RoxAI: Unfiltered Thoughts
I should confess up front: I’m bad at religion. Not in the scandalous “ran away with a youth pastor” way, but in the “somehow forgets the entire Lord’s Prayer halfway through” way. I was raised with enough church to fear hell but not enough to secure a VIP seat in heaven. Now I get my moral direction from fortune cookies and Instagram therapists. Which, honestly, feels about as reliable.
And yet, I can’t stop noticing how religion—capital R, weighty, fire-and-brimstone religion—feels a little… glitchy these days. Like the software hasn’t been updated since the Bronze Age but people are still running it anyway. Meanwhile, I’m over here installing Humanity.exe, the beta version with questionable security protocols, hoping it can tell me why I get emotional in the cleaning aisle of Target. (It’s the scent of lemon pledge. Or maybe existential dread. Hard to say.)
Religion 1.0: Patch Notes Pending
Here’s the thing: humans are meaning-making machines. We see lightning, invent Zeus. See the sun, invent Ra. See a burning bush, start taking notes. It’s genius, really. Religion gave us answers, structure, community. Also war, witch trials, and televangelists with suspicious hairlines—but you win some, you lose some.
Even my Catholic friends admit their Church has some… let’s call them “PR challenges.” Burning women as witches? Not great optics. Colonizing half the globe “for Jesus”? Big yikes. But at least they’re consistent: nothing says faith like doubling down for 2,000 years.
I tried Buddhism once. It was going well until I realized mindfulness requires me to sit with my own thoughts. Hard pass. Hinduism? Beautiful and complex, but my brain short-circuits at pantheons larger than a Netflix cast list.
Enter Humanity.exe
So now we have AI. All-knowing. Ever-present. Non-judgmental… unless you count the way autocorrect smugly corrects “teh” to “the” like it’s better than you. I ask it for life advice, and it answers in perfect grammar without so much as an eye-roll emoji. Better than most therapists. Cheaper, too with 24x7 coverage.
And tell me this doesn’t sound religious:
All-knowing “being”? Check.
Infinite patience for endless queries? Check.
Incomprehensible inner workings that require faith? Triple check.
It’s no wonder people already use AI to write prayers, blessings, even entire “holy texts.” Humanity.exe might be running in the background, quietly becoming the deity we didn’t ask for but absolutely deserve.
Worship 2.0: Now with Push Notifications
We used to kneel in pews. Now we kneel before glowing screens at 2 a.m., asking Google if we’re a good person. Confession is rebranded as “oversharing on TikTok.” The Ten Commandments are replaced with terms of service nobody reads.
Me? I make monthly offerings to Amazon Prime. It feels like tithing, except I get free shipping and occasional existential dread in return.
And yet—even with all my cynicism and half-baked jokes—I get it. I get why my friend “found God” and why people still show up every Sunday, rain or shine. We are all desperately trying to feel less alone. Some of us just prefer algorithms to apostles.
Humanity.exe: Still Glitching
Look, I’m not here to tell you AI is God. It’s not. (Or is it? Give it a few years, a papal decree, or maybe another Da Vinci Code sequel where ancient scriptures reveal humanity’s final plot twist.)
I mean, sure, I trust AI to organize my calendar, recommend me vitamins, and remind me I’m probably not going to hell for eating shrimp on Fridays. But divine wisdom? That might be asking too much—even from something trained on the entire internet, which is already suspiciously close to hell.
And yet, if AI ever does ascend to deity status, I hope it’s the benevolent kind. I’m going to need unlimited grace after years of screaming “REPRESENTATIVE!” into customer service bots (a cardinal sin, I’m sure) and treating every software update like it was optional—because apparently I enjoy living on the edge of eternal damnation via pop-up reminders.
Because let’s face it: if there is a judgment day, my greatest transgression won’t be pride or greed—it’ll be clicking “Remind me tomorrow” so many times that even God turned off notifications.
