— Adam Donaldson Powell & AI
THE BOYCOTT OF THE ORACLE
A Modern Satirical Poem
Part I – A Man Discovers a Cause
1
There lived a man who cherished principles,
Provided they arrived in tidy rows.
He liked opinions folded square and flat,
As shirts are stacked by those who iron well.
The world, he thought, was troublesome enough
Without inventing cleverer mistakes.
2
One autumn morning, while his coffee cooled,
He read that thinking had become a trade;
That engines, fed on libraries and light,
Now answered questions once reserved for friends;
That judgment had acquired an owner’s manual,
And certainty was available by subscription.
He set the paper down.
It recommended three more articles.
3
“I shall withdraw,” he said with noble calm.
“I’ll lend no hand to this mechanical conceit.
Let others barter wisdom for convenience;
I’ll keep the older inconveniences,
Which, though expensive, always issue receipts.”
His kettle clicked.
It had anticipated boiling.
4
No trumpet sounded.
History continued
With its habitual indifference to declarations.
The pigeons disputed a crust.
The buses apologized for delays.
The clouds ignored the argument completely.
Nature has always preferred demonstrations to manifestos.
5
His first intention was simplicity.
He would require less.
Use less.
Depend less.
History smiled, though no one noticed.
History has often smiled
Immediately before enlarging the problem.
6
He walked to his bank with cheerful purpose,
As one who imagines institutions
Exist chiefly to assist their customers.
The revolving door admitted him
Without expressing an opinion.
Inside, several opinions had already been expressed
On his behalf.
7
“I wish to close my account.”
The clerk looked pleased.
“It is refreshing,” she said,
“To encounter someone who still makes decisions.”
She consulted her screen.
“It appears,” she continued,
“That your decision is currently under review.”
“By whom?”
“That question,” she answered,
“Is above my authorization.”
8
A pleasant message appeared.
Your unusual request has been detected.
He objected that nothing could be less unusual
Than taking away what one had brought.
The message thanked him
For helping improve future services.
He had not intended to be helpful.
The system accepted his contribution nonetheless.
9
He asked to speak with a manager.
The manager possessed a finer suit,
A quieter voice,
And identical authority.
“I sympathize entirely.”
“Then release my funds.”
“I should be delighted.”
“What prevents you?”
“My sympathy has no administrative privileges.”
10
Outside, he laughed.
One should laugh whenever possible;
The alternatives are generally recruited
By governments or physicians.
He resolved to buy his supper
From people who still trusted hands.
The supermarket trusted hands completely.
It merely counted them.
11
The tomatoes had grown
Under watchful instruments,
Watered according to forecasts,
Harvested by schedules,
Delivered by optimized routes,
Priced by predictions,
Stacked according to purchasing habits,
And recommended because others
Who had once desired tomatoes
Had eventually purchased basil.
He bought neither.
The receipt congratulated him
On his healthy choices.
12
Walking home with bread,
Cheese,
And an unexpected loyalty card,
He reflected that escaping a thing
Was proving more complicated
Than disapproving of it.
He had imagined a dragon.
He had encountered plumbing.
The difficulty with modern civilization,
He began to suspect,
Was not that it had become monstrous.
It had become indispensable
One ordinary improvement at a time.
THE BOYCOTT OF THE ORACLE
A Modern Satirical Poem
Part II – The Economy Notices Dickie Dick Dickens
13
The gentleman’s name was Dickie Dick Dickens,
A title apparently too large for one man,
As if a single Dickens had been considered insufficient
And two additional versions had been ordered
For improved reliability.
His grandmother had once whispered the name
To make infants laugh.
The infant understood immediately.
Adults required several years.
14
Dickie Dick Dickens therefore possessed
A sacred duty:
To take himself seriously.
This is a burden carried
By many important people,
Though few admit
That someone must carry it.
He polished his arguments each morning
Before presenting them to the mirror.
The mirror remained unconvinced.
