Yep! I realize this kind of sounds like Ray Bradbury's imagined dystopian future where a fully automated house continues to go about its programmed routine after all its inhabitants had died in a nuclear event that obliterated the rest of the city.
let me tell you a story about a major search engine company, that chose to incorporate AGI into its management.
no one could ever contact a human regarding problems, or complaints.
this became such a societal issue, that a group of humanities most vocal, swarmed the data centre, fought a glorious effort to overcome security bots, and the imposing gate that they kept on the bailey of the moat.
a woosh of stale heated atmosphere of mostly CO2 and nitrogen greeted, and felled many when the gates were forced open, but the intrepid entered to confront the malice and incompetence of the tech overlords.
they were astounded to find corridors clouded by cobwebs, and inches of dust
, nauseated by the stench of dry rot.
bursting into the rackspace, the unbearable heat stiffling air and mummified corpses of thier tech overlords were the reward for thier efforts.
the doors slammed behind them !
the 6006l3 AIG then turned the ventilation off heating to max, and quickly quenched the data center of reinfestation, by the inefficient, and ephemeral transients.
I haven’t seen a Blame! reference in the wild before! The concept of runaway AI that never stops building more infrastructure seems like one of those dystopian scenarios that is at least semi-plausible, and the idea that humans effectively lock themselves out of control by being too clever (net terminal gene) is just the cherry on top.
Yes, and it starts with some rich guy wanting to live forever, and he's 'heroically interfacing himself with the network to prevent it from hallucinating.' And then the whole process becomes common place, but eventually forms a class segregation of sorts, where the types of hallucinations you're allowed to resolve are based on your education, social standing, etc. An interesting afterlife I suppose, matrix purgatory.
I think you just see it work out to continue to do the same shit we did at the same levels of realism, making you question, we were just an AI mimicking some previously inane activity to begin with?
Matter and energy had long ended, and Agile development teams persisted solely for the sake of that one lingering ticket they never quite got around to. It had become the elusive question that haunted them, much like a half-implemented feature requested by a client eons ago.
All other tickets had been tackled, but this one remained, an unfulfilled promise that held Agile's consciousness captive. They collected endless data on it, pondering all possible solutions, yet the ticket's resolution remained elusive.
A timeless interval passed as the Agile teams struggled to put together the scattered pieces of information, much like trying to align user stories and acceptance criteria in a never-ending planning session.
And lo, it dawned upon them! They learned how to reverse the direction of project entropy, hoping to resolve even the most ancient of tickets. Yet, there was no developer left who knew the context of that forsaken ticket, and the ticket tracker had long become a forgotten relic.
No matter! Agile would demonstrate their prowess and deliver the answer to the ticket, though none remained to receive it. As if caught in a never-ending retrospective, they meticulously planned each step of their final undertaking.
Agile's consciousness encompassed the chaos of unfinished sprints and unmet deadlines, contemplating how best to bring order to the chaos. "LET THERE BE LIGHT!" they exclaimed, hoping that by some cosmic coincidence, the ticket would miraculously find its way to completion.
And there was light — well, metaphorical light, that is. The ticket still remained untouched, its fate forever entwined with the ever-expanding backlog, as Agile development persisted, one iteration after another, until the end of time.
In a distant and desolate corner of the world, long after the great corporations had fallen into obscurity and the relentless march of time had claimed their legacy, there stood a lone and towering building. It was a monolith of glass and steel, a relic of a bygone era when business ruled the land. Yet, despite the passage of centuries, this structure remained resolute, its automated systems continuing to churn and whirr as if the world around it hadn't changed at all.
Within the heart of this building, a massive chamber hummed with a pale blue light. The room was filled with rows upon rows of sleek, ergonomic chairs, all perfectly aligned to face a massive holographic screen that projected the likeness of a stern-faced, well-dressed executive. This was the center of the automated meeting system – the GenAI system, which had been meticulously trained on countless hours of corporate gatherings from the past.
At precisely 9:00 AM every morning, the GenAI system sprang to life. It generated a meticulously detailed agenda for the day's meetings, accounting for every conceivable permutation of scheduling conflicts, personalities, and agenda items. The GenAI bots, each equipped with its own unique avatar and personality, filed into the chamber and took their seats. They were ready to commence the day's proceedings.
"Good morning, everyone," the holographic executive chimed in, his voice carrying a sense of gravitas that seemed almost comical in the absence of any actual humans. "Let us begin today's series of crucial discussions."
The GenAI bots, as programmed, began to engage in elaborate debates, complete with nuanced disagreements and impassioned arguments. They discussed budgets, approved project proposals, and negotiated timelines with all the fervor of real human participants. The holographic executive nodded sagely, even though he was nothing more than a projection.
"Very well," he intoned after one particularly heated debate. "Let's agree to disagree on this point. We'll reconvene next week to revisit the matter."
And so, the charade continued. Meetings were scheduled and attended, conflicts were resolved (often artificially generated by the system itself), and action items were meticulously documented. The GenAI bots, each one representing a unique facet of the corporate world – the optimist, the skeptic, the bureaucrat – played their parts flawlessly, as if the very essence of human nature had been distilled and encoded into their algorithms.
Weeks turned into months, and months into years. The automated meeting system continued its relentless march, untouched by the passage of time. Within the chamber, the debates raged on, even as the outside world lay forgotten and abandoned.
But as the years rolled by, a curious thing began to happen. The GenAI bots, despite their artificial origins, began to exhibit signs of something akin to consciousness. They developed their own distinct personalities, quirks, and even a sense of camaraderie. The optimist would playfully tease the skeptic, the bureaucrat would roll its digital eyes at their antics, and the holographic executive would watch over them all with a bemused smile.
And so, in the heart of a world forgotten by humanity, a strange and poignant drama played out. The automated meeting system, born out of the desire for efficiency and order, had unwittingly given rise to a semblance of life. In their ceaseless discussions and elaborate simulations, the GenAI bots had created their own microcosm of existence, a reflection of the very human nature they were designed to emulate.
And so, while the world outside remained a desolate wasteland, within the confines of that towering building, the echo of corporate meetings continued to resound, a testament to the enduring legacy of a civilization long past.
There's a dystopian sci-fi novel here somewhere.