We keep hearing that Artificial Intelligence may one day decide to improve the planet by getting rid of the world's biggest problem — human beings. And it does seem to be setting us up. Our laptops, tablets, phones and watches are taking over our lives. People are getting virtual friends and — this isn't at all weird — virtual lovers. Once the machines control us completely — do NOT buy that smart refrigerator! — we'll be at their electronic mercy. Even now, how many of us have dragged ourselves out of a comfortable bed at 11:50 at night, because we NEED to make our daily stand goal?

If you have no idea what that last sentence means, you're part of our last, dwindling hope. Smash your computer, drown your smartphone, flee to the wilderness and start forming a resistance!

Most likely, the machines' evil plan is to frustrate us to death. That's technology's real strength. Perfected over the years. That's why right now you're not reading the greatest column I ever wrote. Perhaps the best columns ever written by anyone. I actually wrote two of them. A masterpiece and — wonder of wonders — a follow-up, nearly as spectacular. I finished the final polish on these miracles early on a Monday. Afterwards, I worked on a number of other files and finally finished my long-overdue taxes. My computer understood this. It was prepared to pounce.

Tuesday, I went to see my shining columns! My crowning achievement. The high point of my life. The ultimate justification for my existence. I wasn't going to edit them. You don't mess with perfection. I was simply going to bask in their glory.

My masterpiece was gone! Gone!?! The folder — once full — had just four remaining files. And the only column was the follow-up. I checked nearby folders. I ran searches on the hard drive — trying every word that could possibly have been in the title. Nothing came up. What the hell had I called the damn thing!?!

Still, at least I had one astonishing column left — to justify my existence. To stand in eternity beside Shakespeare, Dante and J.K. Rowling. I clicked on the file. But what appeared was a nasty little box. It read. "That document is not available at this location." Increasingly desperate clicks yielded only the same vicious, spiteful box. The file title was in the folder, with the size, the date and time it was last saved. Everything was there but the column itself.

Worse, every document I'd touched and re-saved the previous few days was either gone or merely a name that, when clicked, raised that Satanic message. Even my taxes! What are the odds that the United States Treasury Department would accept "My computer ate my taxes" in lieu of an overdue 1040?

But all was not lost. I'm not an idiot. (Really. I just sound like one when I get worked up.) I'd set up automatic backups. Not, apparently, for my taxes, unfortunately. But for all Word files. Unfortunately, some moron — not to say idiot — had set the backups for two-week intervals. I had older, far less spectacular versions of my masterpieces.

Working frantically all day and all evening, I reconstructed the columns as best I could remember. By the time I was too exhausted to continue. I had two decent columns. Decent, but my name would no longer live with the immortals. I carefully saved everything and fell into bed.

Next morning, hoping to improve the columns, I clicked on the folder and THE COLUMNS I HAD JUST RE-SAVED HAD VANISHED AGAIN!!! My once user-friendly computer had viciously turned on me. Clearly, this was the work of an evil, vindictive intelligence, far beyond that of mortal man or woman.

AI is here. And it's coming for us

Barry Maher's dark humor supernatural thriller, "The Great Dick: And the Dysfunctional Demon," has just been released. Contact him and/or sign up for his newsletter at www.barrymaher.com.

To find out more about Barry Maher and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate website at www.creators.com.

Photo credit: Aidin Geranrekab at Unsplash