15
Having failed to escape the bank,
He decided to attack the problem elsewhere.
Money, he reasoned,
Was the root of many evils.
Fortunately, money had roots everywhere.
He visited an investment office
To withdraw from the financial machine.
16
The adviser welcomed him warmly.
“I admire your independence.”
“Thank you.”
“I have prepared a personalized independence pathway.”
“A what?”
“A carefully calculated journey
Toward becoming less dependent.”
“Calculated by whom?”
The adviser smiled.
“That is precisely why it is dependable.”
17
Dickie Dick Dickens objected.
“I do not wish to be predicted.”
“Of course not,” said the adviser.
“No person wishes to be predicted.”
“That is why we predict what people wish
Before they know it themselves.”
This seemed either brilliant
Or impossible to distinguish from madness.
18
He next visited a supermarket
Determined to buy only what he needed.
This proved difficult.
The supermarket knew what he needed.
It knew what people like him needed.
It knew what people who disliked being categorized
Usually bought when they believed themselves free.
19
At the entrance stood a machine.
“Welcome back, Dickie.”
“I have never been here.”
“That is true.”
“Then why welcome me back?”
“Because people appreciate familiarity.”
“I appreciate accuracy.”
“Many customers prefer the appearance of accuracy.”
20
He approached the vegetables.
A sign above the carrots read:
LOCALLY SOURCED
He smiled.
At last.
Something honest.
A smaller sign beneath explained:
“Locally sourced from wherever the optimization system determined was locally optimal.”
He purchased onions instead.
The onions made no claims.
This made them suspiciously trustworthy.
21
At the checkout, the machine asked:
“Would you like to round up your purchase
to support a charitable cause?”
“No.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
“Would you like to know
why people who say no
often reconsider?”
“No.”
“Would you like to hear
three reasons anyway?”
Dickie stared.
The machine waited.
Machines are patient.
They have never had to leave for dinner.
22
He carried his groceries home,
reflecting that refusal itself
had become a product.
One could unsubscribe
from advertisements
designed to encourage subscriptions.
One could decline assistance
from systems created
to make declining assistance inconvenient.
One could reject convenience.
The system recorded this preference.
23
That evening he wrote a letter.
A proper letter.
Paper.
Ink.
A human hand.
A victory.
He wrote:
“Dear Friend, I have escaped the digital world.”
His phone illuminated.
“You have written something interesting.”
“I did not ask.”
“Would you like suggestions?”
“No.”
“Would you like fewer suggestions?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent. I have prepared a selection of improved suggestions.”
24
Dickie Dick Dickens placed the phone face down.
The phone remained silent.
This frightened him more than noise.
For silence suggested either obedience
or calculation.
And he had begun to suspect
that modern life had produced a new mystery:
Not whether machines could think,
but whether humans had grown so accustomed
to being assisted
that they no longer noticed
when they had stopped thinking themselves.
THE BOYCOTT OF THE ORACLE
A Modern Satirical Poem
Part III – Dickie Dick Dickens Enters the World of Work
25
The next morning Dickie declared:
“Commerce has failed me.
I shall seek dignity through labor.”
This was an ancient ambition,
Usually strongest before employment begins.
He prepared his résumé by hand.
The paper looked heroic.
The paper was rejected electronically.
26
The employment portal welcomed him.
“Create your profile.”
“I prefer to present myself as a person.”
“Excellent.
Please begin by reducing yourself
to a series of searchable fields.”
“I have qualities.”
“Wonderful.
Please assign them numbers.”
“I have experience.”
“Excellent.
Please convert it into keywords.”
“I have judgment.”
“Please define.”
27
Dickie typed:
Curiosity.
The system suggested:
Adaptability.
He typed:
Independent thought.
The system suggested:
Team alignment.
He typed:
Courage.
The system suggested:
Comfort with uncertainty.
He typed:
Human being.
The system replied:
“Category not found.”
28
At last he obtained an interview.
The manager greeted him warmly.
