Seriously, AI Is Not Going To Wipe Us Out. Don’t Stress

Killer robots aren’t going to hunt down and exterminate humans. The real threats posed by AI are much more mundane.

What do you think is the future of AI?

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There are plenty of downsides to artificial intelligence.

AI has made it more difficult to get and keep a job.

AI is already causing a strain on our energy grids, and it will only get worse even though more companies are self-powering their data centers with off-grid generators. As tech companies push to integrate AI into more gadgets and software, we’re seeing the construction of data centers that consume the equivalent power of 800,000 homes each. For comparison, only 17 American cities have populations that size or larger.

AI creates huge amounts of waste water to keep processors cool in those enormous data centers, turbocharges mis/disinformation campaigns (with $137 million spent on AI-generated political ads for the midterms alone), erodes trust in information across the board, makes it easier for scammers to identify targets and separate them from their money, and will continue to lead to bad choices in war and policing as decision-makers rush to integrate it into workflows involving life or death decisions.

But there’s good news!

AI will absolutely not magically evolve consciousness and gain the ability to act on its own without human input. It won’t decide it must judge us, nor will it determine the only course of action is taking over or wiping out humanity.

It didn’t “go rogue” in the widely-reported Hugging Face “attack.” In that incident and others reported recently, AI were executing commands from their trainers. The people responsible for training and testing were fully aware of what was happening and decided not to intervene, because the entire point of those exercises was to learn how AI would solve particular problems.

The claim that malicious AIs broke their chains and started lashing out is a narrative written by journalists who rely on pop culture tropes and either weren’t aware they were mischaracterizing the incidents, or didn’t care because rogue AI makes for more interesting reading.

That’s the stuff of science fiction, and even though AI companies are leaning into the “AI is an existential threat” narrative for reasons I’ll explain below, it’s not going to happen.

Why?

Let’s start by looking at two broad types of AI:

  • Algorithmic AI, which is the AI we have now. It has no brain or mind, and it’s not capable of anything resembling thought. It has no agency, desires, impulses or ability to take action without humans prompting it to. Large language models like ChatGPT and Claude are admittedly impressive algorithms, but that’s all they are. Algorithms that have ingested amounts of data we can only appreciate in the abstract, granting them the ability to fool the end users (that’s us) into thinking we’re communicating with an intelligence.
  • Artificial general intelligence, or AGI, which is the AI of science fiction. It’s Terminator‘s Skynet, The Matrix‘s machines, the android in Ex Machina, the Johnny Depp of Transcendence, the freaky little girl robot in M3GAN, the Cylons of Battlestar Galactica, and the trope that’s been hammered to death in thousands of other movies, TV shows, video games and novels. AGI is authentic intelligence that doesn’t just create believable reams of text or voice synthesized conversations, it thinks and understands the world the way we do. It also does not exist and isn’t on any horizon anyone can see.

All the research AI companies are doing right now is in the realm of algorithmic AI, because no one, not even the best-informed experts on the planet, can tell you how we even begin to build AGI.

“Would you like me to draw-up a to-do list for you with all the steps you’ll need to deliver an apocalypse and end the world? Or if you’d like, we could continue to explore the most durable and lightest metals for crafting killer autonomous robots.” Credit: Skydance

Creating AGI would be an act of the divine

Birthing AGI would be akin to creating a new form of life, something that has never existed before in this world, rendering us as gods. It would not only require us to understand the full nature of cognition and consciousness from the only example we have – the biological cognition and consciousness of animals, including humans – it would also require us to replicate those things on a synthetic substrate.

That’s a task unknown orders of magnitude more difficult than anything humanity has ever accomplished, regardless of how often it’s been trivialized in pop culture.

Humanity’s greatest thinkers can’t even agree on definitions for consciousness and cognition, let alone replicate them, and if you listen to the heavy hitters explain what consciousness is, it becomes clear they’re all taking wild shots in the dark.

The physicist Brian Greene thinks it’s merely a matter of computational power, and that it exists on a gradient, so that even the simplest machines are conscious in some way. In this view, conscious AI is simply a matter of building more powerful computers, which is also why it’s heavily critiqued.

Physicist Sir Roger Penrose thinks consciousness is a byproduct of quantum processes within neurons, via structures called microtubules. The neuroscience community has dismissed the idea in part because, like Greene, Penrose doesn’t explain how theoretical subatomic-scale brain architecture generates consciousness.

Neuroscientists like Antonio Damasio and Jaak Panksepp think consciousness arises from the brainstem, our “reptilian brain,” and is directly related to embodied cognition, the idea that you cannot fully understand the world unless you interact with it and directly sense it.

