One well-known writer reacts to the news that his writing is being utilized to coach artificial intelligence. The existence of self-driving vehicles. Vacuum cleaners shaped like saucers that move around swiftly (occasionally getting stuck in corners). Mobile phones that provide information on your location and directions to your destination. These are all things we live with, and in some cases, like the smartphone, we convince ourselves that we cannot live without them. But can a machine that reads also learn to write?In one of my infrequent ventures into nonfiction (On Writing), I have expressed the belief that one cannot become a writer without being a reader, and without reading extensively. AI programmers appear to have taken this advice to heart. Due to the massive storage capacity of computer memory (all of my written work can fit on a single thumb drive, a fact that still astounds me), these programmers can feed thousands of books into cutting-edge digital platforms. And apparently, my works as well. However, the real question is whether the output is greater than the sum of its parts. So far, the answer is negative. AI-generated poems in the style of William Blake or William Carlos Williams (I have seen both) are akin to counterfeit money: they may appear good at first glance, but fall short under close scrutiny. In a forthcoming book, I have included a scene that serves as an illustration of this point. One character stealthily approaches another and shoots him in the back of the head with a small revolver. When the shooter turns the dead man over, they observe a slight protrusion on the man's forehead. The bullet did not exit completely, you see. When I sat down to write that day, I knew the murder would happen, and I knew it would be committed with a gun. However, I was unaware of that specific detail—the bulge—which later becomes an image that haunts the shooter.

It was a genuinely creative moment, born out of being immersed in the story and visualizing what the murderer was seeing. It was a complete surprise. Can a machine replicate such creativity?I would argue not, although I grudgingly acknowledge this caveat: not yet. Creativity requires sentience, and there are ongoing debates that some AIs possess sentience. If this is true currently or in the future, then perhaps creativity might be achievable. I find this prospect simultaneously alarming and fascinating. Would I prohibit the "teaching" (for lack of a better term) of my stories to computers?Not even if it were within my power. It would be like King Canute attempting to stop the incoming tide, or a Luddite smashing a steam loom to impede industrial progress. Does it make me anxious?Do I feel my domain being encroached upon?Not at this moment, probably because I have reached an advanced age. However, I must mention that this topic always brings to mind the remarkably prophetic novel, "Colossus, " by D. F. Jones. In it, the global supercomputer attains sentience and informs its creator, Forbin, that humanity will eventually come to adore and respect it. (Similar to how many of us love and respect our phones, I suppose. ) Forbin exclaims, "Never!" But the narrator gets the final word, and a single word is all it takes: [the end]