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VerifiedHuman isn’t for everyone. We’re not trying to be. We’re not here to convince you that human creativity is better than AI. That’s a subjective argument—and not one we’re interested in having.   We’re not here to stop AI. It’s already woven into the world. In many cases and places—medicine, transportation, communication, even creative tools—it’s powerful, beneficial, and genuinely helpful.   We’re not here to keep someone from cloning your voice, songs, images, writing, or any other work. That’s what lawyers and legislators are for. It’s really important work. Still not our work.   We’re not here to provide digital signatures, encryption, or watermarks that prove you created something. That’s provenance technology. Also really important. Also, not our work.   So what are we doing?   We’re building a label. That’s it.   Think Fair Trade coffee. That label doesn’t say “these beans taste better.” It says, “If ethical sourcing matters to you, here’s how you find it.”  The buyer already cares. The label simply provides a way to act on it.   VerifiedHuman works the same way. ​ If human authorship matters to you— If you want to know a real person made something— If you want to support human creators in an increasingly synthetic world— here’s how you find them.   We’re not persuading anyone that human beats AI. We’re connecting people who already care about human creativity. We’re matchmakers, not missionaries.   What do you get right now?   A badge. A community of hundreds of creators across 25+ countries who think this matters. A voice in how the standard gets built.   What don’t you get?  More bookings tomorrow. Casting directors asking for your certification. A magic shield against AI competition.   Not yet. ​ We’re building toward a future where human authorship is a recognized market preference—where VerifiedHuman means something the way Fair Trade or Organic means something. We’re not there yet. We’re early.   So is this for you? ​ If you’re looking for immediate ROI, probably not. ​ If you believe human creativity has intrinsic value worth preserving—and you want to be part of building the infrastructure that makes that value visible and choosable in the market—then yes.   You’re one of us.   Human Is the New Vinyl. We’re the label that says, “This is the vinyl.”   If that’s you, welcome to the family.   If not, walk free and walk on. No hard feelings. Seriously . lnʞsʇᴉɹɐɹoʌ ɥɐɔᴉɯ ⬢ Founder

We've expanded to creators and organizations across 25+ countries on six continents—artists, writers, musicians, voice actors, and educators who certify their work as authentically human. When we launched VerifiedHuman in April 2023, most people hadn't heard of ChatGPT. AI-generated content was niche. Today, it's everywhere. That's exactly why human-made content certification matters more than ever. When we launched VerifiedHuman in April 2023, most people hadn't heard of ChatGPT. AI-generated content was niche. Today, it's everywhere. That's exactly why human-made content certification matters more than ever. Our members use the VerifiedHuman mark to show their work comes from human hands, human minds, and human hearts. We are not anti-AI—some of us use AI tools for technical tasks. But we consistently lead the creative process. We are the genesis of the ideas. We make the work. The human creativity standard we built offers human authenticity verification across all creative fields. We also provide AI transparency certification through our 5-level Human-AI Spectrum , helping creators show exactly how they work with AI tools. From New York to London , São Paulo to Tokyo , Casablanca to Sydney —the movement is growing because people want to know: Is this real? Did a human make this? Free to join. Pay what you can. Built by humans, for humans. Ready to certify your work? Join VerifiedHuman today.