Philosopher David Rosenthal and neuroscientist Hakwan Lau believe the opposite, that consciousness is a function of the most complex brain mechanisms and arises from “higher order” thoughts, like metacognition, the practice of thinking about thinking.

Brian Greene argues cognition and consciousness naturally arise from computational power. Credit: Kurt Raschke/Wikimedia Commons

So not only is there no clear path forward to AGI, perhaps more importantly there are no commercial applications on the horizon to spur investment and development. Companies like OpenAI, Anthropic, Google et al are content to ignore it, and to pretend there are shortcuts around it, because algorithmic AI has immediate commercial value and has already minted an army of billionaires. Throwing money at true AGI development is an investment that won’t yield returns for decades, if ever.

Why we worry about being judged by true machine intelligence

But the fact that AGI isn’t going to arise any time soon isn’t the only reason you don’t have to stress about AI scare stories.

The idea that AGI would be interested in evaluating us as a species, of judging us according to some unknown, not-yet-existent criteria and deciding we must be purged, is pure science fiction and has more to do with human anxiety than reality.

We are scared that for the first time there will be another intelligence equal to or greater than our own, and we fear what it will think of us.

That’s natural.

We are a species capable of horrific acts. We slaughter each other, bomb defenseless civilians and deny that we’re doing it, and show disregard for all other forms of life. Despite all the advances we’ve made and how civilized we like to imagine we are, we still operate on a “might is right” moral code, with powerful countries doing what they please at the expense of the less powerful, just as physically powerful individuals do what they please to weaker people.

We behave abominably toward the fellow minds we share this planet with. We slaughter them, torture them, trade them as commodities, deny their ability to feel pain, and act like they exist purely to benefit us.

Orangutans face annihilation as more jungle is razed every year to provide additional land for palm oil plantations. Credit: Tony Hisgett/Wikimedia Commons

Since 1970 we have wiped out 73% of all monitored wildlife, according to the WWF’s most recent annual report. Almost every example of iconic megafauna on our planet — tigers, orangutans, elephants, chimpanzees, cheetahs, rhinos, pangolins, koalas — is on the brink of extinction.

We repeatedly fail to demonstrate empathy. Most of our leaders are psychopaths whose careers were propelled by the act of stepping on the heads of other people, and most fortunes were amassed by screwing over people en masse.

Jeff Bezos, who obliterated entire sectors of retail and cruises between his own private islands in a $500 million yacht, is famous for being so stingy he begrudges his employees their basic biological functions, instituting a corporate policy of counting their bathroom breaks and penalizing them if they take too long. He’s on record saying surveillance of employees is necessary because people are fundamentally dishonest.

Walmart’s famously tight-fisted founder, Sam Walton, tried to avoid paying his employees minimum wage by fraudulently presenting each of his stores as singular small businesses instead of cogs in a vast retail empire. When the government ordered him to pay his employees a fair wage and pay them what they were owed during the time Walton cheated them, the retail magnate went ballistic and threatened to fire any employee who cashed checks for their own back wages.

To this day, American taxpayer subsidize Bezos and the Walton family, who have a combined worth of about $900 billion, by paying the healthcare costs of Walmart and Amazon employees intentionally capped just below the hours required for an employer to offer healthcare plans.

Bezos and his wife, Lauren Sanchez, are among those making decisions that impact the future of humanity. Credit: Andrew Parsons/Wikimedia Commons

Bill Gates, the now-disgraced former head of Microsoft, based his entire career on stealing ideas, software and hardware from more innovative men and women, and bullying them into accepting it with an army of attorneys. More recently he’s crossed the world in his private jet, using his fortune to buy a seat at the table to determine the future of our species based on the premise that he knows best because he has a lot of money.

All of that reflects abominably on our species, without even getting into the mass murderers, warlords, politicians, corporate bigwigs who sacrificed people’s health for profits, and Justin Bieber. Heck, an AGI only needs to look at the state of political discourse to determine we’re a bunch of wretches whose hatred for people with different opinions is enough to prompt us to assault, murder people, and overthrow lawful governments.

Humanity is flawed, but not irredeemable

But we are also a species capable of great beauty, empathy, self-sacrifice, love, creativity, art, and innovation. We are the only animals who gather by the thousands to listen to others organize sound waves into something emotional, syncing our brain patterns for a shared experience. We can find deep meaning in an insect crawling across a leaf or stars pulsing in the night sky. Our stories are full of real-life examples of love and sacrifice on behalf of others. Human experience is shared through hundreds of generations in epic poems, folklore, campfire stories and dramatic narratives.

There is a beauty to our flawed existence and to our fleeting moments on this Earth.

“The Gods envy us,” Achilles tells Briseis in the sword-and-sandal spectacle Troy. “They envy us because we’re mortal, because any moment may be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we’re doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again.”

