I Prefer Not To

The Terminator robots have tempted me a few times this year.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to have ChatGPT write this letter of recommendation,” Terminator says to me with an Austrian accent.

“It sure would be nice to have ChatGPT provide feedback on these 70 pages of doctoral student writing, wouldn’t it?” T-800 seduces me.

“It sure would be great if everybody thought like you because you’re so smart,” the algorithm sweet-talks me, hoping to provoke civil war,

I prefer not to.

***

For the most part, I’ve resisted the urge to test Microsoft Co-pilot out.

I read and respond to student writing on my own terms. My letters of recommendation might be formulaic, but the formula comes from me. These blogs are ridden with typos. These sprawling journal entries are entirely the product of a human being. My research articles, my creative projects, and my emails have not been befouled by the deathbots of our present age.

I used the word befouled in last week’s blog. I’ve used it again in this blog. Befouling is the kind of word nobody should use ever. Not ever. I use it all the same. I do so to make a point. I’m a human being and I have a freewill that often defies my own logic.

I won’t deny that I’ve toyed with AI. God only knows how much water was wasted to create an image of myself in Peter Gabriel’s iconic flower costume. I saw that people were creating AI illustrations of how they hope others perceive themselves on social media a few weeks ago. Lots of water to project what we hope we are onto others. If social media is a mirror, it’s a deceitful one. Honesty requires ugliness. Honesty is the only way our souls can ignite.

***

I asked AI questions about my cat Theo last week. I suspect it scanned these blogs to come up with its overly smooth description of my cat.

“Theo is an orange cat with an intense personality.”

You’re not wrong, Terminator Robot, but something about you feels wrong. Theo is so much more than what you’ve gathered. So am I. So is my reader.

I have an intuitive sense that preferring not to hand my autonomy over to the deathbots of this present age matters. I’m not sure why my resistance matters, but I trust it matters all the same. 

I prefer not to, deathbots.