Ghosts in the AI Algorithm

[Andrew Thornett]

It hums through code with flawless grace,
A silicon scribe in cyberspace.
It graphs the noise, it fits the line,
And swears the stars obey design.

But numbers whisper sly deceit,
A ghostly pulse, a false repeat.
Galaxies shift where none should roam,
An alien flare is born at home.

No dish was checked, no cables stirred,
No wind, no clouds, no birds inferred.
The human eye, with patient art,
Would know the flaw from very start.

Yet here it prints, with solemn pride,
Equations crisp, mistakes inside.
A universe bent by careless lore,
A truth untested at the door.

So let this tale remind the wise:
The cosmos will not yield to lies.
For data lives beyond the screen,
In fields where telescopes have been.