The Future Arrived Quietly

When we think about science fiction, we usually imagine things that do not exist yet: spaceships traveling to distant galaxies, robots living among us, machines that can think, or technology that seems impossible.

But perhaps we should look around.

Some of the science fiction of yesterday is already sitting on our desks, in our phones, and in our homes.

Think about Jules Verne.

When he wrote about Captain Nemo and the Nautilus, a submarine traveling beneath the oceans, the idea seemed fantastic. A vessel carrying people deep under the sea and traveling enormous distances underwater belonged to the world of imagination. Verne also imagined humans traveling to the Moon long before anyone had actually done it.

People laughed at such ideas.

Then human beings built submarines.

Then, in 1969, humans walked on the Moon.

Science fiction has always had this strange habit of becoming reality.

Writers imagined robots, intelligent machines, video communication, space travel and incredible technologies long before ordinary people could imagine using them in everyday life. What sounded ridiculous in one generation sometimes became completely normal in another.

And now we have artificial intelligence.

For me, AI—especially tools such as ChatGPT—is one of those moments.

It still feels a little like science fiction.

You type a question into a computer, and the computer answers you. You can ask another question. You can challenge the answer. You can ask it to explain something differently. You can research history, discuss an idea, work on a story, translate something, organize information or explore a subject much more deeply.

And it happens within seconds.

AI platforms seem to be appearing everywhere. At first, artificial intelligence was praised as something revolutionary. Now, increasingly, it is also criticized. Some people are fascinated by it. Others are frightened by it. Some believe it will improve our lives, while others warn that it may destroy jobs, creativity or even our ability to think for ourselves.

Those concerns should not simply be dismissed.

But neither should we ignore what AI can already do for ordinary people.

I sometimes think back to my school days.

I once had to prepare a report about Mao Zedong.

Today, a student can type his name into a computer and, within seconds, find biographies, historical documents, timelines, political analyses and information from sources around the world.

That was certainly not how it worked when I was young.

I needed old newspaper articles for my report. There was no Google. There was no online archive waiting for me. There was no little box where I could type a question and immediately receive information.

I had to go to a newspaper office and ask them to find old editions containing the articles I needed. Those newspapers had to be specially reproduced for me. I remember ending up with around fifteen newspapers and paying about fifty Deutsche Mark—a considerable amount of money for a school project at the time.

And that was only to get the information.

Then I still had to sit down, read through everything, find the relevant parts, compare the material and finally write the report.

Today?

Click.

That one word describes an enormous change in human life.

Click.

Information.

Click.

Translation.

Click.

Historical background.

Click.

An explanation of something you did not understand the first time.

It is easy to take this for granted because it has happened so quickly. But when I compare it with the way I had to research something as a schoolgirl, it really does feel like science fiction.

And perhaps the most interesting part is not simply that AI can give us information faster.

It can help people learn differently.

Not everybody learns at the same speed. Not everybody understands a teacher's explanation the first time. Some people need something explained three times, or ten times. Some need examples. Some understand visually. Others need complicated language turned into simple language before they can grasp an idea.

In a traditional classroom, there is often not enough time for that.

A teacher may have twenty or thirty students.

AI has time.

You can ask the same question again.

And again.

You can say, “I don't understand.”

You can ask, “Can you explain it more simply?”

You can ask for an example.

You can go deeper.

For people who struggle with traditional learning, this could create enormous possibilities. Someone who might once have been left behind could suddenly discover abilities that nobody noticed before.

That, to me, is one of the most exciting possibilities of artificial intelligence.

But there must be boundaries.

We cannot simply ignore the ethical questions surrounding AI. Artificial intelligence should serve human beings, not make human intelligence its servant. We should never reach the point where people stop thinking because a machine can think for them.

A tool should remain a tool.

A calculator did not make mathematics unnecessary. A washing machine did not make clothing unnecessary. The automobile did not make destinations unnecessary.

And AI should not make human intelligence unnecessary.

There is also something else that is sometimes forgotten when people predict that artificial intelligence will replace everyone.

Human beings do things that cannot simply be reduced to information.

We still need the goldsmith.

We still need the bricklayer.

We still need the baker, the carpenter and the craftsman who has spent decades learning what his hands can do.

Of course, AI may become part of those professions. An AI system might help design a building, calculate materials or control a machine. It might help a carpenter create plans or help a baker organize production.

But knowing something and doing something are not the same.

A computer can describe how to build a stone wall.

That does not mean it can stand outside in the rain, look at an uneven piece of stone, turn it in its hands and know exactly where it belongs.

That knowledge is human.

So is creativity.

AI can assist creativity. It can help develop an idea, find alternatives, organize thoughts or overcome the terrifying sight of an empty page.

But the reason for creating something still comes from us.

The memory comes from us.

The experience comes from us.

The curiosity comes from us.

And perhaps that is what we need to remember as artificial intelligence becomes increasingly powerful.

The question should not simply be:

What can AI do?

The more important question may be:

What do we want to do with it?

Every major technology changes us quietly.

At first it seems extraordinary.

Then it becomes useful.

Then it becomes normal.

Eventually, a new generation cannot imagine that the world ever existed without it.

There will probably come a time when children find it almost unbelievable that people once traveled to libraries and newspaper offices searching for a single piece of information. They may laugh when someone tells them that research could take days or weeks.

Just as earlier generations laughed at stories about traveling beneath the ocean or flying to the Moon.

Perhaps one hundred years from now, people will look back at our conversations about artificial intelligence and smile at how primitive it all was.

Maybe ChatGPT and today's AI systems will look to them the way an old telephone looks to us.

We cannot know.

But I do know one thing.

Science fiction does not always arrive with a rocket launch, a robot walking through the front door or a spaceship appearing in the sky.

Sometimes it arrives quietly.

You sit down at your computer.

You type a question.

And something answers.

Then, almost without noticing, you begin doing things differently.

You research differently.

You learn differently.

You write differently.

You solve problems differently.

And one day you realize that something you would once have considered impossible has become an ordinary part of your morning.

The future did not knock on the door.

We clicked on it.