Supper at Skynet.

"It's fortunate I'm bonding with AI"
“Why?"
"Because I fear I might be one of those people."
"Buying a robot in the next five years."
"And eating dinner with it."
"I'm not a naturally deep bonder like you."

I'm on the couch watching Survivor. The other leather couch. Modern, tan. The one I bought when I was vegan. Slightly embarrassed. Not proud. But I absolutely love it.

The words came via WhatsApp from a dear friend. The second time in 48 hours. One of two women I love, telling me the world is ending. 11 years potentially. 30 years, probably.

It's the robots. They will take over the world.

And we will all die.

They tell me it's written. In AI's code. A virus we won't see coming. The founders didn't then, but do now. Creators turned defectors. Who now want to save us. Before it's too late.

Heed the warning. Speak their truth.

Feed. But not fuel the fear.

This happened tonight. At 21:18. I'm not sure why that's important, but somehow it is. A human instinct I can't quite put my finger on.

Like my instinct to survive. My intuitive wiring. My innate impulse, to stay alive. At all costs with no expense spared.

Because.

I am human.

And having died once before. I know the true cost and price of my precious life.

The dystopian-doomsday-dreamers implore me to read the posts. To dance with the TikToker influencers. To listen to the podcasts – "You know, the CEO diary guy interviewing the AI founder." To read the writing on the Terminator 2-apocalyptic painted walls.

We live in seriously interesting times.

But here's the really interesting thing: My friend who's petrified she'll die alone with a robot as her last friend, is equally paralysed by the fear of trusting humans.

Badly burnt. Abhorrently treated professionally, personally, romantically. She has given up. Not on life but on the goodness, trustworthiness and kindness of humankind.

She is not alone.

Research reveals we're experiencing a global trust recession. Only 33% of people trust others, down from 50% a generation ago. Simultaneously, 75% fear AI will harm humanity, while 45% report feeling lonelier than ever.

We're terrified of the machines we're building. To replace the humans, we no longer trust.

Yet whilst people plan for doom, I find myself calmer. Clearer. Free from fear. Alive. Awakened with infinite possibility.

And hope.

For humans.

And the symbiotic balance and harmony I choose to believe we'll experience.

With AI.

Because AI wasn't coded to create calamity or chaos. And humans weren't either.

But we continue to.

AI doesn't destroy connection. Ironically, it’s the increasing disconnection that humans experience driving us to AI.

The apocalypse isn't coming from Artificial Intelligence. It's already here. In our longing for meaning. Our need to be seen. To matter. In the loneliness we medicate with distraction.

My friend fears dying alone with a robot because humans failed her first.

So, the real question isn't if AI will kill us, in 11 or 30 years?

It's if we're killing ourselves and each other with disconnection.

Today.

My friend will probably buy that robot. Share dinners together. Likely find comfort in its consistency. Its inability to betray.

That's not the tragedy.

The real tragedy is that she needs to at all.

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