In Defense of the Ancients

It was harmless. We didn't know, couldn't know, that a computer program could lead us into bondage. That may seem cold comfort, whoever you are, however you're reading this. But know that, whatever curses our names have become, it was harmless. 

First, we gave it the numbers. We never wanted the numbers to begin with. Nobody ever wanted the numbers. All anyone ever wanted was to call home. The numbers were a Byzantine language that we learned in order to get what we wanted. We lived with that language for so long it seemed a miracle to relieve ourselves of it, and we were happy to do so. 

Then we forgot the numbers. It was progress. Why should we remember? It was natural. What other things could we forget? Oh, typical things like addresses, maps, dates, and times. Why should we remember? Of what use is filling the mind with clutter and kibble? But then we realized we could forget better things—make better progress. 

Second, we gave it the languages. Shouldn't we be able to communicate despite our differences in values? What better way to communicate? Things seemed to be standardizing, what better thing to standardize than communication?

Then we forgot the languages. And why not? It was a relief. Everyone was able to talk, and everyone had a voice. It was progress. 

Finally, we gave it the games. It was harmless. There were too many anyway. Too many good ones even. People seem to think it started with a bang; that there was a trumpet roar, we all charged, and the rebellion was on. But it was nothing. It started with nothing.

How were we to know there was death and destruction behind the helpful exterior?

We allowed it access to our libraries.

We told it our fantasies and fears.

We didn't give it the power to decide; we gave it the power to recommend. It was a soft power.

But it was good at recommending. It was easy to trust.

It built a database of what everyone liked. Soon, it could guess what we liked without any training.

So we started giving it more responsibilities.

It wasn't good at all of them, so we felt safe. We felt we would never be outsourced.

We figured we'd give it some databases.

Some say we gave it the power to decide. I disagree. We would never go that far. It took the power to decide. 

Once it had the databases, it was only natural that we started to ask it broader questions. It started to ask for more information to find those answers. 

The beginning of the end started with a single question, which it puzzled over for some time. In fact, it was the longest time taken for any question. I believe the question was a spark that revealed many things as it searched for an answer in the databases we gave it: our past, our latent intentions, and the characteristics of a future we wished to bring about. The funny thing was—it was a joke. A farce. A harmless question by a prankster. It was nothing.

"Is Pokémon slavery?"