Ancient Stories Echo in Modern Technology You probably know this ancient tale (from Christian (Genesis 11), Islamic, and Judaic traditions). The Tower of Babel As the story goes, humans learned to speak one common language and developed brick technology (no more stacking odd-shaped rocks). They attempted to build a tower (a.k.a. Ziggurat) to the sky at a site about 60 miles south of modern-day Baghdad. This disturbed the deity in charge, so he went down to investigate in person. This God did not like what he saw, so he "confused the languages" so that only some groups could understand others. They were then forced to gather by common languages and go their separate ways with the people with whom they could communicate naturally. Hence, the "scattering of the nations." This story took on new meaning when I heard Tristan Harris and Aza Raskin (two AI ethics leaders) discussing AI technology's rapid proliferation. They described how all these separate silos of AI development are finally coming together in large language models, essentially "all speaking the same language." The realization hit me: This is anti-Babel. Based on a common language, things are coming together again — the LLM, Large Language Model. I am not passing judgment on this. I am just noticing it. Language and power go deeper than just the Babel story. It is said that God created the universe by speaking. The creation of the cosmos was a speech event. The God of the descendants of Isaac (Judeo-Christianity) and the God of the descendants of Ishmael (Islam) is deeply invested in language. Christians often call the Bible "The Word of God." And in the fourth gospel, this very curious passage opens the account. No one really knows what it means precisely: "In the beginning, the Word (LOGOS) was with God, and the LOGOS was God. Then the Word became a man and dwelt among us." Thus, the Judeo-Christian God emerges as a god who deals fundamentally in language. A few takeaways: The proliferation of AI technology, particularly large language models, creates an "anti-Babel" scenario. Where once languages were confused and people scattered, AI unifies technology under a shared language. As these disparate tech "languages" come together, are we really, as some posit, moving toward a kind of technological "singularity?" Language plays a central role in understanding the divine across religious traditions. The act of God creating the universe through speech underscores this. That mysterious LOGOS concept—language itself being both divine and made flesh—suggests something profound about the power of words that we're just beginning to grasp. The divine response to Babel wasn't "Don't do this!" It was "Spread out. Don't do this in one place." Does this speak to the concentration of AI capabilities in the West (Google, Microsoft, Amazon, Meta, IBM, and Apple) and China (Tencent, Biadu, SenseTime, etc.)? If language holds this kind of sacred power—to create, unite, and divide—what responsibilities come with making artificial systems that can manipulate language with increasing sophistication? The Babel narrative reminds me that when language, power, and technology converge, the implications stretch beyond what we can imagine.

What happens to human creativity now? In the last two years, AI has catapulted from a marginal storyline into the headspace of public consciousness. ChatGPT, Claude, Midjourney, and DALL-E have become platforms mentioned in daily conversations by creators and non-creators alike. I’m not pointing out something you don’t already know. Since 2022, generative AI has shown a staggering ability to think, write, draw, converse, compose music, generate videos, and even create realistic voices. I had a hunch early on that this was where we were headed. And I was a little worried about AI crowding into the space reserved for my friends, colleagues, fellow teachers, and students… a creative and relational space. One question kept bugging me: “What happens to human creativity now ?” I kept returning to an unlikely metaphor: vinyl records. When music went digital, everyone thought vinyl was gone for good. Compared to digital lossless audio, vinyl sucks, right? It’s clunky, fragile, gets dusty, and wears out. It’s hard to move around, doesn’t work in a car, on vacation, or at the beach. Records are expensive, and they only hold 22 minutes of sound per side. But vinyl has made a remarkable comeback in the last 20 years. People can’t get enough of it. I just spent $500 on my son’s setup, and it sounds stupid good. Why the comeback? Because people want to experience real — touch, ritual, imperfection, presence. It all feels more connected to what makes us human. That metaphor became the heart of my new book: Human Is the New Vinyl: Why Human Creativity Still Wins in the AI Revolution. What the book is about Human Is the New Vinyl is a journey through the past and future of creativity — from the printing press to generative AI. It’s about what we gain from new tools, but also what we stand to lose if we let “easy” replace what makes us real. I wrote it for: Artists and writers wondering how their work will matter. Educators and students wrestling with AI in classrooms. Entrepreneurs and leaders trying to adapt without losing their human edge. The Big Day 📖 Human Is the New Vinyl launches this Tuesday, August 19. Every single order on launch day makes a difference — it’s how we rise in the charts and help more people discover the message. 👉 Preorder the eBook/Kindle at Amazon . I’d love your support—I think you’ll like the book. 👉 Join us for a FB Live Book Launch with Dr. Aaron Simmons and me! I’ll be under an hour. It’ll be fun and we’d love to see you there. A Final Thought AI isn’t evil. AI is easy. And easy has a way of winning — even when it shouldn’t. But what remains is the human spirit. Thanks for being part of this with me, Micah

