RORSCHACH
I don’t fear artificial intelligence, I fear people who fear artificial intelligence.
It’s the 1960s. A psychologist stares at his patient — a balding, middle-aged foreman with a cigarette in his hand, and a curl of smoke around him like a halo on an acid trip. The psychologist holds up an inkblot, an ambiguous, black splatter on a white flashcard, and asks his patient what he sees. The thinking is his patient, not willing or otherwise able to…