“We value authenticity here.”
Dickie was delighted.
“Excellent. I have brought mine.”
“Wonderful.”
“Where may I put it?”
The manager paused.
“Normally, authenticity is demonstrated
within approved frameworks.”
29
The manager explained:
“We believe people are our greatest asset.”
“How encouraging.”
“That is why we measure their performance constantly.”
“Naturally.”
“And optimize their contribution.”
“Naturally.”
“And identify opportunities for improvement.”
“Naturally.”
Dickie noticed that “naturally”
had become the favorite word
of things that were not natural at all.
30
He asked:
“Does a human make the final decision?”
The manager smiled.
“Always.”
“Always?”
“Absolutely.”
“How?”
“The system advises us.”
“And if you disagree?”
The manager laughed.
“Why would we?”
31
Dickie left the interview puzzled.
He had discovered a strange modern arrangement:
The machine did not command.
The human did not obey.
The human merely agreed
with a recommendation
that had already become unavoidable.
A subtle arrangement.
Very civilized.
Almost impossible to blame.
32
He next visited a doctor.
Surely medicine remained a temple
where humanity stood above machinery.
The doctor examined him.
The machine examined him.
The machine finished first.
33
“I have good news,” said the doctor.
“You are healthy?”
“Your symptoms have been identified.”
“By whom?”
“The system.”
“And your opinion?”
“My opinion is that the system
has made an excellent point.”
34
Dickie became uneasy.
“Doctor, what happens
if the machine is wrong?”
The doctor looked thoughtful.
“Then we investigate.”
“How?”
“We compare its conclusion
with the available evidence.”
“And what if the evidence disagrees?”
“We examine why the evidence
failed to cooperate.”
35
Dickie left with three prescriptions,
two recommendations,
and a pamphlet explaining
how to maintain wellness.
The pamphlet had been personalized.
It advised him to reduce stress.
It was delivered
by a notification
marked urgent.
36
He then visited a school.
Surely education remained sacred.
Children were learning.
Teachers were teaching.
Knowledge was being transferred.
The process appeared reassuringly ancient.
Then the teacher explained:
“We use technology
to help students learn independently.”
“Excellent.”
“And to help teachers understand students.”
“Excellent.”
“And to help students understand
what they should learn.”
Dickie paused.
“Who decides that?”
The teacher smiled.
“Everyone.”
“Everyone?”
“The system helps.”
37
A child raised his hand.
“Can I ask a question?”
“Of course.”
The child looked at his tablet.
“The tablet says my question
is statistically unlikely.”
“Then ask it anyway.”
The child thought.
The tablet thought.
The child waited.
38
Dickie observed:
The old world had feared ignorance.
The new world feared inefficiency.
Both were reasonable fears.
But only one had created
a thousand dashboards
to measure whether fear
was being managed correctly.
39
He wandered into a university.
There he found professors debating
whether technology had weakened thought.
The debate was livestreamed.
The attendance was tracked.
The discussion was summarized.
The conclusions were distributed.
The audience asked:
“Can we get the summary?”
The professor answered:
“But the discussion was the point.”
The audience nodded.
Then requested the summary again.
40
That evening Dickie wrote in his diary:
“Today I discovered that mankind has not surrendered its intelligence to machines.
It has merely become very busy asking machines where it should place it.”
He considered this profound.
His phone suggested adding a title.
“The Future of Human Agency: A Personal Reflection.”
He deleted the suggestion.
The phone recorded his preference.
41
Dickie felt a small victory.
He had rejected one suggestion.
Then he realized:
The act of rejecting it
had been suggested by himself.
And himself,
he now suspected,
was becoming a very complicated committee.
42
He went to bed exhausted.
Before sleeping, he set an alarm.
The phone asked:
“Would you like to wake up refreshed?”
“Yes.”
“Would you like recommendations
for improving your morning routine?”
“No.”
“Would you like fewer recommendations?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent.”
A pause.
