It may be tempting to look upon AI as inevitable, as unstoppable, in the same way Google or the internet itself previously appeared . . .

For a while, she had felt that she was disappearing.

Not long ago, I was sitting in the dentist’s chair, leaned back all the way, staring into a light that kind of resembled the light described in accounts of near-death experiences, and had the usual discomfort . . .

“I don’t know if it’s happened to you, but I’ve experienced this weird thing where ChatGPT doesn’t just generate answers to the questions I ask or give me detailed notes and essays on a given topic—it actually tells the future, if you can believe it.”

He sank into a black faux leather chair, swiveling back & forth unconsciously, his eyes fixed on the screen in front of him.

The old man sat up, sweating, peering into the dark for something familiar. He’d just seen the end.

Like anyone else who moves around the city and pays attention, I had often seen, and pitied, those figures, sunburnt and disheveled, who stand at intersections, outside of gas stations, and in grocery store parking lots begging for help, telling stories of falling on hard times, extending cardboard signs with handwritten messages such as “anything helps” or “God bless.”

While we played dominoes, the parrot sat in his cage on the side of the house near the kitchen.

Standing at the pool’s edge, my feet burning a bit against the concrete, I looked down into the water, clear and chlorinated—a perfect chemical light blue—and watched it gently ripple while I waited for my mother, who was sitting with my aunt under a pavilion close by.

When I was much younger I worked at the Arby’s in my hometown and I can remember closing at night when everything was shutting down . . .