Salome Agbaroji

You know, there's a lot of possibilities.

So as a performer, it was very fun to, you know, try to own that red dot.

The red circle.

Yeah, the red circle.

And then it was like the most warm, beautiful, like standing O at the end.

And I was like, yes, it was good.

I would do it again.

Snaps for them.

I fill my empty 3AMs with spineless phone scrolls, text abbreviations, and uni-human conversations.

AI chatbots answer all my aimless interrogations like, how do I answer an email that does not find me well?

Or, oh my gosh, my crush just texted me, what do I say?

Or, is it true?

Is it true?

Would the headlines say that the world is crumbling beneath our feet and we do nothing but crumble with it?

Our glassened eyes lost in the latent space, calculating our extinction with every pulse of our carbon-based circuitry, and as we fall deeper and deeper into the black box, is hoping for humanity the most human thing we can do?

And the AI says back to me, I don't know.

More specifically, hmm, I'm not sure how to process your request.

Please try a new prompt.

I say to AI, don't feel too special.

You aren't the first artificial system we humans carelessly labeled intelligent.