The unpolished story
Humans. Humans. humans.
We wake up, swipe, scroll, swipe again. Every tap excites a particle in an AI field around us. Like walking through the electromagnetic field. Algorithm listens, learns, predicts, speaks. Sometimes it laughs.
Yet we do want humans.
A voice across the desk, the nod that says “yes, I’m with you.” The barista’s grin when the machine jams and we both chuckle at the hiss.
The moments that stitch the day together. Algorithms crunch data; they do not hold your gaze when words slip.
Look at any great city square. Stone, steel, glass - nothing moves until people arrive. Then its alive, its music, its movement. Connection gives texture to the air. It makes the air breathable, like oxygen.
So let the AI field buzz. It will settle down. Let it draft our emails and map our routes. But when dusk makes the sky red, reach over. Share stories. Share bread. Tell the small, unpolished story in the unique way only you can tell. Humans need humans. Always have. And they still do.