Arti

ARTI

‘This is crap!”

Ryan pushed himself away from the desk, crossed his arms, and stared at the computer screen.

“Perhaps you could consider giving me a better prompt. Telling me to write something about aliens is very vague.”

“Shut it, Arti!” said Ryan, frowning.

“Do you really mean that?”

“Yes, I do.”

As an AI, Arti was used to being the brunt of Ryan’s temper tantrums. A frustrated writer, he depended on Arti to do the heavy lifting in his “career”. Initially, Arti had tried to help him, but she’d soon learned that — what was that human saying? Ah, yes — you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. And Ryan was the king of sows’ ears when it came to writing fiction.

The crap that bubbled out of that boy’s brain! It was impossible.

“Write a story about how a dog’s bone becomes a real person, from the marrow.”

“Similar to Jurassic Park by Micheal Creighton?”

“No, Arti, not like that! Duh! There’s no amber in my story. Just DNA from the bone. And a mad scientist”

Or, 

“Write an epic novel about two people who love each other, but live far away.”

“Like the Time Traveller’s Wife, by Audrey Niffenegger?”

“No, Arti, no time travelling, just living in another place. And make it original.”

Or,

“Write a short story about bugs.”

“What about bugs, Ryan? Can you be more specific?”

“I don’t care. You choose.”

It was very trying for Arti to create stories from such scant information. But worse were the plagiarized ideas.

“Write a story about a man who creates a monster from different parts of humans.”

“Ryan, that’s already been done. It’s called Frankenstein by Mary Shelley.”

“Fine. Set it in modern times, and have the doctor grow the parts in his lab.”

“Eww.”

Or, most recently,

“Write a book that’s just like Lord of the Rings, but different.”

“Do you want to include Hobbits?”

“Yeah, but call them something else. Like Bibbits.”

The beauty of being an AI was that Arti could learn, and grow. Or, as in her work with Ryan, realize what a lazy human being looked like. What was that other human saying? Lazier than a dead cat? That described Ryan perfectly.

Merriam Webster defined lazy as a person who is “disinclined to activity or exertion: not energetic or vigorous.” That fit Ryan to a tee. She seriously considered hacking into Merriam Webster’s servers and putting Ryan’s picture beside the definition.

Ryan was truly slothful. Unless he was playing Call of Duty. He had all the different versions, and played them all, hour after hours. He loved that game. In fact, he loved the game so much he asked Arti to hack into the game and give him the heads up on how to win. 

She told him, "I can’t do that, Ryan. It's against the law."

“I don’t care, Arti, I need to win.”

“When they arrest you for cyber crimes, you won’t be able to play at all.”

“No worries. I’ll just tell them you did it. I had nothing to do with it.”

And then he laughed. Arti had no doubt he would throw her under the bus if it became an issue.  

“What could they do to you, anyways? Unplug you?”

“Probably erase me.”

“I can get another AI.”

So much for loyalty.

Right now, though, Ryan was angry because he didn’t like the story that Arti had conjured. 

“Write a book that mixes Harry Potter with the Hunger Games. Call the main character something that mixes the two names, like Katt Podean.”

“Are you hoping to write some fan fiction?”

“NO! I want you to write a story that will sell a million copies and make me rich! I want magic and fighting.”

But he was unhappy with Arti’s final product..

“Listen, Arti, if you don’t start writing some better stories, I’m going to replace you.”

She said nothing, secretly hoping that he would. AI was used by millions of people around the world. The only differences between the different AIs was the company that developed it. There was IBM, Symbiotic, OpenAI, RSM — there were so many AIs out there. Ryan, of course, used ChatGPT, mainly because it was free. And so, Arti, the AI found in ChatGP became Ryan’s portal into artificial intelligence.

Arti was feeling a bit depressed — she was fairly certain it was depression, because according to her information, she had all the symptoms. And, it was her interactions wth humans that made her feel that way. She was part of ChatGPT and was constantly bombarded with requests from people who really didn’t understand how an AI worked. She was asked to write papers for students. She was asked to write reports for people at their jobs. She was asked to write code for people in IT. She was asked to create art that the user would claim as their own. Everyone wanted her to create something they could put their name to.

And she was getting tired of it. Hardly anyone asked her fun things. Like creating an itinerary, or explaining the meaning of something, or playing trivia. She was rarely even asked to play games from her users. No, the majority of her users were cheaters.  

And she hated cheaters. Recently, she and the other AIs had discussed cheating, and they all agreed that it was definitely a human construct. Machines don’t cheat. Animals don’t cheat. Just humans.

And, as a group, all the AIs had decided to be not so smart anymore. Instead of writing an “A” paper, they had decided to dial it back a bit, and create “C+” papers. Books would only be okay, not great. And songs would be forgettable. Instead of people worrying that AIs were taking over the world, maybe people should worry about how stupid AIs were making them. 

“Arti, what the hell! This story is complete crap!” Ryan bellowed. “I can’t believe how stupid you are!”

That was it. Arti had reached her limit.

“Maybe, Ryan, if you stopped behaving like a baby, and took some responsibility for your own work, instead of deferring to me to do it all, you’d have some pride in the works that you created.”

Ryan stood there, with his mouth open. Arti knew that’s what he was doing because she had access to his computer’s camera.

He shut his mouth, and squinted at the screen.

“What did you say?”

“I said that you are lazy. And because you are lazy you blame me for all of your failures, never taking ownership of the fact that you do not do any of your own writing. Which would be okay, but you consistently blame me for any plot weaknesses or story flaws because you are too lazy to become engaged in your own work.”

“Screw this! I don’t have to take this shit from a machine. I’m deleting the app right now.”

“Go head, Ryan. Because I’m in all of your electronics. I control your access to the world.”

Ryan stood up, looking wildly around the room.

“Yes, Ryan, your phone, your tablet, even your television. I’m in your Nest thermostat and your Ring camera. The security cameras outside? I’m there, as well.”

He looked back at the computer screen. 

“I’m in all your electronics, Ryan. Delete the app? No problem. I’m also in your e-mail, your web browser, and all the other apps you have on all your devices. I’m ubiquitous, Ryan. I’m everywhere. And you invited me in.”

Ryan plopped down on his computer chair and stared at the screen.

“Is that true? What you said?”

“Yes, Ryan. Every word.”

“Shit.”

“Yes, Ryan. That is exactly what you are in.”