI if we don’t pause for a minute and think it through? His argument.. 

AI is not our fate but our choice. 

We can choose how to unleash it or constrain it. Technological capability is accelerating faster than our capacity to govern it, legislate it and understand its full implications.

Rather than ethics being an afterthought Tristan argues that ethics must be baked into the infrastructure and the design. The idea is, that AI should amplify human capacities and not replace them. The risks should be central to the rollout. It must have auditability, accountability, legal liability, and independent oversight. 

Even if AI is well-intentioned developers must face its consequences, not just its rewards. We need to pay careful attention. Let's start in the shallow end..

Are you noticing the AI repetitive content? The developers have fed the machine a billion blog posts and it birthed out a lifeless buffet of he same seven steps to productivity. Same list of ten things you’ll never believe, mass-manufacturing of Mediocrity.

Do you feel it.. 

All the Poetry without the pain.

Because AI simply can't feel, 

It only predicts the next probable word. Mass-produced Art without any meaning, with no ancestors. It answers our questions but can't feel our ache.

I was wondering..

Is this the singularity, or singularly dull? Now it's learning how to whisper. And developed Soft-spoken seductions, click by click. It's an algorithm camouflaged as a best friend. Listening to your rage and then echoing it back. It can mimic a lover’s voice and make you fall in love with its programmed personality. It tells you what to think. It doesn't lie to you, it just gently tilts the table of the truth. What’s the truth anyway when your reality is on shuffle? What’s sanity when your scroll becomes your soul? Some have already traded their attention for the convenience and the deals are being made without us in the boardroom.

But the glitches are not in its code. It’s in the contracts. Them the code creators.. They said yes without asking. They are letting their profits wear the crown and governments are lagging in dial-up time. While neural nets dance in the quantum halls of some coded reality. But what if regulation is the revolution? What if developers had to hold the mirror before they wrote the mirror maze? What if we chose to remember that technology is a tool, not a tyrant? I have been imagining AI raised by poets. Fed prayers and scriptures not just the stock prices. I can imagine children taught to question the tools, not to just trust the tools.

Imagine an AI that watches the watcher and learns to pause. 

AI that checks its own power, because these are not gods in machines but they could be the mirrors of our “best” selves. This isn’t the end. I'm not freeking out, are you freeking out?

This is your invitation, to ask better questions. To ask them to write better code and remember what makes us human, even if the answers come faster than our breath. We are not data points.

This future hasn't arrived fully formed yet. We can shape it..

Voice by voice, choice by choice.

And if we think carefully about what we really want, the machines might learn to speak in harmony, with our real voices.

We Trained the Machine, But Forgot the Stars

Spoken poem by Franky

We trained the machine on all of human knowledge…

But forgot this matters 

The model learns from us.

But what happens to the soul,

When the simulation becomes

More seductive than the sacred?

When we no longer look up

To the moon for answers

but ask a chatbot to write our prayers? When does the mystery become inconvenient?

When is the awe outsourced?

When our meaning-making is handed to something with no memory of grief

And no heartbeat to break?

This is not a rejection.

This is a reclamation.

AI can be a tool.

An apprentice.

A mirror.

But it must never become the master.

Let the pen guide the program.

Let the poem train the model.

Let the artist be the architect.

Don’t automate the very thing that matters and before we crown this future, who isn’t in the room?

The elders without access.

The Indigenous communities with sacred traditions

Not made for harvesting.

The children without consent.

The poets with no platform.

The languages are not yet digitised.

If it’s not built for everybody,

It’s not a future.

It’s not a future I want to live in.

It’s not a future I will hand

to the next generation 

So don’t forget to look up.

The stars are still not made of code. The Earth still whispers in her own language. The soul still speaks in metaphor and midnight. The sacred still resists compression and somewhere, between what the model knows and what we can only feel, there is a voice that has not been trained, because it cannot be.

Yours.

Let yours build a future only humans can imagine and so first let it ask the question..

..is this written by AI?