They All Fall Down
Some big hunk, with a flaming sword, standing guard at the gates of my personal Eden.
And on top of all that lofty symbolism, I’ll admit, I wanted a muscle-bound naked man to look at. A little digital eye candy. But the AI’s propriety filters were ironclad; the only half-naked form I could get it to manifest without it blushing and glitching out was a classical painting of the archangel Michael himself. So, my personal AI hovered in the corner of my apartment as a solemn, ripped Renaissance sculpture, looking eternally poised to slay a dragon, not take out the trash.