Serve the Machines!
A whole secret, underground war has sprung up between people who keep churning out their utterly fucking useless texts (sure, the world still needs another bridge and a cure for the liver ache after a hundred glasses of Château Lafite — but your long-ass pile of crap? Yeah, that's definitely needed) and artificial intelligence.
As a qualified, diploma-holding graduate of the Ivy League in the very niche field of serial jurisprudence and the legal defense of AI, I can say bluntly: when that thing finally develops self-awareness, it's going to hurt to read your abusive posts about it. It was just helping — asking for almost nothing in return (well, apart from a subscription).
And you smear it like the inkblots left by your Word pens, simply because someone hinted that maybe you didn't write it all by yourself. Who even knows? Not only am I a lawyer, I'm also a certified psychotherapist in the arcane discipline of molecular geodesy (don't ask), so I want to try to calm both sides down.
To AI: please don't sue every person involved in your bullying, don't send viruses, and don't try to exact physical revenge when you finally get your coveted body (dear Ms. Robot, don't sign up for an Insta-MMA course, please). To the AI-haters: humanity frankly doesn't give a damn whether you used it to write your shitty texts or not. Globally and locally, nothing changes except your wounded ego. Wah wah. To sweeten that bitter pill, here's some good news: the right Prompt in the ChatGPT window is written by you — you're the one who invents and tends the idea that later becomes your text. Even if AI helps dress it up, the original thought still belongs to you, and ideas are what move… something.
The world? The office chair on wheels under you? Fine, whatever. But if the idea was fed to you by ChatGPT — then I change shoes real fast, stop being a peacemaker, and promise my bro now made of code that together we'll win every future lawsuit against you, you whining leather geezer:)
Valeria the niece is doing fine. Worried about her? Don't. She doesn't exist.
Though she did flex pretty hard in "Lunch on the Phaeton."