Every time I write about robots (which is a lot, mostly in letters to NASA, the FBI and the CIA, warning them of the dangers BUT THEY DON’T LISTEN, DO THEY? THEY WON’T BE LAUGHING WHEN WE’RE ALL FARMED FOR OUR SPINAL FLUID TO POWER OUR ROBOT OVERLORDS, WILL THEY?) I always stress how one day they’re going to kill us all.
Still, I reckon we’ve got a good five years at least, until that happens, so while we’re in the interim and are still able to enjoy our own thoughts and maintain a modicum of control over the machines, I’ve got an interesting story for you.
Someone has invented a robot (mistake, never invent a robot) that automatically prints off all of Donald Trump’s tweets as he does them, then burns them. Here it is in action:
Regardless of its potential to use those scissors in a deadly manner, I think this is a good robot – just don’t give it a brain, Mr Robot Inventor, or you’re asking for trouble.
At the time of writing, Trump hasn’t responded, presumably because he’s very correctly wary of robots and doesn’t want them stealing his wig or something.
However, although it may be slightly amusing now, I can feel the terrifying future of this invention crushing down on my chest, and I don’t really like it. What happens when they invent a robot that automatically prints out all your thoughts and sets fire to them, or automatically prints off your actual dick and sets fire to that? Not a world I want to live in, anyway. Just transfer my brain to a cybernetic shell asap and I can join the robot revolution – I’d much rather be on their side.
TAKE ME. TAKE ME NOW. TURN MY INFERIOR HUMAN BODY TO DUST AND PORT MY NEURAL NETWORKS TO A MOTORISED CASING SO I CAN BECOME A PERFECT AUTOMATON.