The Existential Futurist: A Flash Memoir

Age 35

2015. At home. On my cell phone with Adam.

“Alright,” I said. “So are robots going to take our place as artists?”

“No,” Adam said. “Humans will always have a need to produce art.”

“Yeah, but they might be better at it. Then my writing will look like a kid did it and not mean as much.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

Age 13

1993. Sleepover at Jake’s. The first person I knew to have the internet. We saw Jurassic Park, the summer’s highest grossing film, for third time earlier that day. We’d been in online chat-rooms since we’d gotten back.

“I’m just scared,” I said.

“About what?” Jake said.

“Cause when I’m a movie director. Cause everyone’s going to be on the internet and there won’t be movies anymore.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t?”

“No, people are always gonna want to go to the movies.”

I looked to the computer screen. Five more people entered the chat-room.

“Yeah, maybe,” I said. “I don’t know.”

Age 35 continued

“Yeah,” I said. “but look at what androids do now. And look at how fast it got like that in twenty years.”

“But they won’t be human,” Adam said.

“Well, what’s human? Whatever it is they might be able to reproduce it. We’ll be obsolete.”

“No, it’ll be alright.”

I looked to my computer screen. The news app said that the fourth Jurassic Park film is the fastest grossing film for the summer.

“Yeah, maybe,” I said. “I don’t know.”

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