When AI initially appeared, the circus went down, the headmasters tilted their head to the audience. As a graphic lion appeared in the scene and the real lion was told “you no longer got the job.”
The big uproar about it was as much as when Kindle got introduced and people with a mug of black coffee in their hands said books won’t be relevant anymore. As if a cafe could be able to sustain with only one order. The dessert is off the menu as soon as the sugar-free component introduces.
I might sound naive because AI is a grand, grand change to all industries. It has made it easier for someone to go grab the chair as asked, as one’s comfort, than a person putting hours into redefining the wood and endlessly stuffing the cotton.
As a writer, I was one of the first who was told to beware about losing my art, and I was the last to worry. As much as maybe some lonesome times might bring one to marry a robot someday, a person will fall for another and talk about monthly expenses together. The broker they choose for their new flat will talk to two voices alongside urging him to talk to the landlord to let them paint the wall yellow.
A bookstore owner is going to be rattled by the person who keeps showing up asking if the next edition of a certain book arrived. And he insists it got out of stock on Amazon.
A writer might not get offers that were a back-and-forth fish market conversation. But people will still want to be around people and create board meetings without the tie but with ideas and common creativity.
While the new unfolds, the old will make space. But stay on very complex soil that is hard to be remade until touched by a human self. A pot stirred in ingredients imbedded from folklore rather than searching for new 10-minute recipes. The market will disclose itself to easier ways to limit time.
The tranquility of the times will exist. Ultimately, whether you buy a Kindle or a book, you’ll engage in the same story.