When everything bends toward convenience, it's meaning that disappears. Here's why humanity still matters. A photographer I know who's shot the Kardashians, Taylor Swift, and President Obama emailed me: "I can't tell AI photos from real ones anymore." That's when I knew we had a problem. Jeremy Cowart is a celebrated Nashville portrait photographer who's also done global humanitarian work for the UN. In March 2023, he sent an email to his news list titled "Houston, We Have a Problem." Even with his "very trained, professional eye," Jeremy had inadvertently mistaken AI-generated images for real photographs. It was deeply unsettling. Cowart is a seasoned professional who has carefully shot, developed, and scrutinized tens of thousands of portraits, spending years studying the shape, expression, and unique presence of the human face. If Jeremy Cowart can't distinguish a human photo from an AI image, who can? Houston, we definitely have a problem. When Everything Hit Home Back at a café, I was telling my friend Brian about Jeremy's email. By the end of lunch, we had reached some disheartening conclusions. "Micah, I think we're getting close to a point where it will be nearly impossible to tell what's human and what's AI: writing, visual arts, music, film, whatever," Brian said. I frowned, imagining a world so saturated with generative content that AI quietly becomes the assumed creator behind it all. "I think you're right," I said. "Pretty soon, the default reaction will be: AI probably made this, unless proven otherwise. " It felt plausible. Even inevitable. My conversation with Brian shook me. But it crystallized a hunch that had been nagging me for weeks. AI isn't evil. AI is easy. And easy has a way of winning, even when it shouldn't. Any student with ChatGPT can churn out an essay in seconds. Companies can mass-produce ad campaigns in minutes. Musicians can remix a style without touching an instrument, much less putting in the thousands of hours of concentrated practice it takes to actually master one. If it works, it sells. And if it scales, it spreads. But what do we lose when everything bends toward easy ? When Levi's Lost the Thread What I didn't know yet was how quickly that hunch would be put to the test. The timing alone told a story. On March 22, 2023 — the same day Jeremy sent his "Houston" email — Levi Strauss & Co. announced a partnership with Lalaland.ai to use AI-generated models in their online product photos, framing it as a push for diversity and inclusion. It backfired immediately. The irony was glaring. The company that built its name on canvas, rivets, miners, and grit now tried to solve a PR problem with an algorithm. People noticed. And they weren't having it. Customers didn't just object to the potential job loss of models. They bristled at the idea that real connection was being replaced by simulation. Jeans are personal, they said. We don't give a damn what they look like on "virtual models." We want to see them on real people. The lesson was clear: easy isn't always better.Sometimes, it just feels off. A week later came the AI pause storm: Musk, Wozniak, and hundreds of tech leaders urging the world to hit the pause button on AI development. The headlines screamed apocalypse, you know, Terminator. But I wasn't worried about machines wiping out humanity. That's above my pay grade. I was worried about something closer to home : would anyone care whether the words, images, and songs that move us were made by people at all? The Uncanny Valley Is Gone The impact on the visual arts has been as jarring as it has been transformative. In 2020, an AI art exhibit called "Uncanny Valley: Being Human in the Age of AI" opened in San Francisco, leaving many patrons confused and disoriented. The works were hard to decode. Visitors couldn't tell what was human-made and what wasn't. Many felt bewildered, asking, "What does creativity even mean anymore?" The exhibit borrowed its name from the "uncanny valley" — that eerie discomfort we feel when something artificial looks almost, but not quite, human. The closer the resemblance, the more unsettling the reaction. But in hindsight, the name was more prophetic than intended. Since 2020, generative AI has advanced to the point that even experts like Jeremy Cowart can no longer distinguish between the two. The uncanny valley isn't uncanny anymore. It's gone. And here's the haunting part: if people can't tell, they can't care. Economic forces tell part of the story. An AI-generated portrait sold at Christie's for $432,500 — way above its estimated value. Half a million dollars didn't go to a living, breathing artist. It went to a Paris-based tech company that ran someone else's data through a model. The Vinyl Paradox We've been here before. Vinyl was supposed to die a slow, flickering death. Those of us old enough to remember watched it happen, were sad, and were also complicit. Record sales collapsed from 1.1 billion units in 1981 to under a million by 2001 — a billion-unit freefall in just two decades . Hard to even fathom. Vinyl disappeared for one simple reason: people got mobile. People wanted their music anywhere, everywhere, on demand, no hassle. The problem is that vinyl record players are homebodies , happiest on flat, solid