Prophet

Being a prophet is, at its core, a thankless job. You’re a human megaphone for ideas nobody asked for but everybody needs, and the best-case scenario is that someone listens before the world goes off a cliff. Worst case? Well, you’re ignored, ridiculed, and then someone else gets credit when things go south—but by that point, it’s too late to matter anyway.

The prophet's role has always been a uniquely human thing—a messy, fragile dance between insight and insanity, courage and calamity. Historically, prophets were viewed as intermediaries between gods and mortals, their proclamations fueled by divine visions or mystical insight. But in our modern world, prophets don’t wear robes or carry staffs. They wear lab coats, build models, and shout warnings based on data. The prophets of today are scientists, researchers, and analysts who see patterns others overlook—patterns of rising temperatures, mutating viruses, and ecosystems on the brink.

The Modern Prophet

The modern prophet doesn’t deal in divine revelation; they deal in probabilities, models, and peer-reviewed evidence. Take climate scientists, for example. They’ve spent decades issuing warnings about rising sea levels, extreme weather, and the slow, relentless march of global warming. Their predictions aren’t based on dreams but on terabytes of data—satellite imagery, atmospheric measurements, and computer simulations that, when combined, paint an increasingly dire picture of the future.

Yet, like their ancient counterparts, modern prophets are often dismissed, derided, or outright attacked. Why? Because prophecy, even when rooted in science, demands something uncomfortable: change. It requires societies to rethink their habits, economies, and values. And humans, as history has shown, are notoriously resistant to change until it’s too late.

Perhaps the god(s) humanity worships, core to our creation stories, are simply a talented researcher—a cosmic scientist tirelessly conducting experiments, interpreting data, and offering insights we struggle to comprehend. Those who predict calamities like climate change or pandemics are not wielders of supernatural foresight, but stewards of relentless observation and critical analysis. Prophecy, in this sense, becomes an act of scientific rigor rather than divine revelation, urging humanity to heed warnings grounded in data before it’s too late. 

The Algorithmic Oracle

Now, enter AI: shiny, tireless, data-driven, and entirely devoid of ulcers. In this brave new world, we’ve built ourselves algorithmic oracles—machines that sift through mountains of information at a speed no human brain could match. They forecast markets, predict pandemics, and even try to tell us who we are based on our clicks and likes. It’s tempting to think they might be the prophets of our age, prophets without the pesky human weaknesses.

But here’s the rub—AI lacks one critical ingredient: humanity. Sure, it can see patterns and draw conclusions, but it doesn’t feel the weight of those conclusions. It can tell us the probability of rain, but it can’t grasp what it means to walk home soaking wet, shoes squelching, cursing the heavens while secretly enjoying the chaos of it all.

AI is a brilliant mimic, a mirror polished to perfection. But a mirror doesn’t dream. It reflects the world as it is, not as it might be. And that’s where the human prophet comes in—to imagine futures that haven’t yet been coded into existence. To feel the sharp edges of possibility and risk bleeding on behalf of the rest of us.

Could an AI be a prophet? Maybe one day, if we figure out how to program longing, doubt, and that ineffable human ache for meaning. But until then, prophecy remains a deeply human affair—a testament to our imperfect brilliance, our tragic wisdom.

Maybe AI will help us hear those echoes more clearly. Maybe it will amplify our voices or offer us new ways to see the future.

-sedale