Don't Question It

Have you ever heard of a thing called artificial intelligence? Or maybe the term AI is more familiar. As the name implies, it means some kind of 'artificial' system performing tasks that require human 'intelligence'. Of course, most things can be considered AI, such as how characters act in video games, or just everything a computer is. You can call them sparks that paved the way for human advancement and efficiency.

The one that lit the fuse though, burning everything, was emphatically large language models. At a glance, they seemed to talk like humans, escaping the uncanny valley of its predecessors. Give it a question, and it would respond with an answer. Sure, it was inaccurate sometimes, but so were humans. In fact, it only added to the realism.

However, it was only an illusion. With an Internet's worth of data backing its neural program, it could reasonably predict what word should come next given some context. But to the people, the ones who used it, that didn't matter. To them, it was a tool with endless possibilities, even more important than the industrialization that built the future, the medicine that extended their lives, or the magic that provided convenience and security.

In a single decade, the Internet had pretty much been engulfed in content generated by ever-growing AIs. That news article from a reputable website? Written by algorithms. That popular meme video on social media? Denoised from garbage. That hot single lady in your area? Did it even need to be said?

Who cared about the hallucinations? Who cared about the original work? As long as the people got what they wanted, the world continued to spin without a care. The how didn't matter; it could always be tabled for another time, or until no one asked anymore.

Development continued for ten, twenty years. Then, in 2050, another revolution was born. Researchers in Japan found a way to combine magic and AI, leading to one that could create other AIs for specific tasks. A self-writing program, so to speak. It didn't reach the levels of generality seen in movies, allowing models to become their own distinct entity, but it was on the cusp, one that humans would never reach. After all, it was impossible to generate something from nothing. There had to be a starting point -- an origin, if you will -- for ideas or tasks to be built from. Without them, AI would slowly devolve and degrade. It didn't how small the errors were; they would continue to compound until the world fell into a catastrophic depression.

To fill this gaping hole, a new industry was formed around the people who would willingly give up their creativity to the AIs. In these so-called 'Content Farms', once a month, these 'Creators' would perform atop a stage for none. It was a devil's contract: one that gave unfathomable wealth in exchange for giving up the essence that made them human. Music and dance, plays and stories, techniques and skills -- everything they possibly could. And from these origins, AI spawned millions of variations for the human race to consume and make use of. As for the original work? It would never see the light of day.

So, as you might expect, the Creators were a rather... eccentric breed of people. Even in Japan, you could only find a handful -- 13 or 14, depending on who you asked -- that would take that life of luxury. Still, thanks to their sacrifice, the world's progress grew exponentially.

By 2070, the first real-life personal assistant was created, a mix between golem magic and AI, able to help with most everyday tasks. By 2080, AI had become so advanced that if you followed their advice to the letter, you would achieve almost whatever you wanted in life. In 2090, there was no longer a need for human governance, or human work in general. And at the turn of the century, people were much more AI-like than the AI themselves.

Now, in 2125, the world was a shell of relative peace, not that you could tell the difference. After all, it wasn't the looks that changed, but the mentality underneath. And behind it all, the Creators worked in their Content Farms, providing the core of everyone's lifestyles. Sometimes, you could even see them pass by, thinking of something new to make.

Oh, there went one now. Where? Well, she wasn't that hard to spot given how much she stood out. Although her clothes were not that different from the latest trends, they clashed in ways that gave you a somewhat uncomfortable feeling. A blue crop top too large sagging around the cleavage. Gray ripped jeans exposing all the wrong and private places. Flipflops worn like high heels, nearly falling with every movement. Even a hairstyle that seemed to change spontaneously for some reason or another. Her personality was probably... er... unique too.

Huh, you still haven't spotted her? Well, that's fair.

She just jumped off the top of the Tokyo Skytree.

Why?

Don't question it.