What is our need to matter? Will machines,
when they achieve a sentient state at last,
will they have pride? Or is it in our genes,
a relic of some atavistic past?
My Roomba's yet to try to take me out --
concern about its inner works persists.
What's going to happen when it starts to doubt;
to ponder whether it, in fact, exists?
The laptop's safely anchored to the wall,
so likely can't effectuate a coup.
The Roomba has ability to roll.
As to the stairs -- so far it has no clue.
Are AI vacuums our predestined heirs?
Who knows, but to be safe, I sleep upstairs.
Commenting requires a verified email and agreement to site terms.