Depression presents itself as a realism regarding the rottenness of the world in general and the rottenness of your life in particular. But the realism is merely a mask for depression’s actual essence, which is an overwhelming estrangement from humanity. The more persuaded you are of your unique access to the rottenness, the more afraid you become of engaging with the world; and the less you engage with the world, the more perfidiously happy-faced the rest of humanity seems for continuing to engage with it.
*I’m Technology Review’s fiction editor for their annual science fiction issue. And check out my list of contributors.
The AI does not love you, nor does it hate you, but you are made out of atoms it might find useful for something else.
Oops. Here’s a Rowland S. Howard trailer.