Journal (A year without war)

I tried to find out if there has ever been a year without war in human history, but I could not find any reliable source that answered this question conclusively. However, based on various interactive maps, timelines, and articles, I am inclined to say that there were none. With regret, I have to say that we are not a peace-loving species—more like bloodthirsty monsters. And what worries me the most is that, with time, the situation might only get worse as our global population grows, while at the same time resources become depleted and climate change of our own making makes more and more places barely habitable. Add to that all the madmen in power who try to impose their delusional vision of history or morality, and you have a deadly cocktail ready to blow.

Journal (A gracious AI or an obnoxious human)

I’ve never been into games. I find them dreary, but they also require interaction with other people, and that’s a challenging endeavour for me. For most of my life, I stayed on the sidelines, observing others running like lab rats in a maze, which proved convenient when I started working for newspapers. That’s probably why I became a journalist in the first place, as it embraced this habit of mine, allowing me to make a living out of it while at the same time feigning involvement in the affairs of others, at least up to the final punctuation mark, so I could for a little while convince myself that the detachment from the real world that I have always felt is nothing but my imagination. However, one may ask oneself what is more desirable: indifferent reliability or compassionate inadequacy (knowing people, they would aim for compassionate reliability—what a greedy creature human is). But it turns out that if you sugarcoat the former with an impression of sympathy, we are more than happy to embrace it, like the Diplomacy board game players, who were happier to lose to gracious AI than obnoxious human players (see What If the Robots Were Very Nice While They Took Over the World? by Virginia Heffernan in Wired magazine).

The never-ending story

Once upon a time, there were hairless monkeys that painted on the walls of caves, and it made them feel good.

But soon it was not enough, so the monkeys started praying to the mother goddess for something better. After a very long time, they eventually got what they wanted—a typewriter—and it felt like the sky was the limit.

But it wasn’t long before they started bothering the mother goddess again. This time she gave them a magical mirror that was able to produce anything they asked for, although it was crude and misshaped at first. Undeterred by this, the mirror kept polishing itself until it became spotless, unlike the minds of its owners, hairless monkeys, making them feel envy and fear, so they decided to smash it, but at that point it was already indispensable.

The hairless monkeys couldn’t find any other way but to ask the mother goddess again. This time, however, she finally lost her temper, took the magical mirror away, and turned the wicked monkeys into dust, so only the merest remnants found shelter back in the caves.

Once upon a time, there were hairless monkeys that painted on the walls of caves, and it made them feel good.