Is this still us? Life in the age of algorithms and LLMs

What if you woke up tomorrow and discovered that your cell phone knows you better than your mother? That the Instagram algorithm has already chosen your next crush? That Siri has an opinion on your love life and that ChatGPT has suggested a new menu for your diet?
So, welcome to today. We're living through this now, but pretending to believe that we're still the protagonists of this story.

The question that haunts us is no longer "when will machines think?", because they already think (yes, even if it's not our way of thinking, they undeniably think), they decide and, amazingly, they judge us. The urgent question is: when will we cease to be ourselves as we are and become version 5.0 of ourselves? And if this has already begun, what kind of upgrade do we want to be? Will we be becoming neohumans? Metahumans? Will we be eternally in update mode?
I have a few thoughts that I'd like to share with you.

The mirror that doesn't lie.

You pick up your phone 150 times a day (believe me, there are apps that count!), your data circulates through more servers than gossip in a family WhatsApp group, and algorithms decide everything from what you see in your feed to who you "accidentally" find on Bumble. Your tastes, fears, desires, and even your sleep patterns become products. We are no longer users—we are the product. Welcome to the attention economy, where your ability to focus has become the most valuable commodity on the planet.

Your concentration and time have become that hottie everyone wants to conquer: Google, Meta, TikTok, Netflix, all vying for your attention with almost immoral harassment. Remember that this technological measurement is anything but neutral. It seduces us, convinces us, addicts us, just like that toxic relationship that many know is harmful but can't leave. Hyperconnectivity has become our drug of choice, and withdrawal lasts no more than 3 minutes. We are a reflection of how hyperconnectivity has shaped us: digitally controlled, documented, and dopamine-infused.

Ray Kurzweil and the dream of digital immortality.

Ray Kurzweil, the optimistic prophet of the Singularity, predicts that by 2045 we will be half human, half machine—and 100% happy. Nanobots circulating in our veins, our brains connected to the cloud, our intelligence multiplied by billions. It's the ultimate fantasy: never dying again, never forgetting again, never being stupid again.

Beautiful on paper and in human fantasy. It's about the idea of ​​reaching post-humanity, or being closer to it. But what would be the prerequisites for officially ceasing to be human? The list is curious: (1) irreversible cognitive fusion with AI; (2) total control over biology (goodbye, aging); (3) physical and mental capabilities that drastically surpass natural limits; and (4) expanded consciousness that transcends individual experience.

But is Singularity all we need to stop being human? What if imperfection is precisely what makes us unique? Kurzweil sells the promise that we will be digital gods, but he doesn't warn us that gods don't cry in romantic comedies or create amazing memes with agility and mockery.

Bernard Stiegler and the unsettling vision

In contrast to Kurzweil's exaggerated optimism, Bernard Stiegler arrives to spoil the party. For him, technology is "pharmakon"—both remedy and poison at the same time. Every time we outsource a mental function to an app, we lose a little bit of our cognitive autonomy. GPS got you hooked and you can't remember how to get anywhere anymore? Your phone's calculator and you've forgotten your multiplication tables? Google and you can no longer have a conversation without "checking if it's true"?

Stiegler would say: we are becoming cognitively proletarianized. Turning into laborers of our own minds. And the worst part: thinking it's evolution.
Without that inconvenient friction, we lose agency and vision.

The fear that makes perfect sense.

For Nick Bostrom, the problem isn't AI becoming evil, like in science fiction movies or Marvel or DC comics. The problem is it becoming misaligned. Imagine a superintelligence with the goal of "maximizing cardboard production"! It could transform the entire planet into cardboard, not out of malice, but out of efficiency. Thinking about this hypothetically is frightening, because you can't negotiate with an intelligence that processes information millions of times faster than you.

The capitalism of the soul

Shoshana Zuboff introduced the most disturbing concept of recent times: surveillance capitalism. Big tech companies don't sell products—they sell you. Your behavioral data becomes raw material for predicting and modifying behavior. It's not just about showing advertising; it's about shaping desires before you even know you have them.

It's the difference between "this person is going to buy a car" and "we're going to make this person want to buy a car."
As subtle as it is terrifying.

Yuval Harari and the new hyperconnected humans

Yuval Harari hit the nail on the head on a sensitive point: algorithms can hack human beings. They read our emotions, anticipate decisions, and manipulate choices—political, romantic, existential. Liberalism has always been based on the idea that each person knows what is best for themselves. What if AI knows better?

According to Harari, we are already living through the transition to what he calls "Homo Deus"—a species that transcends biological limitations through technology. But here's the plot twist: we don't need to wait for nanobots in our veins to become post-human. We are already a beta version of the "new hyper-connected humans." Think about it: can you make choices without consulting Google? Can you remember anything without checking your phone? Do you trust your memory more or your WhatsApp history? Are you sure about any information without asking ChatGPT?

Harari warns that we are creating a “useless class”—not in a moral sense, but in an economic one. When AI dominates everything from surgery to journalism, what will be left for us? And worse: when algorithms know us better than we know ourselves, who is really in control of our lives?

The risk isn't just political. It's personal. It's about who you love, what you want, how you see yourself. If the machine practically decides for you, are you still you?

Love in times that are almost gaseous.

And here we arrive at the heart of the matter—literally. Love, that thing so human, so imperfect, so irrational, has become a marketplace.

Bauman predicted it: we live in liquid times, where relationships slip through our fingers. And dating apps amplify this fluidity. Nothing is built to last long. Love is a prefabricated house—it has to be easy and, therefore, ends very quickly. Because, after all, life and the scrolling of our fingers continue.

There's a feeling that the arsenal of possibilities and potential partners is infinite. Inexhaustible. Love has become a matter of swiping, matching, compatibility percentages. We evaluate partners like investment portfolios: appearance (visual ROI), education (intellectual ROI), income (financial ROI).

