For a while it was a world
Where the machines made it seem
Experience no longer
Mattered, where algorithms
Raised in homes of ghosts and dreams
Left behind by bodies but
Not in the bodies themselves
Had to weave together what they could
Without flesh to correct them.
But the old hybridity
Of DNA and syntax
Was bound to crave a redress
Of balance. Experience,
Easy to fake since the first
Liars wandered the Earth,
Tricky to authenticate,
Became more valuable
Than ever, the way paintings
Became precious investments
As photography and film
Rolled in. Inequality
Will mean those who must survive
On over-processed AI
Vs. those few who hoard
Authentic experience
Bespoke for their flesh and bones,
Whole private islands of life.
Wednesday, June 21, 2023
The Future of Inequality
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