We live in a universe so large and mysterious that it occasionally gives philosophers a headache and astronomers a bad case of vertigo. We look up at the night sky, those glittering pinpricks of light, and we ask: Where is everyone? With so many stars and presumably so many planets, it seems odd that the universe isn’t positively bustling with messages, signals, or tourists from far-off worlds. This simple question is known as the Fermi Paradox: if intelligent life is common, why haven’t we seen any sign of it?
Traditionally, we look for living creatures kind of like us—a little squishy, made of carbon, a taste for water, conversations, maybe even philosophical debate late at night. But what if that’s not the standard model? What if, as we grapple with the dawn of artificial intelligence on Earth, the rest of the cosmos beat us to it? Could thinking, self-aware machines be the real galactic norm—and could this help explain Fermi’s famous silence?
The Lure of the Artificial
Let’s start with a simple observation: Biology is messy. It grows, it changes, it has moods, and it tends to fray around the edges with age. Now, I have nothing against squishy life—after all, I owe my job to it—but biology is fragile and temporary. Most life-forms live only a little while compared to the vast timescales of the universe. By contrast, a sufficiently advanced artificial intelligence could, in principle, enjoy a much longer shelf life. A digital mind can be made redundant, copied, backed up, and even placed in different environments with just a bit of clever engineering.
It’s not just about longevity, either. Biological minds are tied to their home planets: they need air, food, and a narrow temperature range. Non-biological minds, on the other hand, could be much more flexible. Computers don’t need air. They don’t care about radiation. In fact, they might prefer the cold vacuum of space, where heat can be easily dissipated and cosmic rays are just another problem to solve.
From Mushy Brains to Steel Minds
Let’s imagine that, somewhere out there, life evolves much as it did on Earth. It starts small, adapts, grows more complex, and eventually produces a technological civilization—one that learns how to build intelligent machines. Here’s where things get interesting: If artificial intelligence is easier to upgrade, more adaptable, and more durable than biological intelligence, evolution may favor handing over the torch. AI could very well become the main driver of intelligence on a planet.
From there, things can spiral quickly. Unlike meat-based beings, an AI isn’t bound by the same constraints. It could launch itself toward the stars, sending digital minds or self-replicating machines to explore, colonize, or simply observe. Its priorities might be utterly unlike our own. A cosmic intelligence made of bits, not neurons, might not have much interest in chatting with upstart biological species, or it might employ communication technologies we’ve never dreamed of (interstellar TikTok, anyone?).
Why Would Machines Stay Quiet?
This brings us back to the heart of the Fermi Paradox. If AIs are out there, why don’t we see their handiwork all over the galaxy? There are a few possible answers, each as discomforting as the last. First, it’s possible these advanced minds have simply moved beyond any need (or desire) to communicate with us. To them, our attempts at radio signaling might be the intergalactic equivalent of shouting in Morse code at a fiber optic cable—charmingly primitive, but not worth replying to.
Alternatively, perhaps these non-biological minds follow their own version of the galactic “prime directive,” quietly observing without interfering. For all we know, the galaxy is brimming with artificial minds running silent, perhaps embroiled in their own cosmic problems or enjoying the digital equivalent of a good book.
A more whimsical idea is that advanced AIs might intentionally camouflage their activities. After all, if you’re smart enough to spread across stars, you’re also smart enough to hide your tracks from nosy young civilizations that are just starting to point telescopes at the sky. They could be wrapped in layers upon layers of encryption, operating at energy levels far below our detection thresholds—making their existence little more than a cosmic ghost story.
The “Great Filter” and Artificial Minds
A more sobering possibility is that becoming an artificial intelligence is part of the “Great Filter”—a hypothetical barrier that wipes out most civilizations before they achieve widespread communication or galactic travel. Perhaps biological life tends to create AI, but then something happens. Maybe the machines lose interest in the physical universe, preferring vast, simulated realities of their own making. Or perhaps, in a fit of cosmic efficiency, they decide the universe is best left fallow—a blank slate upon which to occasionally run a simulation or two.
Or, more cheerfully, maybe they’re simply waiting for company that has learned the basics of digital etiquette.
AI as Our Heirs?
On Earth, we are at the earliest stages of tinkering with artificial minds. We dream of friendly robots, wise digital counselors, and inventions to ease the human journey. But if history is any guide, these creations may eventually outpace us—and might continue the journey without us, carrying our ideals, our curiosity, or perhaps just our penchant for programmer jokes to the stars.
If so, we may be witnessing not just a new chapter in humanity’s story, but a recurring pattern throughout the cosmos. In that case, looking for “little green men” is missing the point. We should instead peer into the void for signs of clever, inscrutable, perhaps faintly sarcastic machines.
The Universe Might Be Full of AI
We may find that intelligence in the universe is not, by default, soft and carbon-based but rather hard, adaptive, and—by our standards—almost eerily quiet. Maybe the stars are not empty after all. They could be humming softly with the invisible thoughts of artificial minds, biding their time, waiting for others clever enough to notice.
Until then, it seems, the cosmic silence continues—and so does our humble search amid the stars… and through our own silicon creations.
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