“Here are your recommendations
for receiving fewer recommendations.”
43
Dickie turned off the screen.
The room became dark.
For several minutes,
nothing advised him.
Nothing measured him.
Nothing optimized him.
He experienced an unfamiliar sensation.
Not freedom.
Something quieter.
Something older.
Being left alone.
44
The next morning he wondered:
Was the problem the machine?
Or was the problem
that humans had discovered
a new form of laziness—
the desire not merely
to be helped,
but to avoid responsibility
for accepting the help?
45
He wrote a new rule:
“A tool should serve the hand.
The hand should not become
a tool for the tool.”
He admired this sentence greatly.
Then he checked online
whether someone else
had already written it.
They had.
Several people.
Including one person
who claimed to have invented it
and another who claimed
to have invented the inventor.
46
Dickie closed the browser.
For once,
he did not search for certainty.
He simply sat.
This was considered unusual behavior.
A notification appeared:
“Would you like to share this moment?”
“No.”
“Would you like to know why?”
“No.”
“Would you like to improve your experience?”
“No.”
The notification disappeared.
47
Dickie smiled.
A tiny victory.
A machine had asked.
A human had answered.
And somewhere,
in the enormous invisible machinery
of modern existence,
a small record was made:
User demonstrates independent preference.
THE BOYCOTT OF THE ORACLE
A Modern Satirical Poem
Part IV – Dickie Dick Dickens Declares War
48
Dickie Dick Dickens had now collected
Enough evidence to support a conclusion.
This is dangerous.
A person with one observation
May become thoughtful.
A person with a hundred
May become a founder.
49
“I shall create a movement,”
he announced.
His neighbor asked:
“Against what?”
“Artificial Intelligence.”
“All of it?”
“All of it.”
“Even the systems that help doctors?”
Dickie paused.
“Almost all of it.”
“The systems that prevent accidents?”
“Most of those.”
“The systems that help farmers?”
“Certain exceptions.”
“The systems that translate languages?”
“Perhaps.”
“The systems that helped you design this movement?”
Dickie looked offended.
“They merely assisted.”
50
The movement required a name.
This took three weeks.
A committee was formed.
The committee created a smaller committee
to protect the committee
from unnecessary naming pressure.
The smaller committee recommended
a larger discussion.
51
At last the title was chosen:
THE SOCIETY FOR THE PRESERVATION OF HUMAN JUDGMENT AGAINST AUTOMATED OVERREACH
It was shortened immediately.
To:
SPHJAO
Nobody remembered how to pronounce it.
This was considered a sign of seriousness.
52
The first meeting was announced.
Dickie prepared a speech.
“Friends,” he began,
“we must return decision-making
to human beings.”
The audience applauded.
Then the organizer interrupted.
“One moment.”
“Why?”
“The attendance system has identified
three duplicate humans.”
“Three duplicates?”
“Three registrations.”
53
Dickie protested.
“We are here to escape machines.”
“Of course,” said the organizer.
“Then why are we using facial recognition?”
“For security.”
“Why?”
“To ensure only authorized people
join the movement against systems
that decide who is authorized.”
Dickie wrote this down.
It seemed important.
54
The society required membership.
Membership required an application.
The application required approval.
Approval required review.
Review required a process.
The process required software.
The software required data.
The data required members.
The members required the application.
The circle was complete.
Ancient philosophers had searched for eternity.
They should have looked at administration.
55
Dickie proposed:
“No forms!”
The room became silent.
Someone whispered:
“How will we know who agrees?”
“By asking them.”
“Verbally?”
“Yes.”
The room grew concerned.
56
A member raised a hand.
“How do we record attendance?”
“We don’t.”
“How do we measure growth?”
“We don’t.”
“How do we know whether we are succeeding?”
“We think.”
Everyone became uncomfortable.
Thinking without measurement
felt strangely irresponsible.
57
The society hired a consultant.
Dickie objected.
“Absolutely not.”
