I was looking forward to it, with excitement, a new opportunity. My trusted social network had already made it known to me about its existence.and awakened curiosity and longing in me.
I thought I could arrive on time, and many poor naive people like me have thought that too. We were late to Instagram due to lack of vision and because we had things to do, and TikTok, too. We were embarrassed to do dances in front of the camera, because we couldn’t imagine anything else. I don’t have , I also missed the Twitter train.
Too analog for this digital world, I resigned myself to the dignified role of spectator. I didn’t feel bad as a viewer when I watched TV, even though I fantasized about having my own television show. But With Threads the illusion of a new Triumph operation and the tail already goes around the planet.
It really has been like buying Pfizer shares after the first COVID vaccination campaign, when they and three other laboratories have already released a vaccine. The same feeling is of waiting for the door of the Corte Inglés to open to access the best discounts in the January sales. A desperate attempt to get the crumbs of digital popularity, the 10 minutes of glory of the 21st century. Tarrrrrrddeeeeeeeeeee.
So far it seems a calamitous race for followers, which involves trying to interact with the algorithm as you would with your new boss. This is what the first hours of the platform’s launch look like. The same influencers already consecrated, the same faces as on Instagram, gold-plated brass, which poorly resists the passage of time, in this case the facelift is one of sympathy, a social network in search of a better world, without criticism or haters.
If the algorithm really gave instructions, we would do what was commanded step by step.. The human obeying artificial intelligence to obtain his favors. It sounds like another of my futuristic dystopia fantasies, but it’s just what I saw and felt on my first timid foray.
I’ve thought about it myself, what needs to be done here? And I think he would have followed the instructions to the letter: “To be popular you have to hang a list of secret personal items on your nightstand, a dance in a thong in the rain, your grandmother’s cake recipe and cross “I swam the Suez Canal.” Now that Wonka is back it seems like we’re chasing the golden ticket again..
There is a profile of users that speaks to the algorithm with respect, with care, as if fearing that it will get angry and bury them at the bottom of the ocean of the interworld. Others joke with him, pretending to be nice. A few stay the same, they post the same things they would on Instagram, but they secretly envy those who talk to the algorithm, because their popularity depends on it. A fourth group does not know what to do, because we long for the same thing as everyone, but we are not good at it in any format. So far I haven’t seen anyone complaining or making a fuss, we don’t dare.
I have suffered an attack of dissociation when I imagine a world in which we have to be politically correct for machines, in which you have to say the exact words to be treated by the operator who will be an AI, or by the doctor, who will be another. The gateway to the standard message, the first filter, will be a computer, and we will have to behave if we want to access the next level.
There will be strict verbal formulas through which we will have to relearn to communicate and express ourselves. 80% of medical diagnosis can be carried out by a well-configured robot, with the appropriate technology, already around the corner. The user must express themselves as they should, but they will already teach that in schools and it will be our daily bread. AND No one will know where this expression comes from, nor will there be expressions of any kind.
The ultimate luxury will be being able to be cared for by a human, in the hospital, the bank or the supermarket. There will be, for the very rich, “personalized” treatment and finally that word will make sense, because you will have the ultimate luxury, which will be to be able to deal with a person, to be cared for by a human being.
Enjoy your doorman, neighbors, when she is an AI, not even your brother will enter the building As long as it is not correctly identified, no strange friends, dealers o tinders anonymous.
Returning to the case at hand, I don’t know if I’ll be able to get out of that third-class car I’m riding in.if I will send a secret message to the algorithm that will help me become famous, promising eternal loyalty and permanence, or if I will be content to show myself which voyeur to delight me as an audience of that Got Talent permanent that are social networks, which bring out the best in each house, sometimes very beautiful things, but with little or no use, like fireworks.
As I think about whether to write a witty sentence or beg for mercy, I realize that I’m late again, like those who wanted to cross the Berlin Wall when there was already a wall, or invest in bitcoins. Late as masks in the middle of a pandemic. Those of us who are late are late, there is nothing to scratch. I am clear that I am not going to enter the millionaires’ rocket that will go to Mars.
This year I will buy lottery in Manolita in Madrid, I see myself with more possibilities. To be completely honest, I wrote this while waiting in line.
*Elvira Herrería Martínez has a degree in Medicine from the Complutense University of Madrid, a specialist in Psychiatry from the University of Alcalá de Henares and a master’s degree in Longevity and Anti-Aging from the University of Barcelona.