This winter was rather dry. The city sparsely sprinkled with snowfall, showing record low affiliations with the season. The bite to the wind, though, was something viscous. 

In and off the city streets we all went. On and into cyberspace we all went. 

I watched war unfold in my palm and learned TikTok may be burned into my phone screen. 

I am a voyeur.

Addicted to gratification in the form of short-form content, I’ve watched trends disappear as quickly as they've arrived and have felt my spine tingle with ecstasy as we rally around a new benign joke or repackaged product.

Artificial intelligence began to trickle into my content feed. It started as AI generated photos illustrating how programs misunderstood human concepts, look at how silly, the computer can’t conceptualize a centaur. 

I understood quite early that these programs are focused on conceptualizing what it’s like to be us. It has to understand why someone would want to create a mythical being.

Slowly these ‘silly’ demonstrations became genuine warnings to learn to disseminate these photos from reality. Mothers on Facebook are awestruck by children who have created 40 foot ice sculptures in their backyards. Fathers are falling prey to profiles with women toting the most insane proportions you’ve ever seen. We all get off in our own right.