for the humans who might play computers in the upcoming American Crossword Puzzle Tournament
We are mince-meat. The day is past where humans reign supreme. The Doctor is in and he will fill the page without logic; without reason. We all play the game: reading the prompts, counting the letters, thinking of the correlations and the permutations.
Some play the game differently. We recognize patterns. (and I don’t mean window curtains or tabletops). We have knowledge and experience in lieu of calculations and statistics though, a shift in gears can produce a high-speed roadway for the human mind. We don’t need to be charged, unlike our opponents.
We get the joke; it’s funny.
The machines are beating us with our own language – with their fancy programs and their implanted intelligence. Where they are taking us? Gone are the days of pencil and pen, (forget about fingers and digits). They are adaptable, and we, we are creatures of habit. They are resilient while we age poorly. They spot matches *like that* and our synapses just spaz. They say The Good Doctor will “kill the field,” as in level out the playing field, as in KILL THE HUMANS!
What Will Would Shortz Do? (WWWSD?)
Give up and die? We must go forth into that dark night and carry our heads high and walk even if we are weary, and think, even if we are parched and thin. We must be a-w-a-r-e in these electric times…
The hurdle is in the extension of cord versus cord. Spine verses Wire. We can build the strength of body and brain. All they’ve got is little men with little fingers furiously typing code encrypted with artificial humor. We’ve got the life inside us.
© Umansky 2012
blog of poet, leah umansky 