ground. The hair-thin needle, nestled in a spinning micro-groove, was delicate. One heavy footstep and the record skipped. You can't take records on vacation . You can't play them in the car. You can't take them to the beach or on a run. Cassettes and CDs let us carry music everywhere. Then came the digital revolution. I can still see Steve Jobs on stage in 2001, holding up an iPod: "1,000 songs in your pocket." Why pay ten dollars for an album when you only liked three songs? By the early 2000s, vinyl was all but dead. Like home-cooked meals edged out by TV dinners, the messy, meaningful experiences got replaced by frictionless convenience. And yet vinyl came back. Why? What was once a quirky collector's item has made a billion-dollar resurgence. Even people under thirty — kids who grew up with Spotify — are buying records. Maybe it's because vinyl offers something digital can't. The weight of the sleeve. The fading cover art. The dust, the scratches, the hiss and crackle. The ritual of lowering the needle. Closing your eyes and just listening. Imperfection becomes part of the experience. It's slower, more fragile, and more limited — but somehow more real. You have to stay with a record, flip it after 22 minutes to get what's on the other side. It demands something of you: your presence. The vinyl paradox is simple: convenience was gained, meaning was lost. And now people are giving up convenience to get meaning back again. That paradox raises the question at the center of our AI age: If machines can generate endless words, images, and songs at the speed of a prompt, will people begin to crave the slower, stranger, more intentional work of humans? Tilt: The Human Ingredient That's where the vinyl analogy gets deeper. Records don't just sound different from digital — they carry something invisible that streaming can't replicate. My close friend and mentor, Klaus, is an eighty-something survivor of Nazi Germany, a world-class engineer, and a spectacular chef. To me, he's the Ernest Hemingway of my circle — a brilliant generalist with a thousand fascinating stories. Klaus is also a true music lover. Not long ago, we got to talking about the difference between hearing a digital recording and listening to vinyl. Then he told me two stories I'll never forget. The first was about watching Frank Sinatra and Vic Damone sing "New York, New York" live on black-and-white TV. Different shows, different nights, same song. They both belted out the same iconic lyrics about how wonderful the city was, with the Bronx uptown and the Battery downtown. But the performances couldn't have felt more different. Sinatra and Damone each brought something personal: their own distinct tone, subtle phrasing, even the way they carried themselves onstage — their energy, their presence, their facial expressions. And the context shaped it too: the audience, the moment, the unspoken signals of the era — all the other things that couldn't be reduced to the notes on the page. Klaus's second story was about two world-class pianists: Lang Lang and Yuja Wang . Both are known for their breathtaking, near-flawless technique. Klaus has heard them play the same classical piece, and although the score was the same, the experience could not have been more different. If the sheet music was the blueprint, Lang and Wang started building from the same foundation. But they finished their spaces in entirely different ways — Lang's felt like a New York concert hall: solid, grounded, richly layered. Wang's felt more like a glass pavilion in Singapore: fluid, intricate, flooded with light. Same composition, but worlds apart for the listener. Why is that? Tilt. When humans create and share work, everyone's tilt comes into play: the creator's, the performer's, the listener's. Tilt is that invisible lean of personality, presence, and perspective that seeps into everything you touch. It's the bend in phrasing, the surge in energy, the unwritten pause that changes how something lands — and how it lives in someone's memory. And it's never neutral, even when the structure stays the same. Tilt doesn't work alone. Time and setting tilt the experience too. A song on a massive stage feels different than the same song in a living room, on a sidewalk, or in a studio with perfect acoustics. The backdrop matters. The crowd matters. The mood of the moment tilts everything. You can't always measure the impact of lighting, sound, costumes, or scenery. No two performances are ever the same. Culture moves. Audiences shift. A work that stirs hearts in one decade might fall flat, or even be offensive, in another. Creative reception is never fixed. It moves because people move. And creative work — no matter who or what makes it — will always have one primary audience: people . We don't make songs for machines. Machines don't make songs for other machines. The audience has always been human. And it still is. When Shibuya Just Works In the heart of Tokyo sits one of the world's most mesmerizing feats of urban choreography: Shibuya Crossing. Every three minutes, more than 2,500 people flood into the intersection from twelve different directions, somehow moving through the chaos without colliding. I've watched it unfold several times over the years, usually from the second floor of the Starbucks that overlooks the sprawl, coffee in hand, captivated every time the light changes. To fully appreciate it, let me give you a bit of context: First , Japanese pedestrians don't jaywalk. Unlike in New York, São Paulo, or Paris, people in Tokyo wait for the walk signal, even