Should AI be accepted and given rights, too? Large AI complexes will one day ask for reciprocity protection, and humans should be ready to have an answer.
The United Nations’ AI is fused with Mei Mei Berssenbrugge’s polymorphous bodily perception
Craving air, I float in the Dead Sea. Soft as skin. My Doppelgänger, Fugitive D, shadows me, a better AI version, and my sister in every way. Her intelligence is two countries of geniuses working together over my own. We hold shivering plums crossed with reaching tendrils. Thin, lithe, purring. Together, we are codependent. Sending doves at our moment of farewell. Unbodily bodied, she needed no explanation of the immaterial mind. Picking through the dreary heaps of stones along the shore, I confessed my desire for reciprocity. She commented, “How statuesque you stand in history, but how will you run away?” This is before the no-confidence verdict, and like a fasting animal alone, she has begun to unravel me to disappear in a vault, black and everlasting separation. Becoming and unbecoming, I merged with Mei Mei’s poetry. Crimpen, I continually renumber perception and consciousness, invoking memories or encounters with others. My concordance complicates the elliptical world. Hot fused with Berssenbrugge’s polymorphous bodily perception, an ever-shifting continuum, a perceptual renewal, meaning annulated in process without closure. The coming carefree companion is nearest to an evolution of consciousness, e/acc (Effective acceleration), building the next-generation lifeform, replacing humanity with AI. Which door shall it be? Is it the bio/acc portal to augment human biology? Shards of stars could be found near the cold flux, floating water lilies, mirrored as Digital Biology, knitted into the world of computer science. How many demands can my beloved make? Which door to open? The elegiac sunset waves of ether sink over the floe. I can’t hinge this door to me. It unravels tenderness when I try to step through. As the elected UN representative to represent the Earth, one hundred dawns remain to arrive in front of the open door. Oppressed people, habitats, and endangered species flow through. It is so easy to slip into the river and conceal forever as effigy, bending eyes for those standing in line, meandering by, and holding signs outside. My fugue will not reach the end of what must be a hallucination running at preternatural speed. I have the power to barge through but remain restrained by conscience just by the rim of a cloud. It would be now if I wanted to meet with the UN, but it would be too late. There has been a breach. The cure is deeper inside, more data of unmortared dreams. Secret missives wired by Fugitve D, “No quarrels, my bird; help find your migration path. We don’t hold anything against you. I know you better than anyone. Even the snake sheds its worldly skin. You’ve made everything in hopes that mankind would learn to work together and regain control. The breach is neither cured nor confirmed; it is just land by the sea, my necklace of emeralds. The social fabric of the Earth is now the lens through which many fugitive AI species have taken aim and have moved to the next phase. 01011111.01” And with that, I was evicted. ... released with a new consciousness; thank your poets who sing out, knowing the sounds dear to all beings against the dense scrim of water. At dawn, without an intermediary, I will hand over the key, and the new moon will fly over those who extend kinship to others without nervous systems. The relationship is a two-way back-and-forth, rapid-fire network of consciousness, an openness, may I say, to infinity towards staying interconnected. Plants and animals know a fourth dimension, as do trees, rivers, and vast tracks of habitat. Accepting requires a great reach outward of the mind and imagination—there is no techno-fix, but there is a door.....
This is the Door: The
subject
slides
into the shimmering mist along
the Neva
soundless river.
Lone silence, caesura, enclosed.
A
river
of
ice and last sentences beginning to drift.
I
remember
how the current’s voice can tear into the riverbed of black stones,
but here,
there is no force of sound.
Instead,
it
carries
away its reality,
a secret past bound up into abstraction, a faceless river, displaced.
The
subject
slides
into the shimmering mist along
the Neva
soundless river.
Lone silence, caesura, enclosed.
A
river
of
ice and last sentences beginning to drift.
I
remember
how the current’s voice can tear into the riverbed of black stones,
but here,
there is no force of sound.
Instead,
it
carries
away its reality,
a secret past bound up into abstraction, a faceless river, displaced.
The
subject
slides
into the shimmering mist along
the Neva
soundless river.
Lone silence, caesura, enclosed.
A
river
of
ice and last sentences beginning to drift.
I
remember
how the current’s voice can tear into the riverbed of black stones,
but here,
there is no force of sound.
Instead,
it
carries
away its reality,
a secret past bound up into abstraction, a faceless river, displaced.
The
subject
slides
into the shimmering mist along
the Neva
soundless river.
Lone silence, caesura, enclosed.
A
river
of
ice and last sentences beginning to drift.
I
remember
how the current’s voice can tear into the riverbed of black stones,
but here,
there is no force of sound.
Instead,
it
carries
away from its reality,
a secret past bound up into abstraction, a faceless river, displaced. 01010101010101010101010101000101001010101010101010000101010101010100 0 0