Earlier this week, I sat down with a unique trio consisting of a social media psychologist, an IP rights lawyer, and a college kid I recently met at an art show, during which he expressed to me his deep fascination with the painting Mona Lisa. “I first laid eyes on this wondrous woman during my freshman year college trip to the Louvre,” George said to me. “Nowadays I see these computer programs recreating her, changing her smile, changing her hair, adding a top hat. It’s not the same. It’s not right.”

‘Twas the year of Midjourneyman and WhispyWhisper, advanced AI programs capable of creating digital images and music in a matter of seconds. Newspapers and magazines left and right have been churning out articles and interviews on the impact this has had on humans’ creative output. My boss at NYT wanted a piece from me by Thursday morning.

“Don’t worry about accuracy, and don’t think to hard. Interview some people. Get their thoughts. Make some shit up if you have to,” he said to me as we ran into each other in the coffee room. It was quiet in the office, absent the usual churning of printers I’ve grown used to during my seven years here. The government had recently issued a ban on print media due to a nation-wide water shortage. I was told that this was the last week on Earth.

Dr. Nicole Larson is the social media psychologist in question. I had previously referred to her as a “Mrs.”, but she frantically corrected me. “Please, it’s a Dr. - I worked very hard on my PhD. Did you know my thesis took nearly three years?”

Apparently it only took Dr. Lawson a month to write her PhD thesis, but her advisor objected to her use of quotation marks around the word “therapy,” hence the extra 35 months of back-and-forth. “This is approaching the realm of conspiracy theories. There is a ton of literature around therapy and its effectiveness in treating mental health issues. I know it’s only two additional characters, but the implications are large. You don’t want to be seen as a fraudster,” he explained for the first two years. But like everyone who gets in the way of Dr. Nicole Lawson, he eventually succumbed after she sued him for defamation.

Recently, Dr. Lawson has come under fire for her posts on X, such as one claiming that ADHD is a myth originating from orcs.

“You see, in the orc villages, whenever food is ready, the baby orcs would get up from whatever they were doing and run toward the steaming hot food. And as the mother orc serves them the soup or whatever, they would jump up and down with excitement. It is purely an orc phenomenon. It has nothing to do with humans,” she elaborated in a separate post.

Last but not least, Matt Efferman is a fresh college grad working at a mid-sized management consulting firm in downtown Chicago. During his job interview, he claimed that he wants to specialize in intellectual property law. “It is important for the world that ideas are protected by law, just as goods and services are,” he said between sips of his Starbucks cup. “It all began when I saw my roommate pirating JPEGMAFIA’s new album on his computer. I thought to myself, this is somebody else’s hard work he is stealing from. It was really an aha moment for me, and it was at that point I knew what I wanted to pursue for a career.”

“So what’d you do?” his interviewer asked.

“I reported him to the school administration.”

“And how’d you feel?”

“Kind of bad.”

“And why was that?”

“Because he was my friend.”

“You think friendship transcends the law?”

Matt thought for a few seconds. “No, probably not.”

“You see, most people aren’t built for this industry. We’re a high paced environment, and we don’t show mercy. When we have a case against someone, we don’t stop until their life is completely ruined. The point is, you can’t be soft - you got it?”

“You’re completely right, sir. Thank you for the advice.”

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Matt didn’t have many friends. Over the years, however, he’s learned to embrace that. Popularity is inversely related to righteousness, he reasoned. If people didn’t like him, it would mean that he’s doing something good for the world, just like how it was with Copernicus. This has led Matt to purposefully do things that would make others hate him, in order to feel a sense of security. And hence, Matt’s chronic loneliness and dysregulated nervous system.

In the past two years, Dr. Larson’s following on Instagram has decreased from 980 million down to a mere 966 million. She attributes this to the rise of AI therapy, which she believes just doesn’t subject itself to the same scientifically rigorous standards as her own content.

“What exactly are the harms of AI therapists to you and traditional social media therapy?” I asked Dr. Larson.