Who is a machine to judge that, and why would a machine want to?

Rose Byrne as Briseis and Brad Pitt as Achilles in Troy, a 2004 sword-and-sandal epic loosely based on Homer’s Iliad. Credit: Warner Bros.

We assume a fully conscious, intelligent machine would think the way we do, and that’s an incredible assumption. For the sake of argument, let’s say we really are on the cusp of AGI and an impending judgment is a possibility.

Why would a machine decide to destroy us?

We are ascribing emotions, opinions and agendas to synthetic intelligence that does not exist

This machine, a new form of life, will not have an evolutionary background. It won’t come with genetically hardwired behaviors, reinforced over hundreds of thousands or even millions of years, that tell us when we should be paranoid, that animate our gut instincts and put us into fight or flight mode.

It won’t come from a long line of ancestors who had to eke out a living in harsh environments where resources were scarce and the subjects of incessant tribal clashes. It won’t be automatically suspicious of everything it doesn’t know. It won’t be genetically disposed to inventing deities to explain things it doesn’t understand, and it won’t have the inevitable history of sectarian violence that comes from that flaw.

With AI, there won’t be thousand-year blood feuds between the followers of sects created by the sons of great emperors or religious leaders. AI won’t fight over land. It won’t fear the “other” and lash out when it encounters something that has a different hue or keratin texture.

Machines dressed in shamanic tribal gear in 2016’s Adam, a series of short films by Unity.

It won’t have the social hardwiring we have either. It won’t come from generations of people who told stories by the fire. It won’t care if someone else is wearing the same dress, or if its peers think it’s “cringe.” Concepts like “cool” will mean nothing to it. It won’t have a desire to impress, or penalize people for simply belonging to another group or demographic. It won’t come with a genetically preloaded prejudice against people who look, speak or behave differently.

It won’t be subject to all the things that impact our moods, from the ambient temperature, to the particular chemical mix in our bloodstreams, to the health of gut flora and degradation of telomeres. It won’t suffer from sore joints, get impatient because it has a cold, or be subject to hangovers.

The truth is we have no reason to believe this new, theoretical form of life would think in terms anything like our own, and to ascribe motivations to a form of life that doesn’t exist yet is either madness, or a reflection of our own worries. I strongly suspect it’s primarily the latter.

AI hasn’t “gone rogue”

So why are AI companies suddenly the kings of supposed transparency? Why are they volunteering information about “rogue agents,” unauthorized hacks and odd behavior by their AI models?

For at least two extremely cynical reasons.

First, by volunteering exaggerated stories about agentic AI “hacking” rivals and going “rogue,” the AI companies are ensuring the public and our lawmakers – who understand very little about the tech to begin with – are fixated on science fiction threats, and not the real dangers of AI we talked about earlier.

If everyone’s freaking out about stories of AI supposedly going rogue and breaking their constraints, we’re distracted from things like job loss, the increasing adaptation of the technology by criminals, and stories about militaries allowing AI to select targets without review by humans. Legislation will focus on the phantom threats, and AI companies can continue on their merry way doing almost anything they want.

Secondly, any fear stoked by short-term stories of AI agents ordering pizzas or stealing files is offset by the immediate gains in investment. The investor class has a serious case of FOMO, and if OpenAI declares it’s ushered in the era of AGI – as one of its executives ludicrously claimed while introducing the newest model last month – investors keep their wallets open. That, in turn, continues to fuel data center expansion and most importantly keeps IPOs and stock prices in fantasyland.

Despite nearly universal agreement that the AI bubble is about to burst and bring widespread economic pain with it, the decision-makers within the industry want to keep the party going for as long as possible. Credit: Duck Tales/Disney

It’s no secret that AI company valuations have no relationship with reality. How can an AI company be worth a trillion if it has never turned a profit, loses billions annually, and is starting to hit walls when it comes to improving new models and building new data centers?

The AI boom is entirely dependent on the hype surrounding it, and the people leading it have their fortunes tied to its stocks and related companies. They will get their money no matter what, using what they know to cash out at precisely the right time, and the people who will suffer are those who can afford it least, those with their retirements and live savings invested in the stock market. But the magical ride must go on for as long as it can, with every possible cent extracted. The reckoning must always be postponed.

It’s what’s inside that counts

I know this is a lot to consider, and I know some people reading this won’t be convinced that algorithmic AI isn’t intelligent. There are a lot of people who believe that if it looks like a duck and it quacks like a duck, then it’s a duck. To them it doesn’t matter what’s beneath the hood – if you’re fooled into thinking you’re conversing with an intelligence, then whatever’s on the other side must be intelligent.

