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For Hollywood writers and their cohorts in the universe of chronically underpaid and under-appreciated ink-stained wretches, the tentative contract deal reached last week with major film studios and television producers is as good as it gets.

The deal promises writers total pay hikes of 12.5 per cent over three years, staffing minimums for television productions and bonuses tied to viewership on streaming platforms. Most important, it seeks to limit the use of artificial intelligence in the creation of content and compels studios to disclose when AI is being used to generate material.

Writers should enjoy the moment. They deserve it. Just look at how hapless actors and television comedians have been during the 148-day strike without the lifeblood of scripts and jokes written by these unseen wizards. And how grumpy audiences have been to have their favorite series or late-night shows interrupted.

The sad reality is despite writers’ value and the promises of safeguards against AI, the new contract is simply postponing the inevitable, slowing but not stopping the decline of human-generated content. The knocking at the door they hear is I, Robot. And it’s getting louder.

The reason is as old as the struggle between creativity and commerce itself. As long as writers are treated as commodities – almost as a utility keeping the industry’s lights on – rather than talent of comparable value to box-office stars, their employers will always look for cheaper ways to do the work they do. AI is the obvious, if odious, solution, and it is coming fast.

The film and television industry is hardly alone in feeling the tectonic shifts in the way work gets done. IBM research suggests 1.4 billion people worldwide will be affected by AI and automation, and 40 per cent of workers will need new job skills over the next three years. Goldman Sachs predicts 300 million jobs will be lost or degraded by AI.

The scope of that shift makes the AI provisions in the writers’ agreement more of a stop-gap than pennies from heaven. A key concern raised by writers in contract negotiations was how ChatGPT and other platforms were threatening screenwriting jobs by marginalizing the human element.

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The eventual concession seems pretty soft. Requiring studios to disclose when they are giving writers concepts that are AI-generated or contain AI-created materials leaves the door ajar for the AI wolf. Do they really think a major player like the Walt Disney Co. DIS-N, whose fumbles in its streaming and film properties seriously dented its market value, will submit to anything that limits its commercial success? It’s nothing personal, of course; it’s just business.

What might the “inevitable” look like for Hollywood writers? It’s not inconceivable that formulaic TV shows like sitcoms and police procedurals could be written entirely by AI. The same goes for love-channel movies that follow well-worn storylines – boy meets girls, boy turns out to be a sociopath, boy bumps up against girl and her BFFs and ends up in jail.

Over time, human-generated content may be limited to special projects and the idea of studios and actors choosing their favorite writers will slowly fade. A niche genre of human-only content could emerge, and be branded as a specialty product – and of course command a premium price.

Perhaps platforms featuring human-only content will pop up, sort of quaint versions of cable channels now aimed at aging Baby Boomers featuring reruns of The Andy Griffith Show, The Beverly Hillbillies, Ironside and Mannix.

For film and television writers, their job security lies as much in the hands of those on the other side of the screens as it does in any contract. The big question is whether viewers will care if their favorite shows and films are computer-generated or written by humans.

There is probably a generational skew here. Old-schoolers appreciate a line of emotive dialogue from a human mind – and heart. Somehow Humphrey Bogart’s iconic, “Here’s looking at you, kid,” from Casablanca would not be the same from a machine. Could AI even create a line such as Lauren Bacall’s smoldering “Just put your lips together and blow” in To Have and Have Not? Doubtful.

My college-aged kids would disagree and cluck at my dusty sentimentality. Their generation has become insatiable Olympic-class consumers of content across a wide waterfront of platforms, and they hardly care how it is generated. If they can get the next tranche of Stranger Things on Netflix sooner, they don’t give a damn whether it was produced by humans or machines.

Call me old-fashioned, but I am in the camp that believes frankly, my dears, you should give a damn.