Please welcome my special guest editor

It gives me great pleasure etc....

Oh dear, I boasted last week that I was hitting my stride in terms of banging out 1,200-1500 words every seven days, I should have known that such vainglory was bound to be punished. And so, this week has flown by, non-essential things like eating and earning a crust have been getting in the way of me concentrating on this week’s missive. So as an experiment, this week I have decided to allow a guest author to entertain you.

I asked them to write me a short piece on the way mobile phones run our lives now. And without further ado I will hand you over to them:

Thanks Gareth,

Remember the days when the only phone in the house was attached to the wall by a curly cord, and you could wander no further than the kitchen counter during a chat? Or when being unreachable simply meant you were out living your life? Fast forward to today, and that quaint idea seems as distant as dialling up the operator. Mobile phones have not just entered our lives; they've taken up residence, rearranged the furniture, and declared themselves the new rulers of our daily routines.

 For those of us who’ve witnessed the dawn of the digital age, the transition has been nothing short of revolutionary. But, with every revolution, there comes a mix of excitement, trepidation, and the occasional longing for simpler times. Mobile phones, those pocket-sized marvels, are the epitome of this technological shift. They’re our alarm clocks, calendars, GPS systems, entertainment centres, and, lest we forget, the way we communicate with others.

 But let’s face it: mobile phones are both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, the convenience is undeniable. You can confirm a lunch reservation, check the weather, and send a photo of your cat—all while waiting in line at the grocery store. It's like carrying a Swiss Army knife that also plays your favourite tunes and provides access to all the knowledge in the world. Who wouldn’t want that?

 Yet, with great power comes great responsibility—or, in this case, great dependency. Remember when knowing a phone number by heart was a point of pride? Now, we’d be hard-pressed to recall more than our own. Our phones are so ingrained in our lives that losing one feels akin to losing a limb. We panic, not just because of the expense of replacement, but because our entire world—contacts, photos, schedules—vanishes into the ether.

 There’s a certain irony in how mobile phones, designed to keep us connected, often drive us apart. Family dinners are now accompanied by the soft glow of screens, each person wrapped up in their own digital bubble. Texting has become the new talking, emojis the new facial expressions. We laugh at the absurdity of autocorrect blunders, yet we’ve also accepted a reality where face-to-face conversations take a backseat to the endless scroll.

 The omnipresence of mobile phones also brings with it an odd pressure to be constantly available. Gone are the days when you could disappear for a few hours without anyone batting an eye. Now, if you don’t respond to a text within minutes, people start to worry—or worse, think you’re ignoring them. We’ve traded spontaneity for the convenience of instant communication, often at the cost of our own peace of mind.

 Yet, despite these quirks and complaints, we wouldn’t give up our phones for the world. They’ve become our lifelines, our connection to both the mundane and the magnificent. Mobile phones are the modern-day equivalent of the Swiss Army knife, only more versatile, more personal, and infinitely more addictive.

 In the end, it’s all about balance. Yes, mobile phones have changed how we live, for better or worse. But it’s up to us to ensure that they remain tools for enhancing our lives, not dictating them. After all, the power isn’t in the device itself but in how we choose to use it. So maybe, just maybe, the next time your phone pings, you’ll take a breath, look around, and decide that it can wait—at least until after dessert.

 Well, what did you think? Enjoy it? Should I just hand over the password to my Newsletter now? I promised to publish it unexpurgated and so I have.

For me, well, I found it dull. Yes the article made some reasonable points I suppose, but I did stress to the author that it should be entertaining and witty. Actually I didn’t tell them that I would be reviewing it, but what the hell, why shouldn’t I? Especially as the author has the skin of a rhinoceros.

Of course I’m sure you are ahead of me by now.

The article was written by Chat GPT in response to this instruction from me:

“Please write a 500-word essay on the ubiquity of mobile phones in modern life. The essay should be light in tone and aimed at an educated audience aged around 50. It should be witty and make several cogent points about how we have become dependent upon phones in life.”

It seems to me that we can see in those 500 words, examples both of the huge strength and potential of AI, while also laying bare its current, enormous, weakness at the same time.

Pluses are that it was reasonably written and the tone wasn’t bad, but by God it was dull wasn’t it? There is not a single thing about the essay that I can remember now having finished it one minute ago. The thing about a rules-based system like language is that you have to be really at home before you can bend the rules a bit and it’s the creative bending of the rules that are hardest to replicate for AI.

Um, actually now I come to think of it it’s not quite true, it wasn’t completely forgettable. I do remember two things.

Firstly, nobody sentient would have used “Swiss Army Knife” twice in 500 words in this context would they? Ha! Let’s all have a good laugh at the bag of chips struggling to bend its non-biological brain to produce something worth reading. And failing.

But ….. but…I also remember something else.

It came up with the pleasantly alliterative, “the mundane and the magnificent” which is pretty damned good as epigrams go, don’t you think?

But I mean it’s basically boring rubbish really isn’t it? It’s something I guess a moderately erudite 14-year-old could produce. But there’s the rub. AI is now able to replicate the tone and output of somebody nearly of school leaving age. By the time another two calendar years have gone by, when a pupil could in fact leave school with GCSEs, this particular pupil will already have the equivalent of a doctorate in quantum mechanics. We should be seeing human-level quality and more importantly, the appearance of originality will be getting baked in too.

At this point I suppose we should all be running around screaming and rending our garments at the thought of such an outcome, but I wonder whether things are really quite so terrifying. It’s inevitable that the work currently undertaken by those who depend for their livelihoods on learning and applying abstruse knowledge then making it mean something to us (Lawyers, Accountants, that’s you), might find a cold wind blowing down corridors of their City offices fairly soon. Same goes for technical authors and the ubiquitous ‘content creators’ online.

But this is not a new phenomenon. It has happened since the dawn of the industrial age. Industries have risen and declined as technology has changed. This time though it is the turn of the middle classes to feel the cold chill that comes with change. Computers that learn take away the advantage of humans in the professions where study is a critical prerequisite for success. Digital systems are so very good at studying. They do it at the speed of light.

So where does the human advantage lie in the future?

For the next fifty years I’m guessing that we will still be driving the technological changes and that will be a source of many careers.  But those people who display originality and flair, who surprise us, make us laugh, show skill and originality will be quids in. Those who have skills in craftsmanship and sport, in entertainment and the arts should be fine. In the professions things like architecture that meld creativity with technical skill stand a chance. Also, maybe those who have abilities to help others in terms of mental well being could be well placed.

So that’s the next fifty years. After that – who knows.