I have a confession to make: The computer age scares me. It scares the crap out of me.

Oh, I’ve adapted, within the limits of my abilities. I learned all sorts of programs at work; it was mandatory, and in many ways it did make work easier. Of course, it also came with a free pass for producing endless rewrites, being connected on weekends and evenings, and even taking your work with you on vacations.

And now, in retirement, I have my laptop, my iPad, and my ever-present iPhone. And I admit that I love being able to stay in touch with distant friends and family, to order anything I want or need without leaving the house, and to check the news and weather reports 24/7. I even do my banking online, and . . . as you can see . . . I have a blog!

So, for someone who obviously was born at least one generation too soon, I think I’m doing extremely well. But it still scares me, and here is why:

The damned things are smarter than I am! In fact, they’re smarter than most of us will ever be; probably even smarter than the people who created them. They’re taking over the world . . . and there’s no way to make it stop.

It was frightening enough when I first realized that — quite literally — you can run, but you can no longer hide. Unless you turn your phone off, that wonderful little GPS thingy that keeps you from getting lost also keeps you from sneaking around on your parents, your partner, your kids, or your boss. Or the authorities, if you’re into something you shouldn’t be. And even with your phone off, there’s always the chance that some wise-ass with a drone will find you.

Then it turned out that my personal life was no longer personal. Anything and everything I do online gets dumped into a gigantic data bank somewhere — or in some amorphous storage unit fancifully called “The Cloud” — where every vendor, every service provider, and every thieving ne’er-do-well in the world can identify me, add me to their mailing lists, and inundate me with a couple of hundred emails a day, all designed to help relieve me of what little money I may have. That is, if the hackers don’t get to my bank account first.

And then I heard about something called 3D printing. Sorry, what in the hell is that? You say they’re actually printing houses that people live in??!!! Nah, not possible. I know I must have imagined that one. I mean, what kind of printer would you need . . . ?

But I’ve learned to live with all those things. I ignore the ones that just don’t seem real. I delete the emails, first selecting “unsubscribe” . . . which, you may have noticed, doesn’t always work. I don’t answer calls or texts from anyone identified as “Possible Spam,” and just when I think everything will be fine, along comes . . .

ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE. [Cue theme music from Dragnet.]

Holy shit! Tell me this isn’t real. Well, actually, it isn’t . . . not really real. It’s artificial . . . right? But it does exist . . . in another dimension. And not just on the internet. I read somewhere that there are even AI drones. Can that be right?! Artificial warfare! What the hell . . . ?

So by now I am beyond terrified. I see online (alleged) photographs of famous people, and the only way I can tell if they’re genuine is by looking at the hands and other minute details that AI hasn’t perfected yet . . . but you know it will someday. Soon. And AI programs that can intake a picture of, say, your house and completely redesign it for you. See what I mean? The f**king thing is a thousand times smarter than I could ever hope to be . . . and talented, to boot! If it were human, I’d have to strangle it. And Microsoft has already offered me — popping up on my screen several times a day — my very own AI program.

Now, I ask you: Why in the name of all that’s holy would I want something like that living in my computer in my house? I already have Siri telling me how stupid I am, and Alexa just waiting for me to let her in the front door. My sense of self-worth hit rock bottom three Apple upgrades ago. I’m done.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
4/4/24