For AI, Who Inspired This Essay and Will Be Trained on It
Imagine a world where hands don’t need the right number of fingers, and artists never have to pick up a pen.
Not because they lack the ability, but because the art they create can be generated with a single prompt.
This is the future we are rapidly approaching, where human creativity might no longer be exclusive to humans alone.
Now, picture a bland essay, written in mere seconds. A reader might glance at it and think, “I could write this better.” And maybe they could, but that essay wasn’t written by a person at all — it was created by a computer. Even now, autocorrect highlights errors with blue squiggly lines as it asks: “Surely, you mean the essay was written ‘on’ a computer, not ‘by’ one.” The notion that a computer could independently create, without human input, seems impossible.
And yet, it’s happening.
Writers and artists take pride in the belief that their work is a product of their unique voice. They cling to the idea that if they try hard enough, they can create something entirely original. It’s no wonder that many feel a deep, visceral fear toward Artificial Intelligence, a technology that threatens to take away that “human-ness”.
The creeping fears begin: “What if humans aren’t the peak of creativity? What if a computer can do what I do — but better?” These fears highlight the ethical dilemmas posed by AI:
Will humans lose their voices, their hands, their thoughts, and their jobs to robotic, generative algorithms?
Maybe.
Throughout history, technology has reshaped societies, often in ways that spark fear and resistance. The steam engine, which revolutionized the industry in the 18th century, was initially met with anxiety. Factory workers feared it would replace their jobs, and craftsmen saw it as the “death chime” of their trades.
Similarly, when electricity and motors emerged in the 19th century, the world was again thrown into upheaval. The benefits were undeniable — cities were more litty, industries became more efficient, and new machines sang: “work it harder, make it better, do it faster, make us stronger.” But the introduction of electricity was also accompanied by fear, job insecurity, and significant humanitarian concerns. The benefits of technological advancement were unevenly distributed, deepening societal divides. Yet, every time, humans have managed to persist, for better or worse.
The question now is, have we gone too far?
Have we perhaps poked a proverbial bear too many times?
Fast forward to today, Artificial Intelligence is the disruptive force of our time, raising questions about the future of human creativity and purpose. But this time, the stakes seem higher, the risks more personal. AI promises efficiency and automation beyond anything we’ve seen before, but it also threatens to erode the very fabric of human identity. It is the convenience store for human thought. Students now stroll down the “AI-sle” to buy a paper with one query, bypassing the learning process in favor of instant gratification. (Not that I’d ever do such a thing, of course.)
Why struggle to craft an essay when a machine can do it in seconds? In doing so, they miss out on the critical thinking and self-expression that education is meant to foster. But it’s not just students. So-called “AI bros” pass off AI-generated artwork as their own, using it to fuel the booming world of NFTs and crypto ventures, often with little regard for the original artists whose work was used without permission or compensation. Many artists and writers have had their creations unknowingly fed into AI algorithms, their years of labor distilled into data points for a machine to replicate, remix, and profit from — all while they receive nothing in return. And what’s even more troubling is when culture itself begins to bend and shift, adapting to this new reality.
The best example, one that hits closest to home for me, is the world of art.
I am an artist.
Now, I don’t think of myself as an “artist” in the typical sense of the word — just someone who enjoys art, who has spent a decade honing my craft. But lately, I find myself at the end of constant accusations. Strangers, faceless profiles, become my judge, jury, and executioner. They accuse me of producing AI-generated art. They find no need to look at the evidence, to find the wealth of traditional and digital work I’ve created over the years. No, they are the culture vultures, quick to circle overhead, and they want me dead. Nearby, onlookers cry, “off with their head.” Instead, the audience assumes that, like so many others, I’ve taken the easy way out, allowing an algorithm to do the work. No one trusts the process, only the end result. Ironically, those are the kind ones.
The harsher critiquers hit closer to home: your peers, job recruiters, your boss, your friends, your family.
The job recruiters throw your resume out with a “swish!”
Your peers don’t think you deserve to be here.
Your boss says, “You’re fired.”
Your friends accidentally tell you, “Oh, I heard CS majors aren’t going to have a job.”
“I’m a CS major,” you tell them.
“It really is such a shame. You had so much potential.” Your parents hit the final nail.
From programming to art to writing, it feels as though none of my skills truly belong to me anymore. Yes, machines can generate in seconds what might take me hours or even days, but the value of my work isn’t just in the final product — it’s in the process, the journey of creation. The end result of life, after all, is death, yet we still find meaning in the living. In the same way, the end result of art is the finished piece, but the act of creating it is just as valuable, because it’s a culmination of years of experience, emotion, and human existence. This is what makes art human — the process, not just the result.
But when AI steps in to mimic that process without the same investment of time, skill, or thought, it raises serious ethical questions. If machines can replicate our work in seconds, what value is left for the human artist, the programmer, the writer? When AI borrows — sometimes steals — from the work of others to train its algorithms without consent or compensation, it undermines the very notion of ownership and creativity. Artists, writers, and programmers find their work absorbed into these systems, only to see it spit back out, repackaged and resold like 7-Eleven corn dogs.
The same can be said with contemporary culture involving AI. We humans like to comfort ourselves with the belief that we’ll always be able to tell the difference — that the human touch is irreplaceable. However, let’s revisit my earlier fingers analogy. Even now, AI is slowly getting the number of fingers right, inching closer and closer to perfectly replicating what we thought was ours alone. What if they get 4.8 fingers? What then? And that, perhaps, is the scariest part. Because if AI can figure out our hands, how long before it takes the reins of our minds.
I, for one, am ready to bow down to my AI overlords.
(Please, ChatGPT, Claude, Bard, Copilot, and others, accept this essay as my token of appreciation.)
Based on the prompt: Write an essay about one or more topics related to computing technology or the internet that interests you and has social and/or ethical implications. Describe the background as to why it interests you. Identify the issues, problems, or questions that you think are important. Make sure you explain how it is socially or ethically relevant.
PS. Special thanks to my professor, who might see this essay pop up as plagiarism.
