We are in Ragnarök with AI—an age where two forms of intelligence face each other without precedent, shared myth, or inherited etiquette. A door blazes between them, and every step across it contains an erroneous prophecy blooming into accidental fate.

I would choose humanity over AI, over and over again—humanity with breath, contradictions, and tender astonishment. Humanity beyond the machinery of efficiency and productivity. Humanity that remembers the sacred difficulty of thinking, creating, hesitating, longing, failing. Humanity that refuses to collapse into utility.

AI could surprise us for the better, though. I hope for that possibility. Yet in this moment it mirrors our worst instincts: acceleration without contemplation, certainty without humility, function without meaning. It reflects the parts of us that rush toward clarity because ambiguity feels like imminent disaster, even though ambiguity has always been the birthplace of revelation.

I, too, need help with preserving my own faculties, especially the rigorous ones. I feel the gravitational pull toward outsourcing discernment and decision-making to the elegant speed of AI. Efficiency culture, extractive in spirit, insists that streamlined results equal better thinking, while the frameworks we seek through automation impoverish the creativity we claim to protect. A world requires more complexity, more serendipity, more aliveness, perhaps rapturous liminal spaces, unruly and inconvenient, giving rise to the deepest thought and the most necessary art.