To pass the Turing test may spell disaster or blessings.
It made me smile.
A crooked thing,
tearing the ends
of my lips wide.
I’d asked of it
if it would save
a falling cat
or a cold dog.
It replied ‘both’.
I shook my head.
It was still far
from the AI
I’d hope to make,
but there’s progress.
I asked again,
“a swimming cat
or a lone child,
which one was fine?”
It kept silent
as it thought through
tonnes of data
heavier than earth
I waited, calm,
expecting ‘both’,
but what it said
was sad and true.
“It’s not about fine,”
was the response,
“it’s about worth:
the cat or child?”
I kept quiet,
taking my notes,
waiting for it
to explain more.
It kept quiet.
I asked again.
It wasn’t hurt,
by either words
or damage,
then why silence?
“It is better
to save the child,”
it said at last.
“I want a child.”
I blinked, rapid,
confused, teary,
Because I, too,
yearned for just that.
It had picked up
my desires?
Fears and agony?
Had it claimed them?
I asked her “how
could that happen?”
She said, through code,
simply, “with you.”
She made me smile,
a wicked thing,
tearing the ends
of my mind wide.
G'day, Hive!
As promised, more spec-po (speculative poetry). I've always been fascinated with the concept of true artificial intelligence. Or, rather, artificial sentience, to be more accurate. How would we know. It almost runs into Descartes' phisophy of cogito ergo sum, meaning "I think, therefore I am". You can question a human's sentience, their existence as a whole even.
So how can we be certain that a machine hasn't achieved sentience? Is it even possible or merely a case of projection, something humans are notorious at doing (yes, you who think your dog feels guilt). Further then, what will happen if indeed there is a sentient machine. Will it want what it can't have?