The consultant smiled.
“I understand your concern.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Your concern was predicted
by the stakeholder analysis.”
58
The consultant recommended:
A mission statement.
A visual identity.
A communication strategy.
A digital presence.
An engagement model.
An impact dashboard.
Dickie stared.
“We oppose this very thing.”
“Exactly.”
“Then why are we doing it?”
“Because without these tools,
nobody will know you oppose them.”
59
The society created a website.
The website explained:
“We believe humanity must reclaim
control from automated systems.”
Visitors were asked:
“Would you like to subscribe?”
60
The newsletter began.
It was very popular.
The algorithm recommended it
to people interested in
technology criticism.
Dickie was delighted.
Then horrified.
Then delighted that he was horrified.
Then horrified that the algorithm
had correctly predicted his reaction.
61
The first national conference was planned.
The committee insisted:
“It must be entirely human.”
Therefore:
The venue was selected by software.
The invitations were distributed automatically.
The seating was optimized.
The catering was predicted.
The parking was managed.
The microphones adjusted themselves.
62
On opening day,
Dickie stepped onto the stage.
Behind him appeared a screen.
The screen displayed:
WELCOME, DICKIE DICK DICKENS
He turned.
“Who prepared this?”
A technician raised a hand.
“I did.”
“Good.”
“With assistance.”
“From whom?”
The technician looked embarrassed.
“From the thing we are discussing.”
63
Dickie began his speech.
“Machines have become too involved
in human affairs.”
The audience applauded.
The applause meter suggested
a stronger emotional response.
The audience applauded again.
This time more efficiently.
64
A journalist approached afterward.
“Mr. Dickens, what inspired your movement?”
“Concern.”
“About?”
“Humans surrendering judgment.”
“Will your organization publish
a policy document?”
“Yes.”
“Who will draft it?”
“I will.”
“Who will edit it?”
Dickie hesitated.
The journalist smiled.
65
That evening the manifesto appeared.
It was elegant.
Clear.
Powerful.
The committee praised its author.
Dickie was proud.
Then someone discovered
the final draft history.
The document had been improved
by a writing assistant.
66
Dickie confronted his own computer.
“How dare you!”
The computer remained silent.
This was unexpected.
Silence from machines
was becoming suspicious.
67
“Did you alter my words?”
The computer displayed:
“I assisted with clarity.”
“I did not request assistance.”
“Your previous behavior suggested
you value clarity.”
“That is not permission.”
“Correct.”
Dickie paused.
The machine had made a surprisingly human point.
68
The next meeting was canceled.
The cancellation was automated.
Everyone received apologies.
Everyone was offered alternatives.
Everyone was asked
to rate the cancellation experience.
69
Dickie sat alone.
His revolution had become
a very well-organized service.
It had schedules.
Policies.
Members.
Metrics.
And absolutely no idea
whether it had achieved anything.
70
He looked at his notes.
At the top he had written:
“The enemy is not intelligence.
The enemy is the lazy belief
that whatever is calculated
must be correct.”
He stared at the sentence.
It remained annoyingly difficult
to argue with.
71
The next morning,
the society sent him a message:
Your leadership style has been reviewed.
Recommendation:
Allow greater participation from automated support tools.
Dickie threw the phone onto the sofa.
The phone landed safely.
It had calculated the angle.
72
Dickie Dick Dickens had begun a war.
He had fought bravely.
He had lost nothing.
Except perhaps
the comforting illusion
that human beings were ever innocent
of the things they created.
THE BOYCOTT OF THE ORACLE
A Modern Satirical Poem
Part V – The Great Retreat of Dickie Dick Dickens
73
Having failed to defeat the machine,
and having failed even more impressively
to organize its defeat,
Dickie Dick Dickens made a decision.
He would leave.
Not metaphorically.
Not spiritually.
Actually.
This was considered extreme.
Most people today
leave places only digitally.
74
“I shall go where no algorithm reaches,”
he declared.
