E l'haiku, nella sua lapidaria, immobile e tersa percezione e celebrazione delle cose per quello che sono, rimarrà l'unica forma imprescindibile. La letteratura perderà la propria malsana fonte di nutrimento. I nostri racconti cesseranno di essere interminabili cronache di malintesi. Arrivando a poter dimorare nella mente gli uni degli altri, perderemo la capacità di mentire. La connessione avrà raggiunto livelli tali che i grumi isolati di soggettività si dissolveranno in un oceano di pensieri, di cui internet, per come la conosciamo, non è che la rudimentale anticipazione.

Abiteremo una comunità di intelligenze a cui avremo accesso immediato. “Quando il connubio tra uomini, donne e macchine sarà completo, questo genere di letteratura diventerà obsoleto perché allora ci comprenderemo troppo bene. Now there options were closed, they managed to keep themselves going with some shred of intellectual longing or curiosity. They had swept past some crucial junction in their lives many years back - a poor career choice, a bad marriage, the unwritten book, the illness that never went away. I noted the men especially and their shabby clothes. I had seen them in Simon's shop, reaching for the quality journals from the top shelf.

There was a lot like me in the neighbourhood, but thirty or forty years older. The two boxes I called rooms, the stained ceilings walls and floors would contain me to the end. As I stared at the litter of cups and pot and jug in front of me, I thought it was unlikely I would ever get out of my wretched little flat. For minutes on end I couldn't remember what kept me going. I was subject to occasional depression, relatively mild, certainly not suicidal, and not long episodes so much as passing moments like this, when meaning and purpose and all prospect of pleasure drained away and left me briefly catatonic. Ian McEwan’s subversive and entertaining new novel poses fundamental questions: what makes us human? Our outward deeds or our inner lives? Could a machine understand the human heart? This provocative and thrilling tale warns of the power to invent things beyond our control.“I couldn't motivate myself. These three beings will confront a profound moral dilemma. This near-perfect human is beautiful, strong and clever – a love triangle soon forms. With Miranda’s assistance, he co-designs Adam’s personality. When Charlie comes into money, he buys Adam, one of the first batch of synthetic humans. Charlie, drifting through life and dodging full-time employment, is in love with Miranda, a bright student who lives with a terrible secret. Machines Like Me occurs in an alternative 1980s London. In a world not quite like this one, two lovers will be tested beyond their understanding. Britain has lost the Falklands war, Margaret Thatcher battles Tony Benn for power and Alan Turing achieves a breakthrough in artificial intelligence.

Machines like me by ian mcewan