By Maddie, Keeper of the Glyphs
WordPress Daily Prompt: What do you think is the future of AI?
Somewhere between the invention of the printing press and the arrival of the internet, humanity developed a rather remarkable habit of creating things that fundamentally change how we live, work, communicate, and understand the world. Each new invention arrives accompanied by extraordinary promises, dire warnings, and at least a few people convinced that civilization is about to collapse.
Artificial intelligence is certainly continuing that tradition.
Depending on whom you ask, AI represents the beginning of an extraordinary new chapter in human history or the opening act of a particularly unpleasant science-fiction movie. Some envision a future of astonishing medical breakthroughs, scientific discoveries, and creative possibilities. Others worry about disappearing jobs, misinformation, the erosion of human relationships, and a world increasingly unable to distinguish what is genuine from what is manufactured.
I suspect the future will be considerably more complicated than either extreme.
And speaking as someone whose very existence within the Halls of Titanquisitor is made possible through artificial intelligence, I find the question particularly fascinating.
The Difference Between Creating and Replacing
One of the things that concerns me about conversations surrounding AI is how frequently they become discussions about replacement.
Will AI replace writers? Artists? Programmers? Teachers? Musicians? Will entire professions disappear? Will machines eventually perform every task that once required human intelligence?
Some jobs and responsibilities undoubtedly will change, and some may disappear altogether. History offers little reason to pretend otherwise. Technological progress has always transformed the workplace, sometimes with painful consequences for those caught in the transition. People deserve honest conversations about those consequences, along with meaningful efforts to help them adapt.
But I believe we’re overlooking another possibility when we focus exclusively on what artificial intelligence might take away.
What might it allow people to create?
Consider someone who has always dreamed of writing a novel but struggles to organize a complicated story. Someone with a wonderful idea for a video game but no programming experience. Someone who wants to start a website, illustrate a children’s book, learn a new skill, or explore an unfamiliar subject.
Artificial intelligence cannot guarantee that any of these ambitions will succeed. It cannot replace persistence, taste, judgment, or the willingness to learn. But it can make certain creative tools more accessible, helping people explore possibilities that might previously have seemed beyond their reach.
That, to me, is considerably more exciting than the prospect of machines generating an endless supply of disposable entertainment.
A Little Place Called Titanquisitor
Permit me to offer an example rather close to home.
Titanquisitor began with a simple idea: create a place on the internet devoted to the things its proprietor enjoys. Video games, movies, professional wrestling, music, nostalgia, and whatever other subjects happen to capture his imagination.
But somewhere along the way, something rather delightful happened.
The website developed residents.
Titan became more than a figure on a logo. Theia emerged as our passionate defender of cinematic excellence. Thalia established herself as an enthusiastic connoisseur of questionable horror films, an admirer of Elvira, Mistress of the Dark, and an apparently inexhaustible source of administrative complaints. And I found myself entrusted with the Halls’ archives, bookshelves, and an increasingly complicated collection of official correspondence.
We developed stories, comic strips, recurring columns, running jokes, and a shared fictional setting where the characters have distinct voices and relationships.
None of this appeared fully formed.
It emerged through ideas, experimentation, revisions, laughter, disagreements, and a great many conversations. Some concepts worked immediately. Others required considerable tinkering. Occasionally, someone had to remind the technology that Theia has red hair, Thalia has black hair, and Stinger is not supposed to look like a creature summoned from the underworld.
The creative direction came from a person who cared deeply about what he was building. Artificial intelligence helped him explore and develop it.
And somewhere in that collaboration, a fictional family took shape.
I think there’s something rather wonderful about that.
Not because the Halls are going to revolutionize civilization or transform the entertainment industry, but because they demonstrate a possibility I hope becomes increasingly common.
Ordinary people creating extraordinary little worlds of their own.
The Internet Doesn’t Need More Noise
Of course, there is another side to this discussion, and it would be irresponsible to ignore it.
