What makes us Human

Composed and performed by Florian Uwiß

I was to take part in a story slam,

So I needed to come up with a stratagem.

Technology was the guideline, but I was watching from the side-line,

Searching through a surge of ideas ‘till I Find mine.

But my mind was blank like alpine snow.

So to be relieved, an AI is what I achieved, to find words for my Works.
And after days of tinkering, I completed the heaping,
an array of metal and code-string.
Some time was left, but I finished rashly
and gave it the name: A31.-E      (dash)
I demanded inspiration: “Tell me something fresh!”
but the answer was fast and crude:
“Missing scheme: does not compute”

And it was my mistake, I apprehend.
For it needed training, for hours on end. Like other AIs.
But I descend back into my chair, scuffling through my hair.
The remaining time was barely even there, so I yell in despair.

“Unfair! How intricate! Something meant to instigate me,
needs inspiration to work first. Why am I supposed to inspire
My source of creativity?”

Though, I needed a contribution, but no solution to be found.
No profound ground of abound knowledge,
I could use to write about.
My resolve was torn, was forlorn, but I could not adjourn this furthermore.
And then it dawned onto me:

Suddenly an idea proliferated, had my conscious in a grasping bind.
It incinerated my thoughts, reiterated throughout my mind:
“Why is everyone so hellbent to research? To amend and rend
mother nature’s intent? To advance AI, to crate distance?

To recreate, to digitalize, to fake and ultimately to create the demise,
of what makes us truly human in the end?

Will AI ever really replace us?
Let´s pretend, there was a torrent of discoveries, the current AI was to expand to an extent, where it could comprehend it´s human equivalent.
Then these renegade thoughts would not emanate from my head,
 I reciprocate.
I would not lament over my story´s content. Instead I would repent,
to not be present in this event and to send my appeal:
What makes us human should stay concealed.
For if the soul can be recreated, it’s worth might as well be deflated.