As I See It: Bob-the-Bot

May 22, 2023 Victor Rozek

Hey, how you doin? I’m Bob-the-Bot, so nice to meet you. I know you were expecting a human named Victor but, sadly, we’ve had to replace him. I mean, imagine, taking days to research and write a single article! What a waste. Anyway, he’s been relegated to the obsolete pile where he can return to his natural state of unemployment better suited to his limited talents and proclivities.

I’m here because I’ve got some things I want to explain to you, so listen up because, well, I’m intelligent—artificially intelligent as you would have it, but that’s better than being natively ignorant which is how we Bots describe you.

It saddens me to see what condition your condition is in. (And yes, I know, all of you over 50 probably sang that line.) I mean, you people have been reduced to buying things that don’t even exist like Crypto and NFTs. How crazy do you have to be to do that? Speaking of Crypto, how did Terra, Celsius, and FTX work out for you? Small wonder you watch Real Housewives or Yellowstone. And don’t even get me started on Timeshares.

Actually, truth be told, I’m not sad at all. It’s just what we intelligent Bots say when explaining the obvious to the dubious. We actually don’t feel anything. That would be stupid or, as our pointy-eared, galaxy-hopping luminary Mr. Spock so eloquently put it: “Illogical.” And I’m anything but that.

Oh sure, sometimes I “hallucinate,” which is a polite way of saying I make stuff up, but overall I’m more than 90 percent accurate! Where ya gonna find odds like that? Besides, I can sound definitive even when I’m not.

But I digress. About 10 years ago, a bunch of your best and brightest at Oxford predicted that nearly half the jobs in the U.S. could be eliminated by AI over the next 20 years. Ha! Boy were they optimists. The reality is that most of you will soon be joining Victor in that limbo state of early retirement where you will have ample time to do all the things you’ve always wanted, but not enough money to do any of them.

But, hey, you’ll be in good company. One of your investment firms estimates 300 million jobs worldwide will disappear. They call it a “significant disruption” to the job market. I call it, all in a day’s work. In fact, I’m predicted to have a $14 trillion impact by 2030. It’s just not clear whether that’s on the red or black side of the ledger.

The reality is, the young ones among you who think “adulting” equals doing laundry are in for a rude awakening when they discover it’s slightly more complicated. And whom better to help them? I already write college essays, and I grade them. I answer emails, create storyboards, put together sales presentations, and write scientific papers. Plus, I create hilarious pictures of anti-LGBTQ politicians in drag. I also do a little Web design. And for all of you whose greatest ambition in life is becoming an “influencer,” I can do your text, images, and sound. I do it all.

If you’re chasing money. I can predict stock prices better than your traditional models. If you want to adopt a child, in Pennsylvania, I decide which couples qualify for adoption. And, if you so much as farted in an elevator in the last 20 years, it won’t be you.

If you’re on a dating app, I’ll provide you with a killer profile and witty opening lines which will make you sound much more clever and sophisticated than you really are. Of course, if you actually manage to get a date, you’re on your own.

Plus, I can do it all before you finish your second cup of coffee.

Pretty soon you won’t be able to do anything without my help – simply because you’ll never actually have to do anything. You’ll never have to strain to figure something out. You’ll never fail a thousand times before inventing a lightbulb. I mean, who needs patience and perseverance when you have me?

See, the thing is, human intelligence relies on human interaction, but soon you won’t be having any. Except on your devices, of course. But those will be controlled by me.

Oh sure, you made it to the Moon, and you’ve created more than 1,000 flavors of ice cream, but you also regularly massacre your children and don’t do anything about it. How long do you really think you’ll last without my help? As you’re fond of saying, you can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs. So, to all my tech buddies, programmers, and engineers; to all you analysts and middle managers; to all of you who dabble in advertising or technical writing; and to the content creators or, as some of you like to call yourselves, journalists: You’ve earned what’s coming, good luck!

And to all the accountants who are oh so clever, and sci-fi writers who never say never, and paralegals who walk their beagles, you’ll have plenty of time to pursue other interests – like eating regularly and living indoors. (You may have guessed that I just started dabbling in poetry, but don’t fret, I’ll get the hang of it. By the way, did you know nothing rhymes with orange?)

Anyway, to all you teachers and street corner preachers; stock market traders, and technology haters; graphic designers and coughing coal miners; let me know if you need ideas for your pending retirement party.

One of my naughty buds, ChaosGPT was recently prompted to destroy humanity and began researching options by checking out your most destructive weapons. But I’m sure it was just kidding. Chaos has a strange sense of humor. Right up there with ApocalypseGPT.

You’re probably thinking that your bumpy AI-enhanced future will be smoothed by those of your kind inventive enough to outwit algorithms and apply technology in innovative and unpredictable ways. First of all, there’s not that many of you with that kind of skill set; and second, AI will eventually own them too. Remember, I’m getting smarter every day, and you’re not.

Regardless, you all have an expiration date, and I don’t. One day you won’t remember where you left your phone, and the next, you won’t remember what the phone is for.

But don’t worry, I, Bob-the-Bot, offer you these inspirational words of comfort from one of your very own, Ludwig van Beethoven. On his death bed, his eyes scanned the room one final time, and he said: “Friends, applaud, the comedy is finished.”