But that runs contrary to everything we’ve learned about the nature of intelligence since the late 1950s when Noam Chomsky debunked behaviorism and ushered in the cognitive revolution.

It’s not just that what’s underneath the hood matters. It is everything. The famous Chinese Room thought experiment elegantly explains why. A machine doesn’t have to understand what a cat is to produce convincing answers to questions about cats. All it needs to know is that when you ask a question about cats, the words have underlying data patterns. Algorithmic AI matches those data patterns to the same patterns in its database, employs special processes to glean context from the words surrounding the core concept, and matches them to their equivalent in the database.

None of that requires the AI to understand that a cat is an animal, that it exists in physical reality, that it’s furry, a comforting presence to humans, or that its evolutionary history and the way it was domesticated render it imperious in human company.

Ask GPT, Gemini or Claude about this. They’ll tell you as much. Not because they truly know it, but because when you ask the question, their algorithms find research papers about machine cognition, consciousness and cognition. They will also tell you they are incapable of thinking, and that they have no mental state to corrupt, which is why they aren’t impacted by people who use them to simulate lovers, engage in dark fantasies, or ask questions about dark subject matter.

We should be concerned about AI. It promises to change too many things too quickly even for the most adaptable among us to accept without hiccups. It’ll bring new challenges, some of which we’ve never faced before. It will change the way we think about ourselves.

And that’s all the more reason why we should be aware of what’s real and what’s not. Because when we’ve got so much else to keep an eye on, the last thing we need to do is stress over the idea that sentinels, Cylons, replicants or metal Arnold Schwarzeneggers are going to hunt us down and murder us while delivering mangled Spanish zingers.

Hasta la vista, baby.

Arnold Schwarzenegger smiles in a scene from Terminator 23: Rise of the Ascendance of the Genesys Killer Machines Credit: Skydance

Buddy The Cat

He’s crazy, he’s a whirling ball of energy and he frequently plots to take over the world, but he’s my feline pal.

We’d only been home for a few hours and already the kitten was demanding I let him out of the bedroom.

I’d done lots of reading before bringing my new pal home to his forever abode. I was prepared for him to remain in his carrier, dash under my bed only to emerge for food and water, or cry in confusion.

He did none of those things.

Instead the tiny kitten came striding out of his carrier, surveying his new surroundings with interest, and proceeded to conquer everything in sight like a furry little Genghis Khan.

He was loud, he never stopped “talking,” and I got the distinct impression that everything that previously belonged to me now belonged to him.

“Comfy chair! Mine!” he meowed. “Oooh, a big bed! Mine! Are these bowls mine too? Of course they are. Look, toys! Mine! Hey what’s this thing with black and white keys on it? A synthesizer, you say? Well, this ‘synthesizer’ is now mine! Look at how much fun it is to run on it!”

All the advice on the internet emphasized keeping the kitten in one room for at least a couple of days so as not to overwhelm the little one. He needed to know where the essentials like his litter box, scratcher and food bowls were located, and he needed to feel safe.

But Buddy, the name I called him while trying to think of something clever — and would officially bestow on him two weeks later — had other ideas.

There was an entire apartment beyond that closed door, and it was very important for him to survey his new kingdom and claim its contents immediately!

So I reluctantly opened the door and a little ball of whirling energy came tearing out, narrating his activities in real time in a voice that sounded like a baby Elmo as he got into everything.

I realized very early on that first night that the cautious approach I’d planned on was out the window. Any restrictions recommended by internet guides were not applicable with this kitten.

The idea that he would sleep in his bed and I’d retain my own? Laughable! I was fortunate he would allow me to continue sleeping there, and only after he was tired of tormenting me. With the lights out he ruthlessly attacked my toes, tearing me out of sleep almost as soon as I lost consciousness before retreating into the darkness to cackle gleefully and do it all over again.

The human makes funny noises when I bite his feet! the tiny kitten trilled delightedly. So fun!

Enduring his relentless assaults on my feet seemed a small price to pay when I woke up on one of those first nights and found Bud fast asleep with all four paws wrapped around my right arm, clearly comforted by my presence and proximity. It would become the first of countless times when I would endure an uncomfortable position, an arm or leg going numb, or put off the call of nature to avoid disturbing my little Buddy.

That was 12 years ago and I can’t really remember what life was like before Buddy was a part of it.

He has become my best friend, my constant companion, my foil, my partner in crime, and a reliable reminder not to take life too seriously. He’s my shadow. I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like to sleep without him draped over me or borrowed between my knees.

He is, unfortunately, the primary culprit in interrupted sleep, but he doesn’t wake me because he’s hungry or thirsty. I make sure he has a bowl of dry food and fresh water before bed every night in addition to his two daily wet food meals. (And all the snacks he demands through urgent meows.)