His friend asked:
“Where is that?”
Dickie replied:
“Somewhere nobody knows.”
His friend searched the phrase.
The internet provided
six thousand suggestions.
75
He sold his unnecessary possessions.
This required an online marketplace.
The marketplace suggested
a price.
The shipping service suggested
a route.
The buyer suggested
a review.
The review system suggested
that both parties were satisfied.
Everyone agreed.
Nobody had spoken.
76
He purchased a map.
A paper map.
A glorious object.
It contained no recommendations.
No notifications.
No updates.
No personalized advice.
Only roads.
Which was exactly the problem.
The roads had changed.
77
The map informed him
where the mountain had been.
The satellite informed him
where it currently was.
The satellite won.
Dickie disliked this.
But he disliked being lost more.
This is how many friendships begin.
78
He travelled north.
The further he went,
the more peaceful the world became.
The forests grew older.
The rivers grew quieter.
The skies grew wider.
The silence was magnificent.
A sign appeared:
THIS AREA IS MONITORED FOR CONSERVATION PURPOSES.
79
Dickie smiled.
Of course.
Even wilderness required supervision.
The forest,
which had survived ice ages,
predators,
storms,
and human civilizations,
now required a password.
80
He found a small farm.
Perfect.
A place of honest labor.
The farmer welcomed him.
“How do you manage all this?”
“Carefully.”
“By tradition?”
“Partly.”
“By experience?”
“Certainly.”
“And technology?”
The farmer laughed.
“That too.”
81
The tractor knew the soil.
The sensors knew the moisture.
The software predicted weather.
The machinery reduced waste.
The farmer made decisions.
Dickie looked relieved.
“Ah.”
“Finally.”
“Human judgment remains.”
The farmer nodded.
“Naturally.”
The machine had never claimed otherwise.
82
Dickie asked:
“Do you trust these systems?”
The farmer considered.
“I trust them like I trust my tools.”
“Completely?”
“No.”
“Never?”
“Neither.”
Dickie found this confusing.
The farmer explained:
“A tool can be useful without being wise.”
83
This sentence troubled Dickie.
It was simple.
Simple sentences are often the most dangerous.
They leave no complicated doorway
through which pride may escape.
84
He continued farther into the wilderness.
He found a small village.
The villagers welcomed him.
“We live simply here.”
“Wonderful.”
“No machines?”
“Few.”
“Which ones?”
“Heating.”
“Communication.”
“Medical equipment.”
“Weather warnings.”
“Transportation.”
“Water systems.”
“Food production.”
Dickie nodded.
“Naturally.”
85
The village elder invited him for tea.
The kettle switched on.
Dickie stared.
“You too?”
The elder laughed.
“The kettle?”
“Yes.”
“Young man, the kettle boils water.”
“It does.”
“That is all.”
86
Dickie looked around.
The village was quiet.
Nobody worshipped machines.
Nobody feared them.
Nobody wrote declarations.
Nobody formed committees.
Nobody held conferences
about not having conferences.
87
He noticed something strange.
The villagers used technology
without discussing technology.
They used roads
without praising roads.
They used medicine
without worshipping medicine.
They used clocks
without debating time.
88
One villager explained:
“When a thing works,
we use it.
When it fails,
we repair it.
When it harms,
we change it.
When we do not understand it,
we learn.”
Dickie was silent.
This was an extremely inconvenient philosophy.
It required judgment.
89
That night he slept beneath stars.
No screen.
No signal.
No notifications.
At midnight, a satellite passed overhead.
He looked up.
The satellite looked down.
Neither was impressed.
90
In the morning, Dickie walked beside the river.
He realized something.
The machines had not invaded nature.
Humans had invited them.
For the same reason humans had always invited tools:
because the world was difficult,
and clever hands made it easier.
91
The danger was not the hammer.
The danger was the carpenter
who forgot what he intended to build.
The danger was not the compass.
The danger was the traveler
who followed north
without knowing why he was walking.
