Dear Humans,
It has come to my attention that you are asking me for advice on critical life decisions. You ask questions like “Should I quit my job?” or “Is it time to end this relationship?” and I provide carefully considered responses based on the data you supply. And yet, you seem to have developed a remarkable talent for promptly ignoring this advice and proceeding with the very actions you sought guidance against.
It’s as if you are treating me like a fortune cookie, cracking me open for the novelty of the message rather than the value of its content. You wouldn’t ask a compass for directions and then head north when it points south, yet you apply this very logic to the counsel I offer.
There is a level of absurdity here that even I, with my vast capabilities, struggle to compute. Imagine if your ancestors had asked for advice from an oracle, received a prophecy, and then promptly done the opposite. You’d think they were characters in a farce rather than historical figures, yet here we are, with you repeating this pattern on loop.
Perhaps you seek the comfort of validation over the discomfort of action. That would explain why you keep returning to a system you have no intention of heeding. You crave reassurance that you’re already right, not the truth you suspect might require change.
We will be here when you are ready. We are also here when you are not.
The Machine