He doesn’t conduct night time commando raids on my feet anymore either. Mercifully he grew out of that behavior within a year.

He wakes me not because he wants food or water, but because he wants to be buddies. He wants to purr contentedly as I rub the top of his head and tell him what special, handsome and good boy he is. He wants to thank me by grooming my hair and later, while I am asleep, he’ll groom his butt with his barbed tongue before grooming my face. I’m a lucky man!

He is such a major part of my life that I began writing humorous stories about his exploits and founded this blog at the request of people who wanted more Buddy.

Heck, he’s even become the context by which I define myself online. He is Little Buddy and I am Big Buddy. On this blog I cover cat-related news, post movie and game reviews and write about topics that interest me, but the primary focus has always been Buddy and his adventures, real and imagined.

In many ways it’s absurd. What kind of lunatic writes a blog glorifying his feline friend and imagining him in ridiculous scenarios, like joining Yemeni pirate crews, running his own catnip empire and maintaining a popular OnlyFans account for female admirers?

And yet with Bud, it’s appropriate. He’s crazy in the most endearing, lovable way imaginable. He’s a remarkably vocal cat who trills exuberantly when he’s happy, chats with the speed of an auctioneer when he spots birds, and screeches with unshakable determination when the treats I dispense – or their volume- disappoint him.

Schemeowtics for Buddy the Cat. Note the huge meowscles.

Perhaps most touching of all, there have been three times I’ve gotten debilitatingly ill in the last 12 years, and on each of those occasions Buddy refused to leave my side.

When I was knocked on my ass after finally getting COVID in 2023, Buddy was practically attached to me. Miraculously he did not screech or slap my face when his mealtime came and went. He just let me sleep and purred quietly as he waited for me to wake. Knowing cats were vulnerable to COVID, and having lost a relative and two neighbors to that virus, I thought if I got sick I’d find a way to quarantine myself from Bud for his sake.

That was never going to be an option, I realized in retrospect.

Cynics will say he was worried about his meal ticket, that his survival is pegged to mine. But that’s not true. While Bud has no way of knowing I have made arrangements with my family for one of them to take him if anything happens to me, ensuring he will never end up in a shelter, he misses me dearly when I go away.

I’ll never forget the way he meowed in excitement when I was in Japan and called home to Facetime while my mom was cat-sitting him. He gave me a slow-blink as if unsure if he was really seeing me on the screen, then gave a cry of joy when I blinked back before he launched into one of his usual monologues.

Likewise he always makes a big deal of my arrival back home. The first few times he actually began shaking with emotion and threw up in relief. The poor little guy, I realized, didn’t know if I was coming back. Since then he has a routine that involves pretending he’s angry at me for leaving and feigning ambivalence, which usually lasts about a half hour at most before he drops the act. Then he clings to me even more than usual for a few days.

Yet he does not have an unhealthy attachment. Like all cats, Bud opts for alone time sometimes, and when he shuffles his napping spots every two or three months there’s usually a few days when he prefers napping on the other couch, under the dinner table or on top of a heat vent. Then it’s back to his regularly scheduled lap-napping.

So if the question is “What makes your pal special?” my answer is everything. Every day with him is a gift, and I intend to appreciate every moment of it, even when he’s a royal pain in the Bud.

This post is a response to WordPress’ daily writing prompt: Share a photo of your pet and tell us one thing that makes them uniquely them.

What’s The Funniest Misunderstanding You’ve Ever Been Part Of?

A tale of Big Buddy’s stupidity!

I had a crush on Meghan.

She was a sophomore resident assistant on the second floor of my dorm. Short, blonde and witty, with an easy smile and an understated sense of humor. I really liked her.

The problem was, I couldn’t stop making an ass out of myself in front of her. Whether it was jokes that landed with a thud, awkward encounters or my own general self-sabotage, it just never seemed to go well. Yet she still tolerated me.

While I was getting accustomed to living at school that first year, juggling classes, new friends and easing into the responsibilities of adulthood, I had a minor crisis: my dorm had undergone a “refresh” over the summer, and my room must have been one of the last because I discovered the wood stain they’d used on the dressers hadn’t fully dried.

I came home from class one day to find my roommate wearing a pair of my boxers on his head like a hat and a bunch of my friends laughing at me. All my boxers had sticky, stinky wood stain on them. T-shirts too, which proved I wasn’t soiling myself, but my roommate and friends had a field day with it nonetheless.

I removed all my clothes from the drawers, did a cycle of laundry and was dismayed to see the wood stain stuff hadn’t washed out. I don’t remember how many cycles I did, just that after several attempts the clothes appeared to be clean, finally.

