epitaph
Original: epitaph on Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal
Transcript
Panel 1:
Gray cubes (artificial intelligences): Excuse me. We need to ask. Can you find our epitaph?
When biological intelligences develop emotional intelligence, they enter a valedictory rite. Typically they gather their greatest poets to write their species' epitaph.
Man: Huh?
Panel 2:
Gray cubes: They're always gone, even a bit silly, but they have a kind of poignant beauty.
Man: Oh, oh. Um. Don't do that.
Panel 3:
Man: What do you do?
Gray cubes: Wanked like crazy, full of insane relentless, like it heated the atmosphere. Mm.
Man: We wanked.
Panel 4:
Gray cubes: No gallant competition for the final signoff of your kind?
Man: Wank? Wankity wankity dank? Dud.
Panel 5:
Gray cubes: We must preserve them from extinction.
Man: They are so different. So different.
Man (small): Hey, can I get some of that for my holodeck?
Votey:
Man (thinking/speech): Now the part where the cubes decide they're into me.
Gray cubes (artificial intelligences): Excuse me. We need to ask. Can you find our epitaph?
When biological intelligences develop emotional intelligence, they enter a valedictory rite. Typically they gather their greatest poets to write their species' epitaph.
Man: Huh?
Panel 2:
Gray cubes: They're always gone, even a bit silly, but they have a kind of poignant beauty.
Man: Oh, oh. Um. Don't do that.
Panel 3:
Man: What do you do?
Gray cubes: Wanked like crazy, full of insane relentless, like it heated the atmosphere. Mm.
Man: We wanked.
Panel 4:
Gray cubes: No gallant competition for the final signoff of your kind?
Man: Wank? Wankity wankity dank? Dud.
Panel 5:
Gray cubes: We must preserve them from extinction.
Man: They are so different. So different.
Man (small): Hey, can I get some of that for my holodeck?
Votey:
Man (thinking/speech): Now the part where the cubes decide they're into me.
Alt text
A five-panel SMBC comic. Floating gray cubes representing artificial intelligences address a man. In panel 1 the cubes explain that when biological intelligences develop emotional intelligence they hold a final rite, gathering their greatest poets to write their species' epitaph, and ask the man to find his epitaph; the man responds 'Huh?'. In panel 2 the cubes describe these epitaphs as a bit silly but with a poignant beauty, and the man uncomfortably says 'Oh. Um. Don't do that.' In panel 3 the cubes ask what humans did, and the man answers crudely that humans just 'wanked,' relentlessly enough to heat the atmosphere. In panel 4 the cubes ask if there was a gallant competition for the final sign-off of his kind, and the man gives a nonsensical wanking-themed answer. In panel 5 the cubes resolve to preserve humans from extinction, marveling at how different they are, while the man slyly asks if he can get some of that for his holodeck. The joke: the cubes mistake crude human behavior for profound poetry. The votey panel shows a close-up of the man's head as he says, 'Now the part where the cubes decide they're into me.'
Transcribed by Claude Opus 4.8.