From the diary of Rishi Sunak, Britain’s most AI-compatible prime minister
A GLITTERING array of world leaders have flown in for my AI conference. X-Man Elon Musk, the US vice-president you see so little of and a woman from the EU I hate.
‘There could always be more world leaders, yes,’ I say excitedly, straightening my tie, ‘but I won’t apologise for my ambition in reaching out to Xi Jinping, and anyway look who we’ve got!’
Akshata looks round the curtain. She didn’t want to come, but Elon’s here and he’s a billionaire so outranks her so her dad ordered her to.
‘I see the UN guy here for Christmas shopping, the black woman who pushes Biden’s wheelchair, and the fascist from the Italian shopping channel,’ she says. ‘I told you cancel when Bill Gates and Bono wouldn’t return my calls. What even is Blotchy Park?’
‘Bletchley,’ I correct, patiently. ‘This is where Professor Stephen Hawking cracked the Enigma code for the first time. It’s a reminder that Britain always leads the way.’
‘In employing Indian programmers,’ my wife adds. ‘Okay, get out there, don’t tell them what you told me about wanting to become an AI, text me the minute Elon arrives even if it’s in the middle of your big speech. Father wants a low-orbit satellite.’
‘I’m going to tell them how wonderful AI is,’ I promise. ‘I’m going to extol its benefits, like being as dangerous as nuclear war, and tell them that I can be their Oppenheimer, baby.’
‘Don’t say baby,’ Akshata advises. ‘And ask Elon about tech roles in California starting 2025. They employ Nick Clegg, you have at least a chance.’
