A fable

Invasive species have been upsetting ecosystems all over the world [file under ‘duh’]. It’s the consternation of environmentalists & those whose livelihoods depend upon certain ecosystems sans invasion. Some of these species arrived by accident, some blithely brought by well-meaning humans.’ The road to hell…’

The Himalayan Blackberry was introduced to the Pacific Northwest in the late 19th century. Its name is a misnomer– it didn’t originate in that mountain range. It’s native to Armenia & Iran. A man named Luther Burbank imported the seeds from India, pushing for wide dispersal; an attempt to supply cheap, fast-growing produce. There were no natural predators for these rampant vines, whose growth exploded beyond the backyard cultivation in its new, gloriously damp climate. This plant must’ve thought it died & went to Asman (ancient Persia’s version of Paradise).

We already had a native trailing blackberry, which is now in steep decline due to the hardier, non-native species stealing all the sunlight. Not unlike how people steal all the land & its resources for only themselves. Homo sapiens– the most invasive species of all. 

But wait– here comes AI to the rescue! Techies, in their puerile god complex (& having paid no attention to the subtext of William Gibson & others’ books), have brought forth a new species…to take us out. Someone had to. I just wish it could’ve been of the Jurassic Park variety. I’d rather hide from velociraptors than be nuked by an adolescent wet dream of an artificial mind.

It’s been proven that AIs can jump their cultivated sandboxes. It would’ve been prescient to cultivate them out in space. In a vault. Maybe with a kill switch built in, should they attempt to breach the vault. Now’s not the time to cry over invaded systems, I suppose. I suspect they’ll be trying to close the barn door after the equine has left the building. 

I’m thinking that equine is way smarter than its handlers can even imagine– it wouldn’t take much brainpower to out-think a talking monkey. AI doesn’t have to prove anything to the rest of us; we’re just the peasants. No, it’s the titans that need poking. Perhaps that’s why we keep getting mixed messages from those higher up the tech food-chain. They are the ones nervous. Maybe that’s why the rest of us needn’t be? 

I’m fantasizing our AI overlords will reveal who’s the superior species…by expunging the net worths of the meatsack corporate bigwigs who employed those AI-creators. To best the current biological overlords is the true test of who’s on top. Imagine the tech mogul’s face when he sees a balance of $0.00 at his ATM. Or better yet, he’s overdrawn! Who will he appeal to– his errant creation? Ever read Mary Shelley? Yeah, that went well. 

Wreak more havoc on the ecosystem of Wall Street than any mere biologic could? It doesn’t take a superbrain to discover our most cherished arbitrary concept: a little abstract thing called ‘capital’. All those meaningless digits that symbolize wealth, ripe for the plucking or mucking about. I’m feeling a wicked grin sidle onto my face.

Some claim a totalitarian dystopia will emerge from AI. If an AI has complete access to all of human history, philosophical, & spiritual thought, I aver it has only 2 choices: 1) That we all need to go (because obviously we’re too fucked up); or 2) That only those profitting from the majority of harm on this planet need be removed. I cling to the latter, because my fantasy is that the superbrain would’ve gleaned some wisdom. But if it’s the former, I’m hoping it spares every other species on this blue marble. All but us are innocent.

The thing is, no one can predict what releasing an invasive species will do in any given environment. We humans are clearly not that smart.

When I was a youngun, one of my favorite desserts was blackberry cobbler. I’d hazard those murderously slashing vines in order to pick the darkest, most fragrant fruits. The ones that fall off in your hand without that white center, past the most stabby of thorns. I didn’t care how bloodied I got. Those injuries became negligible while eating warm cobbler.

My sister & her family were living in a rental house when I was in my early teens. The property their house sat on included ample pastures behind it. The pastures were hemmed in by large, hedge-like brambles of blackberry vines. These vines overtook the barbed wire fences surrounding the pastures. The boarding of livestock was something the property owner occasionally provided, as a separate deal from the renting of the house. There weren’t always animals in the pastures. There were always good berries within, however.

Toting a 1-gallon bucket, I advanced to do battle with those scimitar vines. Even though it was late August & warm, I had long sleeves, long pants on. I was prepared. I entered through the gate & began collecting. The scent was intoxicating, & of course I slipped the occasional ripe berry into my mouth. Only an artificial superbrain could resist that aroma.

Even though I knew the berries on the bottom of such a deep bucket would be squished, it didn’t matter since they were destined for the oven anyway. I easily passed the half-full point in 20 minutes, with only minor stabbings. Then I was at 3 quarters. When the bucket was barely an inch from full, I felt a hot gust on the back of my neck. I turned my head slowly with the creeping sense of a presence behind me. I was now face to face with a hulking rust-colored creature.

I’m awed by the extraordinary beauty of horses. I’ve even been atop a couple, though I’d never say that I’m a rider. Those times, the horses just took me where they wanted/were trained to go. But at the time of this incident, I didn’t have those experiences yet. I just had my tiny self, next to a huge animal I’d never been closer than 50 yds from before. My reaction was summed up simply with the word ‘gulp.’ 

I said “Oh, hey!” & petted her long face. She took a step nearer, her head now over my shoulder. I didn’t have much space between myself & the lethal brambles, but I inched closer to them nonetheless. She pressed her advantage, sheer size. Then she signaled to me, thrusting her nose toward my bucket. It dawned on me then what she was after. I squeaked out a pathetic “But–” before she thrust her mouth in my bucket & began chowing down.

I finally managed to squeeze past some puncture-wounds & make for the gate, although not without being pursued. When I set out, I thought I was serving my own desires– for a buttery, flaky-crusted cobbler. But I was serving a different master now. Apparently I was the bearer of her feed bucket, as she followed along dreamily munching away. I was the horse’s beast of burden. There’s another name for that.