“The Rhyme of Tomorrow” — How Would an AI Mark Twain View Attempts at Predicting the Future?

Four colleagues and I were brainstorming on how past technology revolutions offer insights into the large-scale impact of Artificial Intelligence.

Former Harvard professor Jim Ware shared a story of an equestrian invention that shaped the world. Change management author Sheila Cox offered an insightful quote attributed to Mark Twain. Former Deloitte technology strategist Gonzalo Verdugo described the history of bubble bursts, and Tom Johnson, co-founder of Toffler Associates, connected the dots.

I suddenly began channeling Hal Holbrook and wondered if ChatGPT and I could write a poem in the Twain twang that poked fun at trying to predict the future of new technologies like AI.

The result of this human/AI collaboration can be viewed as a video recitation of the poem ‘The Rhyme of Tomorrow’ or read below.

The Rhyme of Tomorrow

Good evening, fellow time travelers.

I’ve been invited to speak about the future, which is a subject I know just enough about to be dangerous and not enough about to be useful.

So rather than predict what’s coming, let’s take a friendly look at what keeps happening.

History Rhymes, Humans Misjudge

“History don’t repeat itself,” they say, “but it sure does rhyme.”
Which is a comfort, if you like your mistakes in fresh costumes.
We keep one eye on yesterday and both eyes on tomorrow,
and still bump into the present like a fence post in the fog.
A man will predict the future with great confidence
and then act surprised when it behaves like a mule.

Polite Inventions, Rude Results

Every new invention shows up polite as a preacher on Sunday,
shaking hands and promising to help with the chores.
By Thursday, it’s rearranged the household,
borrowed your chair and taught the dog new opinions.
We call this progress, mostly because disruption sounds rude.

Quiet Tools, Sharp Edges

Take the stirrup — just a little loop for your boot,
hardly worth a sermon.
But once a fellow could stay seated while swinging a sword,
he got ideas above his station and below the belt.
Before long, there were knights, landlords, borders, and taxes,
all hitching a ride on a piece of leather.
History likes to work quiet in the shop
and loud in the consequences.

Ink Escapes, Truth Grows Up

The printing press was built to give scribes time to digest their gruel.
Instead, it taught ideas how to run away from their parents.
We took up reading, arguing, and correcting kings.
Religion got into lively arguments with itself.
And truth began traveling without a chaperone,
while ink proved harder to arrest than criminals.
A machine for books, rewired belief itself.

Silos Fill, Communities Wither

Then came machines for the farm,
saving backs and packing neighbors off to the city.
Crops grew while porches emptied.
We grew more corn than conversation.
The land grew wealthy on fewer names.
Efficiency smiled and called it a fine bargain.

Nature Fades, Time Is Crowned

Then came steam, puffing in like a horse with bad manners,
smoking with ambition, promising muscle without sweat
Factories rose, and time clocks replaced sunrise.
Children learned to punch in before they learned to fish.
Progress traded nature’s schedule for production quotas.

Invisible Power, Blind Dependence

Electricity chased the dark into the shadows.
Night became a suggestion instead of a rule.
Light obeyed switches while cold sat politely in boxes.
Voices outran distance, leaving patience behind.
Civilization began humming to itself
like a cat that discovered indoor living.

We Jump, Shallows Swallow

Computers showed up as quiet clerks who never complained.
Work turned into glowing rectangles and blinking cursors.
Then the internet connected us so thoroughly
we trip over each other in our own living rooms.
Attention went scarce. Opinions ran wild.
We gained the whole world in our pockets
and our thinking had to compete with notifications.

Optimism Repeats, Prediction Rhymes

Every generation predicts comfort and sensible behavior.
Every generation receives surprises and fresh embarrassment.
History keeps rhyming because human optimism
keeps writing the chorus.

AI Deals, Marked Cards

And now along comes artificial intelligence,
clearing its throat like a newcomer at the poker table.
Some say it’ll teach every child and fix every mess
and finally let humanity take a well-earned nap.
That sounds pleasant, provided somebody sets the alarm.

Others say it’ll steal jobs and confuse truth
and put judgment in the hands of machines
that were never properly raised.
We get nervous when our tools start acting smarter
than the card shark doing the dealing.

Long-Shots, Fingers Crossed

Then come the long-shot bets —
machines that make us wiser instead of lazier,
systems that help truth keep its footing in a slippery world,
not one grand mechanical boss of creation,
but a swarm of small helpers minding their manners.

Expect Change, Listen for Echoes

History won’t repeat the stirrup or the other monster inventions.
But it’ll rhyme with their mischief and unintended couplets.
We’ll predict tools and receive transformations.
And someday we’ll look back on this moment
and admit the future behaved exactly like history —
only with a better disguise and whistling a familiar tune.

Thank you, my friends.
I’ll let the future take it from here.
I’ve done enough damage already.

Good night.