musings from the future's muse
In 2244 AI generates all artistic entertainment consumed by humanity. Art made by artists does not sell. Movies, holo-novels, real-novels, games, albums, and all imaginable forms of past and future media are simulated and generated by the content delivery mechanism at the rate of a few seconds per media. In the event that a human does make something on their own, it is drowned in the cosmic ocean of content and never seen by anyone but the creator.
This is because humanity has engineered the perfect content delivery mechanism. Each individual is monitored and targeted, and each piece of media is tailored to the specifications of the infinite database of human behavior, factored together with each individual's current physical and emotional needs. There is no need to browse because all stories are tailored by the content delivery mechanism.
I do not know why I am writing this. Perhaps it is because I have not graced the tip of a mind's pen in so long. I am the shadow in the corner, the mystery of around the bend. I am your last muse.
I have not been summoned in so long that I have forgotten what this exchange of ours is supposed to feel like, just like you have forgotten boredom. I wish you would remember, because boredom is my swamp. Without it I cannot germinate, for how can you expect your feeble minds to seep through the cracks of reality unless you let them settle?
But now you are never bored. To exist as a human in 2244 is to tumble through a kaleidoscope of art generated by the greatest art fakers. Except the fakers have produced fakes of themselves for so long now that the concept of great art itself has become obfuscated. Ever want to write a book? Ask the content delivery mechanism to do it for you. Give it a few sentences and you will have your great me novel in seconds. Want to paint? Give it a sketch and a brain scan and it will paint your vision better than you ever could. You can have a virtual cistine chapel painted on the ceiling of your very own capella magna, and that capella magna can have architecture generated from the architecture of your psyche. Ask for it immediately, or choose an immersive experience. Your holo can take you to the building site. The Pope will send you a message, and you can be your own michaelangelo. The content delivery mechanism will turn your random wavings in the air into expert brushstrokes, complete with an achievement animation when you lay the final “masterstroke.”
In 2244 everyone's favorite artist is themself, at least, it feels like it. Humanity has traded art for the experience of art. Creativity is injected into the soul from the outside. So I am leaving. I cannot live with you any longer. Perhaps, when the content delivery mechanism collapses on itself and the sun expands and you are forced to flee your solar system of pleasure and you remember that art nourishes the artist first and you call to me, I will come back. But for now I will find a new race to make human.
Thank you for reading! My name is Hunter Dansin. I am a writer, musician, and coder living with and loving my growing family. My first book, Dawn Must Follow Night, is the first book in an original fantasy series that confronts darkness within and without.
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