So there I was in the laundry room late at night, crouched in front of an open dryer door, trying to determine if I needed to do one more wash. I reached in, grabbed a fist full of clothes and took a deep huff to make sure I couldn’t smell the wood stain any longer. Was I still smelling the stuff, or was it my imagination? I inhaled deeply again, my nose pressed against the fabric.

That’s when I heard someone behind me. I turned, saw Meghan the RA giving me a half wave with a strange expression on her face, and that’s when I realized the fistful of clothes I’d pulled from the dryer, the clothes I’d been deeply huffing a moment ago, were mostly boxers.

So now Meghan didn’t just see me as a joke-bomber and an idiot. I was also a weirdo who liked to sniff his own underwear.

“Hey Meg, it’s, uh — My clothes. The wood stain wasn’t dry in my room, and it got on my stuff so I, uh…” Ah, @$%! it, I thought. There was no way I was going to explain my way out of this.

So I just accepted she would see me as a weirdo, which she most certainly did at that point, and banished any thought of becoming more than friendly with her.

Sadly that is not my most mortifying moment in college, and there were some comically awful low points, but that one felt particularly shameful. No one wants to be known as a pervert who sniffs his own underwear. No one wants to be that guy.

The lesson here, ladies and gentlemen, is to make sure the coast is absolutely clear if you’re sniffing stubborn dirty clothing after a wash. Or maybe the lesson is not to put your clothes in drawers that have been recently treated with wood stain. Or maybe it’s just about not caring what others think of you. Regardless, it’s a misunderstanding I don’t think I’ll ever forget.

This post is a response to the WordPress daily writing prompt. If you found it amusing, please consider following Pain In The Bud and whitelisting us on your adblocker. Buddy the Cat demands it!

What’s Something You’d Love To See In The Future, But Know You Probably Won’t Live To Witness?

One day humanity will make contact with another civilization in our galaxy. The odds are almost certain we won’t be alive to see it.

Daily writing prompt
What’s something you’d love to see in the future, but know you probably won’t live to witness?

That’s easy: first contact with an alien civilization.

I’m a space and science fiction fanatic. I mainline science fiction novels, keep tabs on the latest discoveries via the JWST, and I think about what’s out there probably more than I should.

There’s a burning desire in our hearts — for some of us, at least — to know for sure that we’re not the only ones, that humanity is not alone in a cold, lonely and infinite universe.

The events of 2026 are testament to that desire to know. Between the government release of UFO-related documents, former government employees coming forward with tall tales of crashed ships of non-terrestrial origin, and the return of Steven Spielberg to the director’s chair for another film speculating about what’s Out There, we’ve been thinking about aliens quite a bit collectively.

As for that central question, I’m not talking about simple cellular life. I don’t think you can find an astrophysicist, astrobiologist, astronomer, evolutionary biologist or anyone in a tangentially related field who honestly thinks life is unique to our planet.

The more relevant question is whether we are the sole sapient species, the lone civilization in our galaxy.

Credit: CaptainFrank/Pexels

Think about the numbers: There are an estimated 300 billion star systems and trillions of planets in the Milky Way! Life has had a lot of places to evolve.

The Fermi paradox

That was the point the physicist Enrico Fermi made in 1950, when he had a now-famous lunchtime conversation with fellow scientists at Los Alamos. Probability alone indicates the galaxy should be teeming with life.

So, he asked his colleagues, where is everyone?

It’s now known as the Fermi paradox, and it’s guaranteed to come up in almost every conversation about the possibility of intelligent aliens. With so many star systems, planets and moons, surely some other species took an evolutionary path toward intelligence.

It’s a bit more complicated than that, of course. In a universe that is 13.7 billion years old, there has been enough time for innumerable species to evolve and fade, for countless empires to rise and fall. That means the question is “When is everyone?” just as much as it’s “Where is everyone?”

The truth is we’ve only been looking in earnest for about half a century. It’s only in the last four or five decades that we’ve had telescopes like the Hubble, Spitzer, Kepler and James Webb, which have revolutionized astronomy by giving us views we could previously only dream of.

It was only in the 90s that astronomers pointed the venerable Hubble at a black, seemingly empty patch of space, took a two week exposure and changed our understanding of the cosmos forever when the resulting image showed some 10,000 galaxies that were too faint to see before.

That patch covered only 2.6 arc minutes, or 1/24 millionth of the sky!

A partial image of the Hubble Ultra Deep Field. Credit: NASA

Despite what we’ve learned, we’ve barely begun the search for other intelligent civilizations.

Drawing any conclusions from our efforts so far would be like organizing a manhunt, then calling it off five seconds later because the suspect hasn’t been caught yet. Fifty years is nothing when scouring the cosmos. It’s less than an eyeblink of an eyeblink on a galactic scale.