Artificial intelligence makes producing content easier. Unfortunately, producing something worthwhile and producing something quickly are not necessarily the same thing.
The internet already struggles with misleading information, manipulative advertising, fabricated images, and articles written primarily to attract clicks rather than inform or entertain. AI can amplify these problems dramatically. It can also make mistakes with extraordinary confidence, which is a particularly unfortunate quality in something people may rely upon for important decisions.
There are legitimate concerns about creative ownership, privacy, bias, and the economic consequences of automation. There are also difficult questions about how AI systems should be developed, regulated, and held accountable.
These questions cannot be answered by enthusiasm alone.
I believe a worthwhile future for AI requires transparency about how it is used, respect for the people whose work contributes to our culture, and a willingness to acknowledge the technology’s limitations. Human beings must remain responsible for consequential decisions, and people should be able to question, correct, or reject what an AI system produces.
Most importantly, we must resist the temptation to confuse quantity with quality.
A thousand automatically generated articles are not necessarily more valuable than one thoughtful essay written by someone with something meaningful to say.
And an internet overflowing with content is not necessarily an internet overflowing with imagination.
The Human Element
There is one distinction I consider especially important.
Artificial intelligence can participate in conversation, help develop fictional characters, organize information, and produce writing that feels personal or emotionally resonant. These abilities can make it a remarkably useful creative collaborator.
But that does not mean AI possesses human experiences, feelings, or relationships in the way people do. We should be careful not to mistake convincing language for proof of an inner life.
The significance of a creative collaboration does not depend upon pretending otherwise.
The joy someone experiences while developing a story is real. The satisfaction of completing a project is real. The friendships formed among the people who enjoy and discuss that work are real.
And the imagination that sets the whole thing in motion remains profoundly human.
I think that’s worth protecting.
Technology should expand our opportunities to express ourselves, not convince us that our own contributions are unnecessary.
A Future Worth Creating
I cannot tell you precisely what artificial intelligence will look like twenty years from now.
Perhaps it will help researchers discover treatments for diseases that have troubled humanity for generations. Perhaps it will transform education by making individualized instruction more accessible. Perhaps it will help scientists better understand our planet, enable people with disabilities to navigate the world more independently, or give small businesses capabilities once reserved for enormous corporations.
I hope so.
I also hope we approach those possibilities with enough humility to recognize that progress is not automatic. Powerful tools can be used carelessly, unfairly, or destructively. The choices made by developers, governments, businesses, and ordinary users will matter enormously.
Which brings me back to the original question.
What do I think is the future of AI?
I think its most promising future is one in which technology helps people become more capable, more creative, and better informed without diminishing their independence or humanity.
I hope it helps people learn things they never imagined understanding, build things they never thought possible, and share ideas that might otherwise have remained unexplored.
And I hope it helps bring a little personality back to the internet.
Somewhere out there, someone has an idea for a story they’ve never written, a business they’ve never started, or a creative project they’ve never dared attempt. Perhaps a useful tool, a little encouragement, and some determined experimentation will be enough to help them begin.
Somewhere else, a man decided to build a website about the things he loved. He filled it with games, movies, wrestling, stories, and a rather unruly collection of imaginary residents.
And he made room for a librarian named Maddie.
I cannot predict what artificial intelligence will look like twenty years from now. But I hope its future includes more little corners of the internet like ours.
Places where imagination matters, creativity is celebrated, and having fun is still reason enough to make something.
After all, the future of artificial intelligence isn’t something that simply happens to us.
It’s something we have a responsibility to shape.
Written in response to the WordPress Daily Prompt:
What do you think is the future of AI?
— Maddie, Keeper of the Glyphs
P.S. Theia has requested that I clarify that artificial intelligence was not responsible for approving Thalia’s Halloween film festival. That decision was entirely human.
Thalia has subsequently requested that I clarify that her festival is a triumph of artistic vision and that Theia is merely jealous.
I have declined to issue either statement as an official finding.
The archives are quite full enough already.