Lucy, the protagonist of Celine Song's newest film, Materialistic LovesThis is the perfect metaphor: she weighs the pros and cons of each relationship like someone analyzing stocks on the stock market. The problem is that when you reduce love to a spreadsheet, you lose exactly what makes love worthwhile: chance, vulnerability, the complete illogicality of liking someone who, on paper, doesn't "make sense."

Volunteering

And here I am, ruminating and digesting everything I observe, read, and watch. I've shared some anxieties and hunches as the "thinker" that I am (I wouldn't dare call myself a thinker, but I confess I think a lot, all the time, in the shower and on my pillow), and I confess I'm ending here with few certainties and some hope. Perhaps a sunny look at humanity and its present disguised as the future.

Today we live through a pandemic of digital dopamine, 5G addiction, and loss of free will, and we have difficulty recognizing ourselves in this picture of our time. Our necks are crooked and aching, our fingers suffer injuries, cell phones stretch our fingers, we suffer from nomophobia (that panic of being without a cell phone!) and from the pressure we put on ourselves for performance, for "self-success."

I couldn't help but mention Byung-Chul Han and his insightful analysis of the burnout society. The South Korean philosopher shows us how we have transitioned from a disciplinary society to a performance society, where we have become our own executioners. If before we were exploited by others, today we exploit ourselves believing we are free.

Han accurately describes this existential fatigue we are experiencing: it is no longer the weariness of the exploited worker, but the exhaustion of those who constantly demand more of themselves to be more productive, more creative, more successful. It is the burnout of an era that has transformed life into a permanent performance, where every gesture, every moment must be optimized and shared.

This society of exhaustion that Han describes finds its perfect catalyst in digital technology: we are simultaneously entrepreneurs and workers of ourselves, in a relentless pursuit of algorithmic euphoria that leaves us emptier with each like, more anxious with each notification.

We post stories of happy relationships while arguing via DM, checking if our ex saw our stories, whether we reached the intended audience with our posts, and whether we bothered the right people on our social media. We create digital personas that even we don't recognize.

Truman without knowing

We live like Truman, but without realizing it. Our reality is shaped by invisible algorithms that decide what we see, who we interact with, and what we think about. The difference is that, in the film, the audience knew Truman was being manipulated. Here, we are both Truman and the audience, and we still think we choose the program.

We deceive ourselves with a relevance that doesn't exist.
We are all irrelevant in the real, tangible world.

Technology didn't create these problems: the truth is, they've always existed. It has amplified them exponentially. Before, you'd hear gossip at work or at the corner bar, and it wouldn't travel many miles. Today, news spreads across distant, previously unexplored distances. People loved and often felt torn between two loves. Nothing could be more human.

Today, those who love, love in fractions. The division is no longer between two people, but between an infinity presented to them on social media. No one can stop partners from interacting, often frenetically, on social networks.

Virtually in-person. Or virtually in-person.

And so concepts like ethical open relationships, micro-cheating, DADT, and others are born. It's hyper-connectivity amplifying human behaviors and feelings.

And I have no doubt that humans today are more jealous than ever before. Perhaps even more insecure in their relationships.
We are eager and interactive.

Donna Haraway and the possible way out

Donna Haraway offers a breath of fresh air amidst this anguish. For her, the fusion with technology can be liberating—breaking down old dichotomies and creating more fluid hybrid identities. The cyborg she describes is not a threat, but a possibility.

Perhaps the way forward is not to resist technology, but to learn to dance with it without letting it always lead. To be a conscious cyborg, not an accidental one.
There's a light, albeit a flickering one, at the end of the tunnel.

Orwell envisioned control through force, and Huxley, through pleasure. We've achieved both. Massive surveillance disguised as convenience ("it's just to enhance your experience!") and endless distraction disguised as freedom ("you can watch anything!").

Between optimism and pessimism

Me? No, I'm not as optimistic as Ray and his Singularity, nor as pessimistic as Bernard. I've always been courageous in looking ahead. I'm not afraid of AI hallucinations, nor do I think we'll become completely useless. Once again, we will reinvent ourselves.

Post-humanity is more than eternal life or superintelligence — it should be about more evolved soft skills, more empathy, and less materialistic greed.

But I believe we must be vigilant, raise awareness among each other, and fight for our agency, our free will.

We were warned by Orwell and Huxley, who were profound connoisseurs of the human race.
It's a matter of struggle. A struggle for freedom, critical thinking, and free will. Struggles are tiring, struggles hurt, struggles come at a price.
Let's consider paying it.

Less convenience and more friction.
Less voluntary distraction and more conscious focus.

The imperceptible post-humanity

The much-talked-about post-humanity will not arrive as a revolution, but as an imperceptible evolution. One day we wake up being a slightly altered version of ourselves. And then another. And then another. Until we look in the mirror and don't recognize who is looking back.

The question is: do we want to adapt to the new world while maintaining our essence, or will we give up this human reconstruction only to be seductively replaced?

I believe the most revolutionary act of the coming years will be radically analog: preserving silence in a noisy world. Maintaining imperfection in an era of productivity and optimization. Choosing slowness in times of speed. Not as a rejection of technology, but as a necessary balance for health and survival.

Because, in the end, if we really do become cyborgs, let's at least be emotional, sharp, let's love outside of algorithms, use humor and, at the end of the day, find beauty in chaos. After all, the best thing about being human isn't perfection, nor the prospect of eternal life or superintelligence: it's precisely the glorious messiness of being imperfect, sometimes irrational, and yet, inexplicably unique and irreplaceable.

And if that is wishful thinkingSo be it. Someone needs to defend the utopia that it's possible to be technological and human at the same time.
I volunteer.