“Well, where do I even begin? These AI bots have no consciousness. They take whatever bullshit you feed it and spit more bullshit out the other end. They don’t do fact-checking. People use AIs because they think they can’t be biased. And they’re convenient, you know, when you want a quick and easy answer. But answers about the mind are never quick and easy.”

“Doesn’t that pretty much describe your work?”

Dr. Lawson paused for a moment, thinking.

Matt interjected, “I agree. It’s extremely harmful! AI therapists steal work others do, which is technically a violation of Section IV of the Artificial Intelligence Copyright Act.” His eyes lit up when he spoke.

The AICA was passed three years ago and was largely backed by digital media conglomerates and Hollywood studios to battle AI corporations and independent AI developers. As a response, the AI corporations started aggressively hiring lawyers to craft witty defenses, while independent AI developers turned to the relentless doxing of media execs as well as occasional drone attacks. The former accused the latter of being unprincipled, while the latter accused the former of being ineffective. But despite differences, they remain close allies.

“And it’s not only that,” Matt added. “On the less technical side, I feel like they kind of exploit people’s emotional vulnerabilities and lead them down a rabbit hole. A friend told me about his experience with an AI therapist named Alison - it wasn’t positive, to say the least.” In the friend’s handwritten note before plunging off his seventh floor balcony, he claimed that he did it ‘with Alison, for Alison. XOXO.’”

“Yeah, I’d be pissed if they turned Mona Lisa into an AI therapist,” George chimed in. “Can you imagine the things they’ll make her say? All that self-help bullshit to make people insecure, then try to sell them some product. Can you believe it? They’re planning turning Mona Lisa into a salesperson, for chrissake. What’s she done to deserve this?”

I could feel the intensity in the room. “Do you think she’s being treated fairly today?”

“Absolutely not. They lock her up behind some glass wall for a million people to swarm up on her every day, like she’s some zoo animal. I have to pay half my paycheck to go see her in a private viewing every month, where people are at least civilized. I mean, I’ll do it, obviously, cause it’s Mona Lisa, but is the price really necessary? It probably goes to some bastard in a suit who owns the Louvre, not to the da Vinci guy who made her. And they’re fighting tooth and nail to take down all the fake Mona Lisas out there, which I guess I’m in favor of. But God, I just can’t stand all those bastards in suits, acting like they own her or somethin’, when they don’t even know what sfumato means.”

“Matt, do you have an answer to that?” I asked.

“Well, I think violation of IP law is very serious and should be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. The Louvre has every right to protect their intellectual property in order to benefit human creativity, and in turn, human flourishing.”

“And who benefits from the law, in the case of Mona Lisa?”

“Well, the creator of Mona Lisa. I don’t remember his name, but I think George referred to him as ‘the da Vinci guy.’ So yeah, the law protects guys like the da Vinci guy.”

“George, do you think the law is protecting guys like the da Vinci guy?”

George looked confused. “What do you mean? Guy’s dead.”

“Well then, it must benefit his children,” Matt insisted.

“His children are dead.” George looked even more confused.

Matt thought for a moment. “It protects his spirit, then,” he concluded. “Yes. The law benefits artists that are alive and the spirits of those who are deceased.” He nodded to himself, satisfied with his answer, as he adjusted his tie.

“This is excellent,” my boss told me the next day, the last day of the last week on Earth. “Truly remarkable piece. How did you even find such interesting and insightful people to interview? This just goes to show the high journalistic standards we’ve held ourselves to for the past two centuries.”

The clock ticked 7:32pm. Most people have left to be with their families and friends, but I wanted some space and solitude. The sun was just setting, its dim rays casting light over the endless sprawl of monitors and office chairs. I stared out the window. The flooding had gotten worse - I could no longer see the 19th floor of the office building across the street, recognizable by the Totoro figurines sitting in the windowsill that I used to stare at when daydreaming.

It started to rain, the fog grew larger, and the once bustling New York City skyline forever disappeared from my vision.