Imagine yourself in a room with a machine. It responds faster, more precisely, tirelessly. You, on the other hand, hesitate. You wonder if your thought was even necessary. Whether your human impulse is inefficient by nature. Welcome to the everyday life of the future. Welcome to the loss of control you ordered yourself.
The biggest lie in the AI discourse? That we are still in control. The second-biggest? That humans are at the centre.
What we’re actually doing is the opposite: we are systematically hollowing out humanity – labelling it as emotion, as uncertainty, as “bias” – and celebrating it as progress. We degrade empathy into a disruption. We let machines make decisions and call it “data-driven”. We reduce the complexity of being human into patterns of response – until all that’s left is an algorithm with skin.
Want to use AI efficiently? Then finally realise that efficiency is not a human ideal.
We’ve become addicted to the machine’s logic – without realising it has amputated our ability to think. AI doesn’t show us how smart it is. It shows us how intellectually lazy we’ve become.
The irony? The smarter the machines, the duller our questions. Instead of questioning meaning, we optimise processes. Instead of deepening relationships, we automate communication. Instead of developing moral stance, we adapt to the system we created – as if selling our own dehumanisation was a viable business model.
Technology is ready – but we are not. We think in instructions, not in responsibility. In features, not in existential questions. In tools, not in transformation.
We crave control – and willingly hand it over to machines we no longer question. Because they appear objective. Because they seem neutral. Because they take away the complexity we never truly wanted to handle.
But truth is not a function. It is a process. And responsibility is not a feature. It is a state of consciousness.
If you implement AI today without designing humanity into the equation, you’re not just programming systems – you’re coding the disappearance of the self.
Because the human who stops thinking for themselves becomes a vessel for someone else’s logic. And the most dangerous part of it isn’t the technology. It’s our silent willingness to submit to it.
Do you understand what’s truly at stake?
Not your job.
Not your role.
Not your relevance.
But your relationship to yourself – in a world that’s slowly detaching you from everything that makes you feel alive.
We’ve made the human a footnote to technology. And because we believe AI is neutral, we tolerate that humanity becomes negotiable. But it is not. It is not optimisable. Not measurable. Not reducible. It is what remains once everything measurable is already handled by machines.
Humanity is not a soft skill. It is the final unbreakable core you cannot outsource.
And this is exactly why cooperating with AI is not a matter of integration. It’s a matter of attitude.
Attitude begins where you stop avoiding yourself. Where you don’t ask: How can I do this faster with AI? – but instead: What does it mean that I do it at all? And more importantly: What happens to me when I stop feeling what it means?
The machine knows no guilt, no doubt, no remorse. But you do. And that is your value.
Your humanity is not a glitch in the system. It is the system. Or at least, it should be.
But as long as you think you can install AI like an app without reconfiguring your thinking, you remain trapped in a dangerous illusion: that technology is your tool – when in fact, you’ve already become its product.
What Now?
Don’t ask how to make AI faster, more efficient, more productive.
Ask yourself how to become more human – while doing it.
Because that’s the real challenge: not taming the machine, but reclaiming the human. Not perfecting processes, but rethinking meaning. Not automating the future, but inhabiting the present.
R2049 