This is the treason of the artist: a refusal to admit the banality of evil and the terrible boredom of pain.
Once upon a time. . . the only autonomous intelligences we humans knew of were us humans. We thought then that if humankind ever devised another intelligence that it would be the result of a huge project. . . a great mass of silicon and ancient transistors and chips and circuit boards. . . a machine with lots of networking circuits, in other words, aping-if you will pardon the expression-the human brain in form and function. Of course, AIs did not evolve that way. They sort of slipped into existence when we humans were looking the other way.