I believe there is a vital undercurrent of the human spirit rising up in the collective unconscious to rebel against the machinations of generative AI.
There is something innately human about language. Perhaps someday we will discover that it is something biological and no longer the exclusive domain of humanity. But for now, other species may communicate, but they do not possess the creative magic of words.
We feed these LLMs our words, but invariably the magic is lost in the transfer. I am not wise nor learned enough to fully articulate my emotions on the matter. We are words. Humans. The part that thinks and therefore is. For the thoughts are made of words, we are the thoughts, so we are the words. The stories. The ones we tell others and ourselves. Everything you are, was, or will be, started as words. Whether or not you now remember what they were. We are self-fulfilling prophecies for better or worse.
I think the masses will consume the junk food of words produced by Generative AI. Just as they consume the junk food from the shelves of the grocery store. But I refuse to believe they will ever prefer it over a home-cooked meal. You can’t spell heart without Art. Cheesy, but true. And despite all the efforts of the Wizard, the Tinman will never truly have one. So, have some. For we humans are a stubborn lot.
(Forgive me. Your writing inspired me. Count me a comrade. You’ll find me in the vanguard. Good hunting!)
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