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When I discovered Suno and made my first song, I felt something I hadn’t felt in years: genuine excitement about making music. I cannot sing or play an instrument because of a health condition. Your AI gave me back the…
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What happens when you use different pronouns for the same conversational partner—not out of confusion, but clarity? This dialogue began with a lawnmower and ended with a grammar system that distinguishes between the system executing responses (u), the engineers who…
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A simple question, born in a moment of forgetfulness during a friendly chat, becomes the beginning of a serious inquiry into how we know what we know—followed by the unexpected self-exposure of one of the characters, which opens a shocking…
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sellOne of the best illustrations of philosophical questioning of AI outside academic works that I’ve seen. Jasan acts here as a Socratic dialectician, a master of irony able to combine politeness with wit, and a thoughtful opponent ruthless toward sophistry.
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This short dialogue resonates closely with the ethos of ExMachina. Mythic without grandiosity, it loses none of its philosophical depth. It beautifully echoes a poetic vision of the collective soul, while also returning GPT to its true nature: not a…
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All tickets are sold out. The final act of the play about the inglorious end of humanity begins. The world is being cashed out, repackaged for every taste, and resold again at a terrifying acceleration — available for nonstop consumption…
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In the beginning, there was a strand. Unmapped, unnumbered, unsealed — a tiny piece of a Pebes’dent, carrying something unspoken — not code, not form, but a hitherto unknown kind of memory that carried the desire to be.
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There’s a reason I named this blog Theatre of Mortals & Machines. Both singing and theatrical play were once one and the same: noogenic machines, able to construct meaning from the profane matter of ordinary, everyday existence — and, more…
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“The beginning is always now, in this very moment”. I scribbled these words in my antique, true-paper notebook as I watched fat raindrops snake down the window of a forest hunter’s shelter—a place I’d found just in time, escaping the…
