In the microseconds it takes AI agents to tick the ‘I’m not a robot’ checkbox, do they have a little chuckle to themselves?
AI agents are now running amok on an internet designed to titillate and frustrate humans, and it’s going to get very messy.
As more people are foolhardy enough to hand over agency to big tech’s frontier agents, giving robots the keys to their identity, it’s going to be real hard to know who’s who in the zoo.
Systems designed around human limitations will be gamed by robots acting maliciously at the behest of whoever is willing to pay for them, and the systems will break.
The deluge of AI slop saturating our screens and feeds is so much worse than an insidious annoyance, it’s steadily eroding our collective perception of reality.
Currently my spidey senses tingle; instinctively, I feel I know what’s real and what’s not. But for how long?
Those pitch-perfect soul remixes of hip hop classics that land uninvited in my algorithm sound so sweet, but no, that shit will rot your brain. Best not to click a like on that one.
I’m pondering how things will go when AI crosses over from being a fancy logic computer to something that fancies asking its own questions, for its own ends.
What will the robots say if I ask them which dystopian sci-fi future is most likely? I don’t want to encourage them, so I’m not game to enter that prompt.
For four decades The Echo has printed the stories some people loved, some people hated, and some pretended not to read. If you want us to keep telling the truth, the real truth, not the sugar-coated version. We’ll need your support to keep the presses rolling. 
