7.4: The AI-enabled reporter

The following day, rather a disreputable looking stranger in a printer’s hat arrives and orders a gin and French. “You Bill, from the paper?” he asks. 

“Yes.” Bill replies. 

“The editor sent me.” 

“Oh, I suggested he sent the entertainment correspondent.” 

“They let him go. I’m one of the new AI-enabled reporters.” 

“Neh! What’s that?” asks the Barman, sceptically. 

“Oh: I am the future. Much more efficient. I use Google and ChatGPT to get my stories. And write them, too. Quicker. More modern. And cheaper.” 

At this point, they hear the Minkey, in the scullery, starting to sing one of his dismal songs (‘Minkey in a hovel’, it transpires), probably cradling his broken ghetto blaster.

“There was a minkey

Lived in a hovel,

Spent his days, like Sir Bernard Lovell.

His hovel had no roof, to block out the stars.

You could see them all, including Mars.

When it rained, things got quite adverse

When it snowed, they were even worse...”

“Very good!” says the reporter. 

“I’m sure he’d be pleased to be interviewed. He’s just through that door in the scullery.” 

“Oh, there’s no need for that. I’ll Google all I need, and run it past Chat GPT, when I get back to the paper. Other fish to fry!” And with that, plonking his glass heavily onto the table, he leaves.