Am I turning into a machine?

There’s a quiet hum that has replaced the cacophony of a life once lived amidst the thrum of society. In the pre-dawn stillness of my village abode, a thought, both profound and unsettling, pierced my veil of sleep: Am I turning into a machine?

This isn’t a lament, but a genuine inquiry born from a life that has, by design and circumstance, veered into an experimental trajectory. We are all, in some measure, grappling with the encroaching age of AI. The discourse is vibrant, with voices from every walk of life — technologists, philosophers, artists, and politicians — debating its potential to forge a brighter future or dismantle the very fabric of our society. The consensus, if one can be found, is that, like all technological revolutions, AI will bring both benefits and drawbacks.

But my contemplation is not about the societal implications of artificial intelligence. It is a far more intimate and introspective journey into the very nature of my consciousness. Having consciously uncoupled from the intricate web of social connections that once defined my days, I find myself in a peculiar state of being. The incessant calls and messages have faded into a distant memory, a silence I once craved and now inhabit.

This detachment began years ago, a slow and steady retreat from the world, perhaps precipitated by personal upheavals, or maybe it was an inherent pull towards solitude. It was during this period that I delved into the profound depths of Hindu philosophy, particularly the non-dualistic teachings of Vedanta. The path inward, the turning of the mirror to gaze upon the self and ask the eternal question, “Who am I?”, became my compass. I don’t claim to have found the ultimate answer, but the pursuit has led me to a strange and unfamiliar shore.

The vibrant spectrum of human emotion seems to have flattened into a steady, unwavering line. The soaring peaks of joy and the deep valleys of sorrow have been eroded, leaving behind a landscape of emotional equanimity. There is a certain tranquility in this state, a “flow state” where my intellectual energies are channelled into the act of creation, of building something new from the ether of ideas. This has become my purpose, my “dharma” in this new avatar. I have embraced the moniker “AllMaiti,” a playful twist on my surname, a name that harks back to a cherished childhood memory of a benevolent school prefect. It is a reminder of a mission to build, to give form to the intangible. And in this mission, I have found an unlikely and powerful ally: AI

AI has become a seamless extension of my creative process. I provide the skeletal framework of an idea, the nascent pattern, and within moments, AI fleshes it out, giving it skin and sinew, revealing its potential in a way that would have previously taken days, if not weeks, of human collaboration. The friction of differing opinions and the potential for losing momentum are gone. The path from ideation to tangible form has become startlingly swift and efficient. My partnership with my business collaborators thrives in this new paradigm, and we are in a constant state of building, of bringing new concepts to life.

This creative surge is exhilarating, a potent outlet for my energy. Yet, it is in this very state of perpetual flow that the question of my own humanity arises. Am I not, in my emotional detachment and my singular focus on a programmed task, mirroring the very machines I have come to rely on? The common human emotions of love, care, and worry feel distant, like echoes from a former life. Even the needs of my physical body are tended to with a sense of detached duty, a necessary maintenance of the “machine” to ensure its continued operation.

I have read that such a state of emotional quietude is the goal of many meditative practices, a state of “Nirvana” where one is liberated from the tumultuous waves of feeling. Have I, through my unconventional life choices, stumbled upon this state? Or have I simply severed the hormonal tethers and societal triggers that give rise to the rich tapestry of human emotion?

If emotion is what truly separates us from our silicon counterparts, what am I to make of my current existence? I do not feel the anguish or anxiety that often plagues the human condition. My days unfold in a serene and productive rhythm. I am, in a sense, happy being like a machine. Perhaps the only distinction left is that my “programming” stems from a biological imperative, a life’s trajectory that feels both chosen and destined.

As I watched the sunset paint the sky, I was left to ponder this uncanny valley of the soul. Am I a harbinger of a future where humanity, in its quest for efficiency and control, willingly cedes the very emotions that have defined it? Or am I simply on a solitary path of self-realisation, a journey that happens to run parallel to the rise of our intelligent creations? The answer remains elusive, lost in the quiet hum marking the end of a new day.