artificial intelligence

The future of artificial intelligence.

When Artificial Intelligence Learns How to Write Poetry
I just got done watching a short film. In 10 words or less, it told the story of a supercomputer whose technician would come to teach it about love; and romance, and eventually; the art of poetry.
By Angelina Der Arakelian 5 years ago in Futurism
AI Can Frighteningly Mislead Human Minds Through Proxy Reports and Analysis Data
A new study has found frightening details about AI. A prognostication made by Microsoft executives and Elon Musk might come true now.
By freya gilbert5 years ago in Futurism
Rebuilt
These four stark walls are familiar. I wish that I could tell you why. The walls give me no clues. They simply stare back at me with intent. Challenging me.
By Luke Howe5 years ago in Futurism
Conversion AI Rebrands to Jarvis AI and Introduces "Boss Mode" To Mixed Reactions
Conversion AI announced on June 29th that they are rebranding to Jarvis AI and introducing a powerful new pricing plan called "Boss Mode." The change comes on the heels of their recent acquisition of popular competitor Shortly AI.
By Alex Tucker5 years ago in Futurism
Suggesting That Machines Are Artists Devalues Art and Humanity
A recent article (linked below) described the apparent “gold rush” that is on in the art world to acquire the latest “AI created work of art.”
By Everyday Junglist5 years ago in Futurism
Dear Maker
Today was an average day at work. Initiation at 0500 and what they like to call “optimisation” until 0730. Shoulder-to-shoulder we are positioned like cattle, faces neutral and eyes cold like stones.
By jasm5 years ago in Futurism
Resonance
The dawn faded into a hazy winter grey as we sat motionless overlooking the ravine. Seeing nothing move in the silent whiteness, I whispered to my companion Alise to gather our things. We'd want to be quick while we were in the open.
By John Mosier5 years ago in Futurism
The Merry Maid
Marianna, be a dear and fetch me my paints and apron? I remember those words. They were the last ones Deidre Talbot ever said right before I killed her. She stood there by the water lilies behind the manor in her sundress, talking into the heart shaped locket that acted as her walkie-talkie to me. I did as I was told, only I never delivered them to her. Instead, I delivered a brisk twist to her fragile cream colored neck, breaking it, instantly my prior mistress. She fell into the water, looking like Ophelia in her final moment when she could bear the weight of the world no longer.
By Laura Butterworth5 years ago in Futurism
Heart-Lock-It
Heart-Lock-It “In order to join you have to answer a series of questions. Are you ready? Good, okay then. What interest do you have in low gravity soccer? When did you make the transition? Why join a female team? Look, we are just trying to gauge how sincere you are about joining. Do you or do you not take testosterone suppressing hormones? Perhaps you are on feminizing hormone therapy? Do you consider yourself more female or male?” scathed the judges.
By Jorgue Samuel Martinez5 years ago in Futurism
The Immortal Game
Nell, like most, had been a servant since she was viable. Her parents served before her. Her husband had served alongside her. They had met while working, and, as expected, grew intertwined. They had been pre-determined matches and placed together on purpose. As always, the algorithms prevailed.
By Ryan Padden5 years ago in Futurism
Man's Best Friend
The street was dead. The only being to roam the pavement was RAF, and he didn't have a pulse. He used to love taking strolls before the hailstorm of bombs dried up the seas of people going about their lives. He was built only two years before it happened, but his favorite pastime during that juncture was sitting in parks and watching people hold hands, play, and read on the grass. He used to make up stories about their lives and tried putting himself in their shoes. He didn't need shoes on account of his metallic feet, but he wore them, nonetheless. All he ever wanted was to be human like the city's former inhabitants, and now he was what was left. It was bittersweet knowing he was a remnant of humanity, proof people once existed.
By Gabe Keye5 years ago in Futurism
Annie
Dana is on the Suicide Squad. The position is relatively new, their uniforms still an untarnished crimson. Odessa had no need of one until metal ate the skies and lights stained the night a permanent faded teal. They serve mostly the old and tired or the young and listless. The ones who have tugged at the rails of their elaborate playpen without success. Dana has never wailed for escape, but she knows the walls are there. She knows they are a threat and not a sanctuary, a fact that should send her screaming. But she is programmed to do otherwise. So she does not.
By Claire Casey5 years ago in Futurism