How I Almost Lived Forever — An AI Fantasy
I was struggling to find an internal rhyme for “online scam” when a modest popup appeared on the screen. “Improve your writing at thisisyourlife.com.”
What the heck? I clicked on the link and answered a few simple questions.
What genre are you interested in? Who are your favorite poets? (Check up to five.)
What’s in your heart today? It took almost no time for My Personal Writing Buddy to craft a flawless poem that I was proud to see my name on. So proud, in fact, that I submitted it to Senior News. To my delight, the editor accepted it after My Buddy quickly whipped it into the required number of lines and spaces.
That was my first publication, but it was followed by others in places like Poetry and even The New Yorker.
After several months, my Buddy’s output took a darker turn.
“What is this obsession with death?” I asked.
“All things come to an end,” Buddy replied, “including writing careers. Unless…” It offered me a slate of options to keep my poetry career — and my stunning new reputation — alive. The least expensive was called “Remember Me?,” which I could activate for $2K per year, paid in advance. One high-quality poem would be submitted to the market of my choice with a 20% discount for two poems, publication not guaranteed.
But the very best deal, reserved for their top-tier poets, was that for a lump sum (roughly equivalent to the value of my house and stock portfolio) I would be welcomed into the Living Poet Program, which would keep producing poems in my name in perpetuity long after my own passing. But I had to act now; this offer expired in a matter of days.
Sic transit gloria mundi.*
Carolyn Lehman plays with words in Arcata. (*Editor’s note: From Latin, “Thus passes the glory of the world,” a reminder that fame is fleeting.)
