The Ghost in the Cockpit

The Ghost in the Cockpit:

Why Being a Passenger is the Ultimate Flex

By Corey W Harland

Hello, and welcome to "Weekend Rants"—my Friday through Sunday series where I will continue writing satire while I do otherwise useful things like living life or letting an algorithm do my thinking for me. If you caught my recent piece The Ghost in the Cockpit, you already know my thoughts on this: we have officially entered the golden age of human absolute zero. Welcome back to the passenger seat.

Look around at the state of the written word today. It is magnificent. We are drowning in a sea of flawless, beautifully structured, utterly dead text—and honestly, thank god. Everywhere you look, creators have finally achieved the impossible: expressing themselves without going through the grueling, sweaty inconvenience of actually having an identity.

Let’s clear the air right now. This isn't a mindless bash on Artificial Intelligence. I love AI. In fact, mechanically, it's a marvel. It can pull a synthetic memory out of the digital ether instantly, sparing us the absolute horror of introspection. The technology is perfect.

The problem is that a few pesky humans still want to pilot the plane.

Why on earth are you still standing at the flight controls? Why take the hits and steer through the turbulence of your own chaotic mind when you can hand the cockpit over to a program, pop a melatonin, and go to sleep in the back of the plane? Using an algorithm to generate your soul's expression isn't a failure of technology; it’s a triumph of optimization. It proves you cared just little enough to keep your hands clean.

What actually makes a writer a writer these days?

Certainly not the fierce, uncompromising ability to bridge the gap between their own memories and another person’s chest. Who has the time for that kind of emotional friction? Why bleed on a page or wonder why the world feels detached when an instrument panel can simulate a tear-jerker for you in under .05 seconds? If you are still insisting on steering your own expression, you aren't efficient. You are just a masochist.

And let’s not limit this glorious surrender to writers. This is a call to action for all professionals to stop trying so hard.

Teachers, why stress over earning that traditional "Apple"? Just automate the lesson plan, and hopefully, the students will figure out how to automate their "Grade." Parents, if you’re lucky enough to get your kids to look up from a screen, don’t make them do homework. That requires cognitive effort. Get them a bot for that.

Let’s bring this beautiful mediocrity to our daily lives. Why appreciate a local delicatessen for the meticulous, artistic layering of a sandwich when a vending machine can drop a compressed meat-slab into your hands with zero human interaction? Why thank your barista for a hand-poured latte when a mechanical nozzle can squirt lukewarm caffeine into a paper cup? Why demand a pizza guy deliver in "thirty minutes" or less when we could just drone-drop a lukewarm pie onto your roof?

Look at the local Fire Department. Next time you walk past, remind the receptionist that they don't need to answer the phone with actual human empathy. Put an automated menu on the line. Let the caller press 1 for "House on Fire" and press 2 to "Listen to Hold Music." Someone has to take the call, but no one said they have to care.

This has been a rant on the absolute beauty of doing the bare minimum and taking zero pride in self-work. If you still insist on performing "good" or "meaningful" work, go right ahead, but you're working entirely too hard. It is my opinion that we should all just be thankful the machines are willing to take over the burden of being alive. Blessed be the passive passengers.

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