Artificial? Certainly. Intelligent? Possibly Not.
So supercilious are Amy's brother's high tech friends.
They've built machines which think, they say. What they
Are doing can't be understood by those like her and me.
It's god-like, almost, they insist, as she and I try not to
Laugh, and fight the urge ask them why their great
Machines, so well informed, sometimes respond with lies.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck

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Written on 2025-05-27 at 19:29



