The situation for universities is Graham
Satire brings me so close to the truth that you can practically touch him
I was trying to tell my sister what was happening, the situation for universities—with the executive absurdities that are all too real—when Graham appeared. Popped right out of a blip in my speech.
Speech that was made into text by the Amelia Bedelia-like robot named Voice Control, who helps me transcribe. Like any translator, he's not without agency or flaws. Sometimes, he modifies what I say. Blip, blop, bloop! The little warlock.
I never thought I’d be the sort of person who gets help with banal cognitive tasks. I clean my own house; I do my own accounting. But it turns out I'm also vain and concerned with appearances and I can appear to do more, faster with Voice Control, so here we are.
I was trying to tell my sister about the situation for universities and brag about my latest exercise kick “me on my run,” I said, then it happened:
“FYI, the situation for universities is Graham.”
I mean, what?
Then, I remembered that it’s possible to trick robots into revealing their secrets. The consequence of this glitch in Voice Control was illuminating. Graham is the problem I was trying to name!
Who is Graham? That is the puzzle. Now, I've thought about disparaging situations with universities before. A year ago, I wrote an imaginary novel about academic precarity. Graham wasn't involved. It was relatable and funny.
But this year, due to circumstances I gestured to already, the story I'm writing is different. I suspect Graham is like a Grim Reaper, cloaked in code, demanding we write eulogies. Insisting we say, ‘change is underway.’ The passive voice. Even when the petitions are circulating, Graham will tell me to acknowledge, ‘this time is different.’
What does Graham look like? In my mind’s eye, I imagine Graham is an entrepreneur, which is a white fraternity guy, which is a stock photo model, a young George Clooney or Chris Hemsworth lookalike. Graham is on his phone. Graham is in mine.
To be real, Graham is actually, probably, just the male version of me, my synthetic AI surrogate. I mean, he was made from my botched words, right? A predictable if unfortunate twist to the word becoming flesh, nearly. I don't want to give that much power to the warlock but it's happening.
This is terrifying because I do not want the situation for universities, for any of this, to be a synthetic version of me. I stand firmly against nonconsensual deep fakes.
But that’s the truth of it. This time isn’t different. I’m different. I am Graham. You might be, too. Now, I am not afraid of witchcraft nor radical transformation, but it's difficult when the scope and terms of change are out of my control. I didn't ask to be Graham; he appeared out of my hubris and turned out to be a creep. And that's the situation.
It will take some real magical, radical believing to transform out of this, to reduce the clutch of vanity, convenience, and ignorance. To heal from the creep. It can and will be done. Your guess is as good as mine on what we will look like next.
On the bright side, I'm a pretty good guesser. I'm considering getting certified. More on that later.
Thank you for reading The Gift.
Yours,
Monika
The Gift