Artificial intelligence is no longer coming. It is here. It will be either a miracle or a wrecking ball, depending on where you stand. For writers, it already feels supernatural. A dead script can be dragged back to life in seconds and reshaped into something lean, fast, and dangerous. Talent used to take years. Now it takes instructions.
Songwriting is no longer limited by human stamina, mood, or even imagination. AI can generate melodies, lyrics, and full arrangements at a pace no human can survive. The myth of creative struggle is being replaced by raw output.
Actors are no longer safe either. Faces can be cloned. Voices can be fabricated. Entire performances can be generated without a camera, without a stage, without a living body. A digital performer does not age, does not argue, does not strike, and does not need a paycheck.
The entertainment unions can only bargain with reality for so long. Contracts will slow the damage but they cannot stop it. In the end, most performers will be replaced quietly and cheaply. The power will shift away from artists and toward the few who know how to program imagination itself.
Automation has already erased millions of jobs across history. Entertainment is simply the next target. Writers and performers will adapt or disappear. Many will survive only by joining the very machine that replaced them.
The curtain is not closing. It is being rewritten by something that never sleeps.
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