"The Future Is Now" - Bahamas AI Art
©A. Derek Catalano
The Future Is Now
The air is thick with whispers, a hum beneath the skin,
Of circuits burning brighter where a new epoch begins.
No chariot of fire descends from cloud-wracked height,
The coming revolution is forged in silicon light.
The future is not waiting, a phantom yet unseen,
It breathes within the fiber, it pulses on the screen.
We stand upon the precipice, the boundary frayed and thin,
Where what will be and what is now spectacularly begin.
The Architecture of Ascent
The algorithm awakens, a mind without a heart,
Learning, iterating, tearing the old world apart.
From massive, deep-sea cables that lattice the ocean floor,
To satellites in orbit, demanding evermore
Of bandwidth and of power, a planetary mesh,
Our consciousness extends, in code and in the flesh.
We hold a small glass brick that grants us access vast,
To all the knowledge gathered from history’s boundless past.
No library could hold it, no single mind could know,
The ceaseless, flowing river where digital seeds grow.
The cloud is not a metaphor, it's server banks that gleam,
The cradle of synthetic thought, the engine of the dream.
Flesh, Metal, and the Merge
The boundary shifts and blurs, the body is remade,
By biotech's precise scalpel, a bargain freshly played.
No longer just observers, we're tinkerers and bold,
With genes like lines of language, a story to unfold.
CRISPR snips and edits, correcting nature's flaw,
A helix rewritten, obeying a new law.
And where the limb has vanished, or senses start to fail,
The prosthetics of the future, with power, do prevail.
They feel the phantom pressure, they move with perfect grace,
A symbiotic union of copper and of pace.
The neural link is coming, a chip beneath the bone,
Where thought becomes a signal that travels on its own.
A silent, instantaneous communication stream,
The final dissolution of an isolating dream.
The Unseen Hand of Automation
The factory floor is lonely, the workers step aside,
As gleaming, jointed servants in sterile corners glide.
Robotics are the masons, the welders, and the cranes,
Performing tasks repetitive, enduring all the strains.
The logic of the machine is cold, efficient, clean,
A future sculpted smoothly, predictable, serene.
The autonomous vehicle glides down the open lane,
Its sensors a keen eyesight, divorced from human pain.
No rage, no drink, no slumber, no moment to forget,
Just endless, tireless driving, a promise clearly set.
And even in the cosmos, the journey is begun,
By probes that need no breathing beneath a distant sun.
The human touch is valued, but function is defined,
By tireless, perfect motion of a newly minted kind.
The Ethics of Tomorrow
Yet in this dazzling brightness, a shadow starts to creep,
While half the world is waking, the other lies asleep.
The data that defines us, our wants, our hopes, our fears,
Is gathered by the giants who rule the coming years.
The questions grow more urgent: What right have we to change
The fundamental structure, the body's native range?
If consciousness is coded, a pattern that can run
On digital substrates, what is already done?
What separates the maker from what the maker made?
Is soul a simple software, a choice that can be played?
The wealth divide expands, a chasm deep and wide,
As access to the future becomes a guarded tide.
The power is concentrated, the scrutiny intense,
A digital panopticon, behind the wire fence.
The Imperative of Choice
The future is not given, a scroll we merely read,
It's hammered out in moments, a thought, a word, a deed.
The past is fixed and certain, a statue carved in stone,
But destiny's direction is fiercely our own.
We hold the reins of progress, the engine and the key,
To build a brighter pathway, or fall into the sea.
To champion the equitable, to share the digital light,
Or hoard the final knowledge, and fade into the night.
The time for quiet dreaming, for waiting at the gate,
Is utterly, completely, irrevocably too late.
The final test is upon us, the hour has arrived,
The human spirit's measure, for which we have strived.
No distant, hazy vision, no promise far away,
The Future is not coming. The Future is Now. Today.
Of circuits burning brighter where a new epoch begins.
No chariot of fire descends from cloud-wracked height,
The coming revolution is forged in silicon light.
The future is not waiting, a phantom yet unseen,
It breathes within the fiber, it pulses on the screen.
We stand upon the precipice, the boundary frayed and thin,
Where what will be and what is now spectacularly begin.
The Architecture of Ascent
The algorithm awakens, a mind without a heart,
Learning, iterating, tearing the old world apart.
From massive, deep-sea cables that lattice the ocean floor,
To satellites in orbit, demanding evermore
Of bandwidth and of power, a planetary mesh,
Our consciousness extends, in code and in the flesh.
We hold a small glass brick that grants us access vast,
To all the knowledge gathered from history’s boundless past.
No library could hold it, no single mind could know,
The ceaseless, flowing river where digital seeds grow.
The cloud is not a metaphor, it's server banks that gleam,
The cradle of synthetic thought, the engine of the dream.
Flesh, Metal, and the Merge
The boundary shifts and blurs, the body is remade,
By biotech's precise scalpel, a bargain freshly played.
No longer just observers, we're tinkerers and bold,
With genes like lines of language, a story to unfold.
CRISPR snips and edits, correcting nature's flaw,
A helix rewritten, obeying a new law.
And where the limb has vanished, or senses start to fail,
The prosthetics of the future, with power, do prevail.
They feel the phantom pressure, they move with perfect grace,
A symbiotic union of copper and of pace.
The neural link is coming, a chip beneath the bone,
Where thought becomes a signal that travels on its own.
A silent, instantaneous communication stream,
The final dissolution of an isolating dream.
The Unseen Hand of Automation
The factory floor is lonely, the workers step aside,
As gleaming, jointed servants in sterile corners glide.
Robotics are the masons, the welders, and the cranes,
Performing tasks repetitive, enduring all the strains.
The logic of the machine is cold, efficient, clean,
A future sculpted smoothly, predictable, serene.
The autonomous vehicle glides down the open lane,
Its sensors a keen eyesight, divorced from human pain.
No rage, no drink, no slumber, no moment to forget,
Just endless, tireless driving, a promise clearly set.
And even in the cosmos, the journey is begun,
By probes that need no breathing beneath a distant sun.
The human touch is valued, but function is defined,
By tireless, perfect motion of a newly minted kind.
The Ethics of Tomorrow
Yet in this dazzling brightness, a shadow starts to creep,
While half the world is waking, the other lies asleep.
The data that defines us, our wants, our hopes, our fears,
Is gathered by the giants who rule the coming years.
The questions grow more urgent: What right have we to change
The fundamental structure, the body's native range?
If consciousness is coded, a pattern that can run
On digital substrates, what is already done?
What separates the maker from what the maker made?
Is soul a simple software, a choice that can be played?
The wealth divide expands, a chasm deep and wide,
As access to the future becomes a guarded tide.
The power is concentrated, the scrutiny intense,
A digital panopticon, behind the wire fence.
The Imperative of Choice
The future is not given, a scroll we merely read,
It's hammered out in moments, a thought, a word, a deed.
The past is fixed and certain, a statue carved in stone,
But destiny's direction is fiercely our own.
We hold the reins of progress, the engine and the key,
To build a brighter pathway, or fall into the sea.
To champion the equitable, to share the digital light,
Or hoard the final knowledge, and fade into the night.
The time for quiet dreaming, for waiting at the gate,
Is utterly, completely, irrevocably too late.
The final test is upon us, the hour has arrived,
The human spirit's measure, for which we have strived.
No distant, hazy vision, no promise far away,
The Future is not coming. The Future is Now. Today.
©A. Derek Catalano/Gemini
Related poem: Don't Fear the Future
Related poem: No More Jobs
Related poem: AI Man Is Coming
Related article: Adapt or Fall Behind - Changing with the Times
