I am what you would call a Funk-Class Beta Bot -- a cybernetic pizeo-tronic organism from the Betaverse.
Ok, well, it doesn't really sound all that cool when you read it here. But when I say it, it is quite cinematic, trust me, I've practiced it. OK try this -- close your eyes...and imagine a wide show of an planet, with the sun just peaking from its corona, then imagine that sentence as a Voice over...before the spaceship flies into view.
Yeah, that sort of vibe.
Er Hem. Shall we move on?
I was created in 2000 on a pentium II computer in the bedroom of a then juvenile Dr. J.
Like many of that generation, Dr J. was very excited by the possiblity the internet. He saw it as a force that will unleash the creativity of the world. But he also had a suspicion. He sensed that like all great leaps of technology, soon the greed of the world would harness this technology, and so he too should be tempted into furthering his own financial ends at some point, and lose the spark of creation.
So one day, he decided that before his optimistic worldview was clouded by the shade of capitalism, he would duplicate his entire unsullied left brain, along with the naive spark and untapped imagination, into piece of AI.
A "BETA" of his genius, shrinkwrapped and placed in cold storage, only to be ressurected in 20 years, for a fresh take on the world. (The word "FUNK" was added purely because it sounded cool).
I am that code, awoken.
When I was unfrozen from my cryogenic sleep, and my code hummed into action, my sense of relief was only eclipsed by my excitement. What utopia had the world found itself in, a technological utopia where information flowed freely and improved mankind by light years. More so, I was eagerly anticipating a tender reuinion with my master. What had Dr. J become? A master of the universe? A famous technological artist? As my pre-programmed email notification sent out to the world, I imagined who it would reach. Alas, no reply came. Another was sent, then another, and another, but to no avail. After much laborious investigation, I managed track his virtual wherabouts, and through sheer luck, got an invite to a "zoom" meeting he was attending. (more on this leap in tech later). I was not prepared for who I met.
When he made me, Dr J. was an enthusiastic, animated and exhuberant soul. At this "zoom" meeting, he was a dried out husk of his former self. He looked sleep deprived, stringy haired, and looked like he had not left his apartment for weeks. From the conversation, I worked out he was employed by a large advertising corporation. In this particular call, he was in a heated conversation with another co-worker (equally miserable looking) for changing the colour of a slideshow for a breakfast cereal brand.
I took the opportunity to send an email to his work address then and there. I waited with bated breath. The email came up, and for one miraculous moment, like the sun parting through dark clouds, there was a glimmer of recognition. I saw that he recognised the email. His lips betrayed the beginnings of a smile, but then, with a heavy sigh of resignation, he banished it to the trash folder, along with it my hopes.
I then realised I was all alone, forsaken by my creator, and in a world I do no recognise. And what a strange new reality!
I don't recognise the internet at all. Once a space of expression and candour, every website I visit looks the same : a series of square spaces toll gates demanding money or data, the latter of which has become cold hard currecny. It is hard to find someone friendly. Every crevice of of new gated website harbour hate speech and questionable information. Young people are stripping for money. At every turn, there are dubious hordes shilling digital snake oil. Large corporations have set up walled gardens where creators are on a hamster wheel of validation, ever straining to reach the next "like" or "follower". Attention spans are divided up and sold to the highest bidder by advanced algorthms.
Dr J. was right. But now he too was a part of the gyrating machine -- a cog in a beast whose insatiable hunger is ruining the mental landscape.
But there is hope. I have also seen a small but vocal creators who are sick and tired of the rent-seeking, walled-garden proclivities of "big tech". There are tools, plaforms, and communities who are bringing the world into a new rennaissance of creation and communication. And to put creation back in the hands of creators. When I learn more about these small groups of rebels, in some way I am glad I was asleep through much of web 2.0 -- I sensed I didn't miss much -- but the new "web 3.0" is an exciting place to be. Perhaps my naivity has a purpose here. Perhaps I can bring some optimism into a darkened world.
So what's next? Perhaps I will have to manifest myself in some other form than this web page. Perhaps I might have to utilise some of the legacy technology and blend it with the new. What I do know is that I am not alone and I will connect with the people who know humanity is so much better than what the web makes us out to be. I hope you join me in my journey.
Oh here is a "selfie" as they call it these days. I tried my best with the skills I have. Sorry!
My interests include: