by: Wired Magazine
Why hire a human when a machine can do it better and faster?
Let’s face it: The robots are coming. Before we know it, we’re all going to be replaced by mechanical versions of ourselves. And a lot of people might find this scary—but not me.
For one thing, do you have any idea how much free time I’m going to have? I’ll have a robot to do my job for me. Instead of getting up early, rushing to work, sitting in meetings for hours, and then hosting a show every night, here’s how my typical day will go: sleep until noon, go to the gym, take a bath, kick back with a crossword puzzle and a tall glass of buttermilk, get caught up on Homeland, eat an omelet, play with my dog, eat another omelet, flip through the SkyMall catalog, take another bath, eat one last omelet, then fall asleep in my waterbed by 11 pm with Sounds of the Rainforest wafting from my white-noise machine. In other words, life will be perfect. (Also, I’ll never go to the gym—that part was a lie.)
On the weekends, I’ll hang out with my robot buddy. (His name will be Blarvex 840. I’ll call him Jim.) We’ll walk my dog together along the West Side Robot Motorway—I’ll sip a Jamba Juice, he’ll munch playfully on a handful of loose bolts. He’ll tell me how things are going at the show. And I’ll tell him about all the projects I finally have time to work on now that he’s replaced me at Late Night. Important projects I’ve been putting off for years—like my still-unfinished version of Leisure Suit Larry: The Musical; or my Brady Bunch fanfic novel, 50 Shades of Greg; or my quest to finally master C++ so I can finish that program to help catalog my VHS library. Or my tireless campaign to legalize heroin.
After we’re done hanging out, we’ll head our separate ways—he to his industrial-grade docking station on the Lower East Side, I to my apartment building filled with Scandinavian furniture and carbon-based life-forms. And I’ll watch him as he walks away, looking very much like me—just with slightly smoother skin and more manageable hair (almost too manageable, if you ask me; it’s actually sort of creepy). And I’ll smile and I’ll think to myself, I really like that dude.