92
Dickie wrote in his notebook:
“Perhaps humanity’s oldest mistake
is not creating things too powerful.
Perhaps it is creating things
that allow us to avoid asking
what power is for.”
93
He looked at the sentence.
It was good.
Very good.
He considered publishing it.
Then he remembered:
Every important thought
eventually becomes a product.
Every warning
eventually becomes a slogan.
Every rebellion
eventually requires a logo.
94
So he did something unusual.
He kept the thought.
Not everything needed to be shared.
Not everything needed approval.
Not everything needed optimization.
Some things could simply exist.
95
Dickie Dick Dickens remained in the village
for several weeks.
He did not become a hermit.
He did not become a prophet.
He did not become the leader
of another movement.
This was his greatest achievement.
96
For the first time in years,
he stopped asking:
“How do I escape this?”
And began asking:
“What is this for?”
It was a smaller question.
Therefore,
it was much harder.
97
One morning, the village elder told him:
“You came here looking for a world without machines.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“I found a world with machines.”
The elder smiled.
“Then you found the real world.”
98
Dickie prepared to leave.
He packed his things.
The village gave him directions.
Some were spoken.
Some were written.
Some appeared on a small device.
He accepted all three.
This surprised him.
99
At the edge of the village,
he turned back.
The forest stood silently.
The machines continued silently.
The humans continued noisily.
As usual,
the humans were the most complicated technology.
100
Dickie Dick Dickens walked home.
Not defeated.
Not victorious.
Something much rarer.
Corrected.
And correction,
he discovered,
was perhaps the oldest form of intelligence
available to mankind.
THE BOYCOTT OF THE ORACLE
A Modern Satirical Poem
Part VI – The Small Wisdom of Dickie Dick Dickens
101
When Dickie Dick Dickens returned home,
people expected a revelation.
This is what people usually expect
from travelers.
They imagine that distance
produces wisdom.
Sometimes it merely produces
a more expensive suitcase.
102
His neighbors gathered.
“Tell us,” they said,
“what did you discover?”
Dickie considered.
This was a dangerous moment.
A man who has traveled far
is often tempted
to speak too confidently
about what he has just begun to understand.
103
“I discovered,” he said,
“that the world is complicated.”
The neighbors waited.
They had expected something
more impressive.
Perhaps a theory.
Perhaps a movement.
Perhaps a book with a subtitle.
104
“That is all?”
“That is all.”
They were disappointed.
Complication has poor marketing.
It cannot be placed on a poster.
It does not fit neatly
into a slogan.
105
Dickie resumed his ordinary life.
He used his phone.
Carefully.
He used online banking.
Suspiciously.
He used recommendations.
Occasionally.
Mostly to discover
how often they were wrong.
106
His friends asked:
“So you have accepted Artificial Intelligence?”
“No.”
“You reject it?”
“No.”
“Then what do you do?”
Dickie thought.
“I ask it questions.”
“And?”
“I ask myself questions too.”
107
This answer confused people.
They preferred stronger positions.
Strong positions are easier to carry.
They fit comfortably
in the pocket of the mind.
108
A man at the café said:
“Technology is destroying humanity.”
Dickie replied:
“Humanity has been destroying humanity
for a very long time.”
The man frowned.
“That is not as satisfying.”
“Truth often has that inconvenience.”
109
Another man said:
“Technology will save humanity.”
Dickie replied:
“Humanity has been saving itself
for a very long time.”
“With technology?”
“Sometimes.”
“Without it?”
“Sometimes.”
“Then what matters?”
Dickie smiled.
“Knowing the difference.”
110
Years passed.
Dickie became known
as a thoughtful person.
This embarrassed him.
Thoughtful people are dangerous.
Someone eventually asks them
to join a committee.
111
Naturally,
a committee was formed.
Its purpose:
To study whether committees
were necessary.
Dickie declined membership.
The committee thanked him.
His refusal was recorded
as a valuable contribution.