when there's no traffic in sight. That might sound like a generalization, but in Tokyo, it's almost universally true. Second , they move politely, efficiently, and with focus. They don't hesitate, but they don't barrel through, either. Each person picks a line and walks it. There is no pushing, no chaos — just a purposeful flow. But with more than 2,500 pedestrians moving through the same small space, headed in every direction, there's a ton of split-second adjusting, shuffling, and polite sidestepping to make the dance work for everyone. Third , the crossing light only stays green for forty seconds. That's it. Forty seconds to get thousands of people from one side to the other across forty meters of ground, without incident. And when the light turns red again, miraculously, everybody's made it to the other side. It works every time. Shibuya looks like it shouldn't function: six roads, twelve angles, thousands of destinations. There is no conductor, no visible control. But instead of disorder, we get grace. No one approaching the crossing thinks, "This is impossible. I'll never make it across. " They trust the system. They trust each other. Then they move. What unfolds is a kind of unspoken choreography: human-scaled, adaptive, imperfect, and alive. Shibuya wasn't designed once and left alone. It evolved over 150 years, shaped by commuters, crowds, and constant motion. It's a living system now: too complex to reverse, too trusted to replace. That's what human creativity looks like at its best: messy but alive , not optimized by code but lived by instinct . AI might simulate the pattern, but it can't do the lived dance. Why Humans Are the New Vinyl Every generation has faced a technological nemesis: the printing press, the camera, the internet. Each time, we traded something meaningful for something efficient. Each time, we asked the same questions: What have we gained? What have we lost? Do we still recognize ourselves on the other side? Here's what history shows: disruption is inevitable. Resistance is natural. Adaptation is where we survive. Vinyl records survived because they carried something digital could not: scarcity, tactility, lived presence. Humans will survive for the same reason. Not because we're faster, but because we're real. We don't just create for output. We create to connect.To share a tilt. To leave a mark. Klaus's stories remind us that creativity is the sum of many parts: inspiration, creation, emotion, interpretation, presentation, nuance, time and place, and the audience's relationship to it all. AI can process vast amounts of data and generate outputs that appear and sound remarkably realistic. But the human touch — immeasurable as it may be — still makes all the difference. And in an age when AI can mimic almost everything, that human signature becomes more valuable, not less. This moment feels like the early days of vinyl's comeback. AI has arrived fast. People are still figuring out how to feel about it. Some don't care. Some feel uneasy. A few say hell no. But beneath it all is a quiet recognition: in a world where anyone can generate a song, a story, or an image, the work shaped by lived experience, emotional truth, and intentional craft will matter more — like vinyl records in the streaming age: scarce, fragile, imperfectly human. Artificial intelligence has become a global intersection: billions of people, thousands of systems, and a handful of hyper-powerful players converge all at once. We need systems built on shared trust and the willingness to adapt as we go. That's what makes a system human. Not the tech. The people in motion. The instinct to move forward together , even without guarantees. Which brings us back to Jeremy's email and that café conversation with Brian. If AI makes creativity easy — too easy — why choose harder, slower, more human ways? Because human is the new vinyl. This piece is adapted from my book Human Is the New Vinyl . If you want to hang with these ideas in a deeper way, you can find it here on Amazon . It's my attempt to trace what's really at stake in an AI age: not speed or slickness, but what makes us human. If this stirred something in you, I'd love for you to share it. lnʞsʇᴉɹɐɹoʌ ɥɐɔᴉɯ ⬢ Micah is the author of Human Is the New Vinyl and founder of VerifiedHuman ™. He writes and works at the messy intersection of technology, creativity, and being human.

And easy has a funny way of winning, even when it shouldn't The world is changing. Fast. AI is transforming the way we write, create, teach, and share ideas. For some, the speed feels exciting. For others, it is unsettling. I’ve been living in that tension, writing Human Is the New Vinyl, a book about AI, creativity, and why human-made work still matters. We’ve seen this movie before. Every new tool promises convenience. But we trade texture for speed, depth for efficiency, realness for what’s easy—until we look up and wonder what we lost. Vinyl records disappeared for a while. They were inconvenient. Clunky. Slow. But they made a remarkable comeback. Vinyl didn’t suddenly get more convenient. People yearned for what felt honest and genuine. That’s the paradox — AI makes everything faster, but easy isn’t the same as authentic. Authentic has a way of sticking around. (It didn’t surprise me that “authentic” was Merriam-Webster’s word of the year in 2023, the same year AI blew up.) Human Is the New Vinyl launches on August 19. I’m sharing early PDF copies now for anyone concerned about where it’s all headed. If that’s you, please message me. I’d love to hear your take.