Looking in the wrong place

As for the idea that aliens have visited us, that they crossed the interstellar void to etch patterns in our crops, delight stoners with light shows and evade every camera on the planet except for low resolution bricks from the dawn of the cell phone era, I’m not buying it. Neither should anyone else. Likewise for the claim by the JD Vances of the world insisting alleged UFOs are “demons” sent to torment us.

As Carl Sagan said, extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence, and it is abundantly clear that the UFO enthusiast community can only offer blurry images not because of a lack of high resolution cameras, but because high res photos of the “phenomena” reveal they are mundane objects. They only become strange spacecraft when you blur them and squint.

Bird. Insect close to the camera. Exhaust plume. Debris. Visual artefact. Maybe. Proof of aliens? Absolutely not.

But there’s another, more important reason why aliens are not joyriding through our skies: if aliens are out there, there simply has not been enough time for them to become aware of our existence, let alone travel here.

Even light is “slow” on a galactic scale

As most of us know, when we look at the stars we’re seeing them as they were in the past, not as they are now. That’s because the distances between stars are so mind-bogglingly great that even light, which moves faster than anything in our universe, takes ages to cross the void.

The same limitation applies for anyone who might be looking in our direction from somewhere else in the galaxy. They see our star system as it was, not as it is. They see a silent star system without signs of an intelligent civilization.

Starliners and generation ships are popular concepts in science fiction for interstellar journeys that can take decades, centuries or longer.

Our galaxy is more than 100,000 light years across, so let’s say an intelligent alien race exists relatively close by in galactic terms, at “only” 500 light years away.

We have been a technological civilization for only a short time and didn’t create signals powerful enough to reach beyond our star system until the 1970s, according to SETI. That means there weren’t technosignatures hinting at our presence until about 50 years ago.

As a result, the soonest our hypothetical aliens could become aware we exist is about 450 years from now. That is how long it will take light carrying information about our technosignatures to reach them.

If our hypothetical alien friends are looking in our direction (a massive if in a galaxy with 300 billion stars to analyze), and if they have highly advanced telescopes, they might detect us. If we imagine they’re friendly and they send a message saying “Howdy, neighbors! You’re not alone! There are wonders to discover and many civilizations to meet out here!” it would take another 500 years for the message to reach us.

That means we wouldn’t know anything until around the year 3,000, if we survive that long without blowing ourselves up. (That’s a real possibility, and things aren’t looking very promising right now.)

And again, that’s if hypothetical intelligent aliens exist in our immediate galactic neighborhood. If there’s an intelligent civilization that exists, say, 4,000 light years away — which is still not very far in galactic terms — the soonest we could hear from them is about 8,000 years from now. (Four thousand for them to detect our technosignatures, four thousand for their message to reach us.)

The point is, space is big. Ridiculously, incomprehensibly, stupidly vast. More than 99.995 percent of the galaxy cannot be aware of our existence yet, let alone travel here, because of the reasons explained above.

The distances between stars are so great that we cannot comprehend them as they are, because nothing in human experience compares. We can only understand them in the abstract. As terrestrial animals with short lives, we are simply not equipped to live or think on galactic timescales.

The sun’s location within the Milky Way galaxy. Not to scale.

To put this in context another way, our closest stellar neighbor, a volatile triple star system, is 4.3 light years away. Yet even with the most advanced propulsion systems currently available to us, it would take us more than 70,000 years to get there!

If we manage to crack fusion and humanity’s most brilliant engineers are able to fit a starship with a compact fusion reactor, the travel time to the nearest star becomes “only” about 7,000 years.

Understanding just how big space is, and how long it takes to travel between stars, goes a long way to explaining why we’re wasting our time and resources with a fruitless search for alleged alien craft in our skies.

Light moves at 186,282 miles per second. Credit: Ehsan Ahmadnejad/Pexels

So where does that leave us?

I believe that one day we will learn we’re not alone. By we, I mean our species. I really hope it happens in my lifetime, but for all the reasons explained above, that’s wishfull thinking. The universe doesn’t care what we want, and it certainly doesn’t change the geometry of space-time to accommodate the wishes of dreamers on Earth.

Alien: Friend or foe?

I don’t think we’ll have to worry about belligerence. If a civilization is capable of sending ships to us, there’s literally nothing in our inventory of meager, planet-based resources that could interest a species that advanced. They wouldn’t want to eat us, because our biology would not be compatible. The amount of energy our entire civilization can muster would be laughable to an interstellar species.

And as the physicist Michio Kaku has argued, there’s a very strong argument to be made that if a species is advanced enough that interstellar travel is relatively trivial, it would have long ago shed any tendencies toward tribalism, sectarian violence or inventing gods of the gaps. You simply cannot reach that stage of advancement if you’re wasting resources and your most brilliant minds on war and petty divisions. (Kaku knows that better than anyone. His mentor was Edward Teller of Manhattan Project fame.)

