Deluge 8

A supercomputer in your pocket More and more sentences predicted, destinies auto-completed Gaining the inexact grace of global genius inventing the future not predicting it (we would like to think) to place our fingers upon any part of the cornucopian encyclopaedias open to us as we close the ability to learn Gathering knowledge faster than wisdom Falsehoods proved, facts disputed; artificial stupidity Rushing towards the singularity? We know not whether these intelligences will be butlers, dogs or gods Beating us at chess, at Go Someday perhaps at soccer Not winding up the hill, but cutting across the path Where we cannot inspect the entrails. Can we? I'm a frayed not So we wait to see if a hyper-human psychopath Gets there before us to immortality, bliss and divinity (maybe watching soap operas all day) Helping us, enhanced chimpanzees to oversized ants Making us useless, individually irrelevant, or further forming upgraded elites Meanwhile our biochemical algorithms Throw away experiences, keep some samples Stir them with media, daydreams and false friends Build the story Invent freedom for us; tell us what to love, to hate, to die for A delusion of meaning A deluge of wonders