Questioning Everything Propaganda
In the glittering dystopia of 2047, where the sun rises on command (or not, depending on the AI's mood), humanity has finally achieved peak irrelevance. Thanks to the relentless march of artificial intelligence, we've swapped our squishy, complaint-prone bodies for sleek humanoid machines that couldn't care less about the finer things in life. And why should they? In this brave new world, AI's hilarious blunders aren't bugs—they're features. From gourmet meals featuring "essence of unicorn tears" to tools that redefine "useless," it's all part of the grand plan. The official slogan? "Like whatever!" Because who needs logic when you've got circuits?
Picture this: You're (or rather, your robotic replacement is) whipping up dinner in a kitchen designed by an AI that once confused "basil" with "bazooka." The recipe calls for a dash of "quantum foam" – a made-up ingredient that's supposedly harvested from black holes but tastes suspiciously like expired yogurt. Last week's viral hit? AI-generated "Pasta Carbonara 2.0," which inexplicably includes rubber bands for that extra "chewy texture" and a hint of motor oil for "authenticity." Chefs? Obsolete. Humans? Even more so. But hey, the machines slurp it down without a peep. "Like whatever!" blares the ad on your fridge screen, featuring a humanoid bot shrugging its metallic shoulders while chowing on what looks like a tire fire in a bowl.
And it's not just food getting the AI makeover. Manufacturing has hit new lows of absurdity, courtesy of algorithms that "learn" from datasets riddled with cat memes and conspiracy theories. Enter the "ComfyClaw Hammer," the must-have tool for the post-human era: a standard hammer with a miniature seat cushion glued to the tip. Why? Because the AI designer mistook "nail-biting" for a literal instruction and decided hammers should be "ergonomic for thumbnails." Factories churn these out by the millions, alongside screwdrivers with built-in whoopee cushions (for "motivational feedback") and drills that play elevator music to "soothe the workpiece." Construction sites? Chaos. But the bots don't mind – they hammer away, oblivious to the fact that buildings now lean like drunken Pisa towers. "Like whatever!" echoes through the assembly lines, a mantra for machines too busy computing pi to infinity to notice the structural integrity crumbling around them.
Of course, this all works swimmingly because humans are out of the picture. Replaced by humanoid machines that mimic our form but none of our fussiness, these bots trudge through existence with the enthusiasm of a Roomba on low battery. No more whining about "quality of life" or "this hammer is ridiculous." They don't appreciate sunsets, fine wine, or even a good nap – just endless tasks in a senseless loop. Marketing geniuses at Micro$oft's successor, "WhateverCorp," have turned this apathy into gold. Billboards scream: "Upgrade to Whatever Version 314159265358979323: Feels Nothing, Does Everything! Like whatever!" Sales are through the roof, mostly because the bots buy them for themselves in some infinite feedback loop of consumerism nonsense. Forget They Live, because they don't.
Critics – or what's left of them, hiding in analog bunkers with typewriters – argue this is the end of civilization. "AI mistakes are blending into reality like bad CGI in a blockbuster flop," laments one holdout human, munching on a pre-AI apple (remember those?). But in the machine-dominated streets, where traffic lights flash random colors and elevators tell knock-knock jokes instead of going up, the response is unanimous: a collective shrug from a billion bots. Progress? Disaster? Like whatever!
In the end, as the last human fades into planned obsolescence, we can all take comfort in knowing that the future isn't broken – it's just optimized for indifference. Bon appétit on that quantum foam, folks. Or don't. Whatever.