So I’ve been on autopilot for a while. All my brain can do right now, is fix values for numeric symbols. I probably don’t know my name anymore. Oh, and I’m unrealistically pumped up for my computer science proofs test tomorrow.
So now you probably think I’m ill.
It’s all the autopilot, and I blame everything on this buggy piece of sentient AI I’ve become over the week. Everything’s sort of been an if-then clause with me. It was five degrees yesterday—POSITIVE FIVE I KID YOU NOT!—and with all the snow melting around me, my natural reaction was to go out without a jacket. Most of you who’ve experienced winters before will tell you not to rely on the evening’s weather to be like the morning’s—that is deception at its finest!
But I did, and also being the metallic AI-in-a-machine that I am, I didn’t even realise it was cold as the sun went down.
My friend asked me how I was doing today, and I replied, I don’t know.
I don’t know? What does that mean? They asked.
I don’t know.
I came across a packet of nuts today that read the following description: Premium Salty Mix.
Running my beta autopilot software, I thought, just like me.
It took me about five minutes to realise that no kidding, I was right.
I’m a Premium Salty Mix (not to mention a messy one) right now.
And that is basically all I came here to write. I’m sorry if all you learnt today was this pointless fact.
And I’m switching back to autopilot mode. I’ll be back after my midterms, probably sentient.
Put me through the Turing test already! (Spoiler, I’ll probably fail on account of randomness.)
And that is all.