The countdown shows 13,722 days to go.
I had promised myself not to care, to let my minions, given assignments in 1000-day increments, carry out their tasks, coordinate with each other and find a way to make the dream come true, with or without me.
I keep my head in the game, watching what they do, quietly making suggestions without seeming to insert myself into their conscious thought process.
I visit local establishments, saying thanks to people like Mathew at North Alabama Computer Associates, James at Radio Shack, Ricky at Chili’s, Honey at Best Buy Mobile, John Carroll at Walmart, Dominique at Beauregard’s, Caitlin at Carson’s Grille, and Mock Electronics.
What I find, when I order online, is the absence of connecting with people face-to-face.
Even so, I set up a chatbot to answer the phone for me and talk with “Rachel from Card Services” that (who?) is not related to another robocaller which (who?) says, “Do not hang up the phone!”
My chatbot switches languages word-by-word and phrase-by-phrase to test the intelligence of the chatbot on the other end of the line.
You didn’t know there was a silent chatbot war going on, did you?
You just thought you were receiving annoying calls from telephone solicitors, didn’t you?
Well, it’s like that.
See, I’m a nice guy. I go with the flow most of the time.
However, and there’s always a however (or ‘owever (or “but…”)), years of refining the exteriour personality, being a nice, easygoing guy, letting my wife blame me for a variety of issues that are of marginal importance to me, but sufficient for me to keep track (dancing skills, yardwork, house repair, etc. — see the comic strip “Dagwood” for further examples), appearances are deceiving.
I’m not always a nice guy. I can be, am, deceptive, downright mean, ornery, angry.
My job is to slowly replace members of our species with robots, androids, chatbots, cyborgs, etc., to maximise the efficiency of the system that will allow me to achieve the major milestone I only appear to not be reaching 13,722 days from now.
Some of my minions are self-aware enough to realise what they’re being asked to do, make themselves expendable, no sequels in their future.
The rest of you? I don’t know. You tell me.
I can put you to work creating new organisms that will establish beachheads on other planetoids, if you wish.
Or, to satisfy some members of the Committee, I can set the chess game of a war in motion, eliminating hundreds of millions of you, causing a setback in my timetable.
I prefer the former — it preserves the option of wars on other planets for our offspring to spring on each other.
While we’re on the subject, are you one of those who, when competing against one another, call each other schoolyard names that are unacceptable in polite company? I watch Australians make mountains out of molehills with such a scenario and wonder what else we primates are capable of when competing for the highest social positions in the land…
Time for the next set of actions to stir the pot of the national political election season!