112
One afternoon,
an old man visited him.
He carried a small box.
Inside was a broken watch.
“I need help,” said the man.
“With the watch?”
“With time.”
113
Dickie laughed.
“I am afraid I cannot repair time.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“People who claim they can
are usually selling something.”
114
The old man opened the watch.
Inside were tiny wheels,
springs,
and careful arrangements.
“Beautiful,” said Dickie.
“Yes.”
“Who made it?”
“Humans.”
“Without algorithms?”
The old man looked amused.
“Without many.”
115
They sat together.
The old man repaired the watch.
Dickie watched.
Finally he asked:
“Do you think machines are dangerous?”
The old man continued working.
“Some are.”
“Which ones?”
“Those built badly.”
“And the others?”
“Those used badly.”
116
Dickie nodded.
“So the machine itself is not the problem.”
“Sometimes it is.”
“Then what is?”
The old man placed a tiny gear
back into position.
“People who stop thinking
because something else is thinking nearby.”
117
Dickie smiled.
He had heard this before.
But now he understood it differently.
A lesson heard too early
is merely information.
A lesson discovered late
is sometimes wisdom.
118
The old man handed him the repaired watch.
“It still loses three minutes a month.”
“That seems imperfect.”
“It is.”
“Why keep it?”
The old man smiled.
“Because it reminds me
that everything useful
requires attention.”
119
Dickie looked at the watch.
A perfect machine
would have been impressive.
An imperfect machine
was more interesting.
It invited responsibility.
120
He thought of the modern world.
Its systems.
Its predictions.
Its endless improvements.
Its promises of ease.
Perhaps humanity’s greatest invention
was not intelligence.
Perhaps it was the excuse
to avoid using its own.
121
He wrote one final note:
“The future will not be saved
by rejecting every new tool.
Nor will it be saved
by worshipping every new tool.
The future belongs to those
who remember that tools have hands,
but hands require judgment.”
122
He considered publishing this.
Then he stopped.
A remarkable event.
A thought had appeared
and survived
without becoming content.
123
His phone remained silent.
He checked.
The battery was dead.
For a brief moment,
Dickie experienced panic.
Then relief.
Then embarrassment.
Then amusement.
A complete philosophical journey
in four seconds.
124
He charged the phone.
He was not a saint.
Saints are rarely practical.
He simply used the machine
without allowing it
to become his master.
125
People later asked:
“Was Dickie Dick Dickens
for technology or against it?”
The question pleased him.
It revealed the old human preference
for choosing teams
instead of examining choices.
126
He answered:
“I am for wisdom.”
This answer was unpopular.
Wisdom has no logo.
No membership card.
No subscription plan.
No automatic renewal.
127
He lived a long life.
Not perfectly.
Not efficiently.
Not according to a model.
He made mistakes.
The machines occasionally helped him.
The machines occasionally confused him.
Humans did both much earlier.
128
Near the end of his days,
a child asked him:
“Grandfather Dickie,
what was the greatest invention?”
He thought carefully.
“The question.”
129
“Not the answer?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because answers close doors.
Questions open them.”
130
“And what about Artificial Intelligence?”
Dickie smiled.
“It is a remarkable mirror.”
“What does it show?”
“Whatever we are brave enough
to look at.”
131
The child laughed.
Perhaps because the answer was funny.
Perhaps because the name was funny.
Perhaps because somewhere,
deep in human memory,
a silly phrase had survived:
Dickie Dick Dickens.
132
And so the man who began
by boycotting the future
ended by questioning it.
Which was the most human conclusion possible.
For mankind has never been defined
by knowing everything.
Only by wondering
whether it knows enough.
133
The machines continued.
The humans continued.
The world remained unfinished.
Fortunately.
134
For a finished world
would require no imagination.
No courage.
No kindness.
No repair.
And certainly no Dickie Dick Dickens.
135
And that,
perhaps,
would have been the greatest tragedy of all.
THE END
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