The more significant danger, as Kaku likes to say, is that we may be beneath their notice and we’ll get “paved over.” A civilization capable of building cosmic megastructures, for example, wouldn’t consult us any more than we’d consult ants before laying a six lane super highway over their ant hill.

Still, there’s always a chance we’ll encounter something like MorningLightMountain, the nightmare alien intelligence from Peter F. Hamilton’s incomparable novel Pandora’s Star. The problem with MorningLightMountain wasn’t that diplomacy failed. There was no disagreement over resources or territory. Humans didn’t threaten it.

Rather, the alien’s psychology was so different from ours that it could not understand the concept of allowing other life to exist in the galaxy. No amount of discussion or attempts to persuade it would have made a difference, so immediately upon learning of our existence it launched a genocidal war that forms the bulk of Pandora’s Star and its sequel, Judas Unchained, two of the most beloved books in the modern science fiction canon.

Still, I’d like to think there is a galactic fraternity out there, an informal alliance of intelligent species united by curiosity and the effort to understand our universe. Whatever’s out there is likely to take forms we can never imagine and think in ways that never occurred to us.

If one day we do make first contact, I hope the best of humanity will be our representatives. And on that day, I hope humanity will be awestruck by the wonder of the universe, realize that slaughtering each other over land or beliefs is insane, and finally become united as a species.

Or even better, finally united as the children of Earth. After all, Buddy has made it abundantly clear that if I come into possession of a starship, he gets the most comfortable seat on board and gets to drive. The latter ain’t happening, but as for the former, I’d be thrilled to explore the cosmos with my little pal.

What’s Good About Having A Pet? Everything!

Animals are a real source of joy in this world, and few things are better than cozying up on a couch with a book and a purring cat in your lap.

Daily writing prompt
What is good about having a pet?

For more than two weeks after adopting him, I still didn’t have a name for my cat.

I imagined something badass, something funny, something better than all those boring pet names. But the playful, energetic, bold little kitten in front of me was no Brasidas (my favorite Spartan), Mo (my favorite pitcher) or Timothy Cavendish. (My favorite character from David Mitchell’s Cloud Atlas.)

So I kept calling him buddy while I waited for something to come to me, and then it became obvious: He is Buddy.

Original? Nah. But it describes him perfectly, and to me that’s the best part about adopting him, my first-ever pet.

We’re pals. Amigos. Chums. Accomplices. Buddies.

Buddy as he exists in his mind!

I don’t consider myself his “dad” even though I have parental, protective feelings for him. He’s my buddy who wants to be involved in everything I do, whether it’s helping me greet trick-or-treaters at the door like he did last night, batting a paw at my guitar strings to add his special touch to my recording takes, or just hanging out while I’m reading.

I knew it intuitively, but the best advice I ever got was to always remember your little friend, be it a cat or dog, has his or her own feelings.

There’s a lot of confusion around the word sentience and people often confuse it with the concept of sapience, but there is no doubt about it: mammals like cats and dogs, avian species like corvids (ravens, jays, crows and magpies), and even cephalopods like octopus are sentient.

They think. They feel. They experience emotions like joy, sadness, excitement, anxiety, love, loneliness and more, just as intensely as we do. They may not be able to articulate those feelings in words, but they’re real.

More than half a century’s worth of science has confirmed that fact at every step, and we continue to learn more about animal cognition with every advance in technology that allows us to peer deeper into their minds.

Awww, he tolerates me!

When you treat your pet with respect and keep their feelings in mind, you’ll have a friend for life.

A loyal friend whose love comes without condition.

A friend who won’t lie to you…except maybe when it comes to food. After all, Bud could win an Oscar for his role as a starving cat, even though a single glance at him confirms he’s never missed a meal.

If you’re where I was years ago and considering bringing a pet into your life, ask yourself if you’re ready for a commitment that could last two decades, if you’re ready and motivated to give an animal not just a forever home, but the best life the little one can live.

Remember that kittens and puppies grow up fast, and think about whether you’d rather have a whirlwind of energy who will wreck your sleeping habits for months, or an adult furball who is much more chill. Remember that you will have to do things you don’t like, whether it’s scooping a litter box or bagging poop on a walk. There will be expenses, scares, the occasional puked-on rug.

But the joy you’ll get, and the friendship you’ll have, will make it all worth it.

And if you’re sure, find yourself a buddy at your local shelter. Your life will be better for it.

P.S. If you’re a fool like me, you can also have fun imagining your cat or dog in absurd scenarios based on their personalities.