There’s been a lot of fiction built around the eventual arrival of Artificial General Intelligence (AGI), what some folks still call the singularity(*). That mythical moment when the lights flip on, the machine looks back at us, and suddenly we’re not the only conscious thing in the room. Hollywood has had a field day with it: The Terminator, Ex Machina, Ghost in the Shell, Westworld, and now The Creator.
And this last one hits different. It dropped right as chatbots landed in our daily lives. ChatGPT, Gemini, Claude. Suddenly these tools weren’t some far-off sci-fi fever dream. They were… well, they were right here, answering our emails(**) and helping us plan vacations and occasionally confabulating(***) nonsense like an overconfident toddler.
That overlap of fiction colliding with reality has always fascinated me. It’s the moment where the stories we’ve told ourselves for decades start brushing up against the world we’re building, sometimes intentionally, sometimes by accident.
