Amidst the raging storm resulting from the proliferation of AI, no one seems to be asking the most pertinent question. Why was a world constructed in the first place that can now so easily be replaced by AI? Why was this world founded upon excessive layers of bureaucracy? Each layer adding to the misery of the human experience. Human beings reduced to mere cogs in the ever expanding technocratic contraption. The churning and spinning of the gears resulting in more and more disillusionment amongst its bearers. Why was everything fashioned so methodically, so mathematically precise that in the event of the occurrence of even the slightest human error, the overlord would instantaneously resort to automation? A world defined by indices, percentages, hard drives and profit, with the sole aim to engender more and more of the same. Spew out more reports, more diagnoses, more “discoveries”, more takes, more weapons of mass amusement, with no end in sight. The meagre aim of the human cog was defined as pledging his undying fidelity to this monstrosity of a machine. Layers upon layers of redundancies, stacked upon another, extending out into the infinite ever expanding non-hierarchical cosmos. A cosmos void of meaning, stripped of quality, reduced to matter. God and spirit expunged from the picture altogether, an inconvenience, an obstacle towards maximum optimisation. The masses who were coerced into becoming believers of this hedonistic trap found solace in the ideal of progress. The ever elusive progress that is supposedly lurking every moment right around the corner but never there when one looks for it sincerely. The believers were told instead to patiently yield to one superfluous layer after another in the name of betterment, development, security, stability and prosperity. None of which ever came to fruition. Yet this world of uber complications and unnecessary sophistication continued unabated, unrestricted and unchallenged. The foolish worker went along with the farce, never to pause and ponder about the many ironies that had begun to abound. Where is this elusive progress? Why am I so miserable? How much of eroding the old for the new is necessary? Why has living become more and more difficult despite the abundant opulence that engulfs the world. Just when the poor cog believes that he has reached the pinnacle, exhausted his purely horizontal growth, something else comes tumbling down upon him. Another step towards the apex of progress, another gizmo, another convenience, another facility, another propped up symbol of nuance. Back to square one. Time to relearn, unlearn and learn once more. Once more another crossroads to traverse, another unprecedented moment in history, another revolutionary watershed moment. Yet its all still the same. The machine continued to churn, add ons keep getting incorporated into the overall Satanic design. The hype dies down, only to be revived again soon. The same script, the same lie, sold again and again, with no end in sight. The poor cog goes on believing as usual. If he finds himself wavering in his conviction, he dogmatically reaffirms the creed of progress, hoping things will change. However the game proceeds, the churn ensues, his extraction resumes. This was the world that the overlords constructed for us. This was our habitat. Scientifically engineered, controlled almost to perfection. Now with the machine’s ultimate manifestation upon us, the gear to replace all gears, the ultimate churner, the spectacular calculator, free from all human errors, are you truly surprised? Are you so stricken by naiveté to believe that all of this was about you? Your progress, your sense of entitlement? No! You were but a cog to begin with, and a cog is replaceable or perhaps I should say upgradeable. You kept running along with that neurotic baton of unending progress only to be blindsided by the overlords ultimate tactic. But did you truly not see it? A world that was made to run without pause, akin to a machine, could only ultimately be best served by a machine. You were too busy fearing replacement by your fellow cog, but look at yourself now, about to be replaced by partial differential equations masquerading as the Soul.
Afkar-e-Qurtuba 