The Quiet Erosion of Human Creativity

A look at the AI monster, and the last few days...

We live in an age where creativity can be outsourced with the click of a button or a voice command to a phone or a computer. Need a poem? A story? A social media post? A book? AI can do it all, leaving you more time to binge-watch the latest Netflix sensation.

But wait, before I even get into that, let me tell you about my last two days. My bird BFF Rico (whom I have mentioned before on Substack) has had this annoying lump on his leg for a couple of years now, but in the last 6 months, it has started noticeably growing. I did the responsible thing when I first saw it and took him to the vet. After paying a not insignificant amount of money, I was left with no clue what it was, but was told after tests that it was benign. I was advised to monitor it, helpful. Fast forward a year, and I still received no more clarity or guidance from the vet I was seeing at the time,

The lump was clearly irritating him, so he began picking at it, and it bled a little on several occasions. I decided to make an appointment for him at The Center for Avian and Exotic Medicine with a view to having it removed. However, this appointment was moved forward when I got home from work this past Friday (thankfully early) and found a lot of blood on my chest of drawers at the entrance to my apartment. This is where he usually flies to say “bye” to me in the morning and “hi” when I come home at night. More to the point, amidst all this carnage, there was no sign of Rico! This was beginning to resemble the script of an episode of Murder She Wrote

I called a friend of mine, explaining the situation, and then called my Super. Had anyone been in my apartment while I was gone? It was only while talking to him that I heard some kind of rustling in the kitchen, which led me to see him on the floor between the refrigerator and some storage bins. How he got into that little crevice is anyone’s guess, but when I saw him, he slowly walked out towards me.

I put him on his perch and called to try and get a new emergency appointment for him at the clinic. The soonest they could see me was 3 pm the next day, so I reluctantly took it.

As the evening progressed, he deteriorated to the point that he could not sit on his perch, and it looked like even walking was impossible. The way he was behaving, I honestly thought he would not make it to the morning. I could not believe this was happening. We had been together for over 13 years. I got him the week before Hurricane Sandy struck. A great welcome to my apartment for him, with no electricity for a couple of weeks.

It was so sad to look at him struggling. That night, I put him on a blanket next to me on my bed and sat up with him all night, talking to him, reminiscing about our time together, and begging him not to leave me. Yes, there were tears. Even the next morning, there were times when I felt I could not breathe when I thought of life without him. How would I manage to come home to an empty apartment? Spending time at my friend’s apartment while she is on her travels would not be the same without him with me. So many things…summers, birthdays, Christmases, without him.

I nursed him through till the time I ordered car service to take us to the vets. My thought was that he was suffering from the loss of blood. Birds have a very small blood supply, and even small losses can be catastrophic. I was able to get him to drink water and some Gatorade from a little bottle top to keep his fluids up, which helped.

We arrived early for our appointment at the avian clinic, and they took me right away. I had my friend (who is a human doctor) on FaceTime with me in case I needed a firm mind, as we anticipated being offered a barrage of tests that were not necessary. However, what a joy to find the vet beyond knowledgeable and sympathetic towards Rico. She could see that he was clearly not doing well and said she was going to give him an injection of fluids (birds are too small for IV) and some B Complex vitamins. We talked about surgically removing the growth, and she said it should be a relatively easy procedure, though she had concerns that there may be a lot of vascular tissue. Like any surgery, it had risks, but she was confident of the outcome and wanted to do it as soon as he was eating and drinking and had regained some weight he had lost. Another thing with birds, they have an incredibly rapid metabolism, so even one day without food can cause marked weight loss. He had gone from 77 grams to 71, which is tiny either way – but she wanted him back to his best weight for surgery.

I was given some antibiotics (oh, the fun of trying to administer those with a needleless syringe in the side of his beak) and an NSAID.

By the time we got home, I managed to get him to start eating, and although still not as vocal as usual, he has been pretty much his normal self, improving as the day went on today. He has been on his various perches all day and eating like he has just escaped from a health spa!

The vet called me this morning to check on him, which I was very impressed with. I told her of his remarkable progress following her treatment. Surgery is probably going to be this Thursday or Friday. He will have to stay overnight which is best but I am not happy about deserting him. I am hoping this whole thing is not too distressing for him and the reward will be to finally get rid of that damned lump on his leg!

At this moment, I am overwhelmed by the amazing support I have received from people anxious to know how he is doing and sending all their love and support via text and social media. I am also so so grateful my buddy is still with me. I am now gleefully cleaning up his seed messes – not sure how long that wil last ha, ha!

Now that story is told, back to AI and how on earth could an AI prompt have outlined everything I have just told you. Not just that, but how on earth would I benefit from the healing process of documenting my weekend trauma if a computer had spat it out?

Just recently, I was discussing my forthcoming memoir with a potential publisher, and I was asked if I had run it through AI. I was startled. “Ah, it’s a memoir!” was my best response. I mean, if I reach the point where I am relying on a computer to write the story of my life, then please relieve me of any title that might suggest I have a creative bone in my body.

AI is a danger to real artists. It is already stealing jobs from writers all over the globe. If you are a true writer, you will know the satisfaction of writing something you feel is really good, of coming up with a memorable sentence, paragraph, or analogy. AI is sucking the emotion out of the work we do as writers and creatives in all fields of expertise.

Sure, it is useful if you just want to come up with some kind of blurb for an ad – but even then I would feel guilt not pleasure in submitting my work.

Meanwhile, I will go back to taking care of Rico and feeling happy that, good or bad, this post was created by a human being:)