I n my long life, I have had to get my head around massive technological changes. When I was young, I relied on my knowledge of the times tables, and counting on my fingers, to add up. It took me weeks to master the revolutionary Amstrad word processor.
The only phone was in the hall, calls strictly rationed by my father. Over the years, I have braved the exasperation of my grandchildren, and now Google, Zoom and unmute with the best of them. But the latest incomprehensible technical revolution has me flummoxed.
I seriously fear I will not have mastered artificial intelligence before passing on to a world where, hopefully, the most I will have to cope with are some old-fashioned golden gates, and there will be a nice angel to explain how they work. I understand Tom Hanks appears in a new film in which, using AI, he plays himself as a boy and young man. They call it de-ageing .
I’m not sure if his body is included in this miracle. If they de-aged just my face and it was on top of my wizen, limping body, the effect would be macabre. The implications for my profession of this technology are complicated.
One trivial advantage occurs to me. It must be so difficult for a beautiful woman or handsome man to see those looks deteriorate, and indeed for some, whose careers have been largely based on their glamour, the loss affects work opportunities. Now, maybe in place of the usually ineffective, sometimes tragic results of cosmetic surgery, hair dye and thick makeup, they can be de-.