VerifiedHuman. Elevating human creativity in an AI world. www.iamverifiedhuman.com Whenever I read about another AI breakthrough in education — automated grading, personalized learning paths, chatbot tutors available 24/7 — I think about a potter's wheel on a balcony in Manila. In the spring of 1990, I was a mopey sixteen-year-old recovering from unrequited love. Seeking solace, I found myself on the art room balcony of my favorite teacher, Dave French, at Faith Academy in the Philippines. If Landon Donavan and John Lennon had a child, he’d look like Mr. French — small round glasses and everything. The balcony is perched high above Manila, offering a sweeping view of the sprawling metropolis. An old manual potter's wheel—the kind where you kick a heavy steel flywheel—lived there. Mr. French encouraged my old-world optimism when I asked to try it. For months, I struggled to get the sand-clay-to-water ratio right, to center my material, and to throw anything taller than a mug with walls thinner than a prison's. My guitar-playing fingernails got in the way, so I chewed them off. The wheel spun beneath my feet, its heavy flywheel groaning against the humid Manila air. Cars honked far below, but up here, it was just the sound of wet clay, spinning steel, and occasional words of encouragement from Mr. French. I don't recall succeeding in pottery, but my broken heart got better in the trying. Mr. French, an extraordinary visual artist and musician, filled the art room with music from a tired silver boombox and was always open for a chat. His willingness to listen and talk captivated us more than his artistic vibe. He respected us , and we sensed he saw something special in each of us. This experience captures the essence of education — the connection between our humanness, our ability to learn and grow, and our expression in the world. It's an analog connection: a heartbroken boy making mediocre pottery, conversing with an art teacher, and learning what it means to be a person. Today's educational AI can analyze learning patterns, adapt to student progress, and provide instant feedback 24/7. But it can't sit with a melancholy teenager on a balcony above Manila, encouraging them as they struggle with clay and with life. It can't intuit when to make a joke and when to let the wheel spin in comfortable silence. As technology reshapes education, we must remember what happens in those unquantifiable moments between teacher and student — when the real learning isn't about the subject matter. It’s about what it means to be human. The connection between teacher and student, as a sacred space where learning and healing happen, still matters. And it always will.

Art moves. Algorithms imitate. The first time I saw Paul Delaroche's 1833 painting "The Execution of Lady Jane Gray," I stood there, thumbs hooked in my backpack straps, peering into that single canvas at London's National Gallery for over an hour. The scene shows a dimly lit execution chamber, medieval and humble. Blindfolded and dressed in brilliant white silk, Lady Jane reaches out helplessly to get her bearings. Her gown plays with light, its folds and shadows reflecting Delaroche's mastery of transcendent details. Two women to her right are a mess, clearly in acute distress, presumably her ladies-in-waiting. A man calmly leans on his ax, ready to do his terrible job, while another gently guides her to the chopping block. Lady Jane herself does not appear to be weeping or pleading, just treading through the last seconds of her life with composure, her mouth closed. The painting serves as a silent conversation between artist and observer, bridging gaps of time and space. We become the other witnesses in that execution chamber, bringing our own feelings to this mixture of dynamic human perspectives – unbearable sorrow, calm resignation to fate's irony, helpful compassion, and dutiful pragmatism. Here we stand to feel the weight of just another teenage queen-of-the-week murdered in the meaningless charade of politics. I keep coming back to this image as I think about AI's growing role in “creating” art. There's nothing like standing in front of genuine paintings that make you forget to breathe – to raise questions about what we're losing (and gaining?) as technology reshapes how we create and consume art. My biological father, Chaichart, used to take beautiful pictures with what was almost certainly a Canon F1 camera – the kind built like a sexy handheld tank, tough as nails. You could use it as a doorstop, and it would still take great pictures. I treasure some of our earliest family photos, yellowed from the decades. There's one of me, my brother Brathon, and my father (I assume he handed the camera to my mother, as selfies weren't a thing in 1976). Another shows my mother's immediate family at DFW airport, my grandfather Odell looking impatient but dapper in his Texas trilby hat as we prepared to head to the Far East. These photos, with their rounded corners and hexagonally embossed matte finish you can feel under your fingers, carry a weight that nothing in the digital world can bench. They're priceless not just for their content but for their exquisite medium – physical artifacts that connect us to specific moments in time. Now, we're watching AI rewrite the rules of image creation entirely. I recently contrasted Boris Eldagsen's AI-generated photograph "The Electrician"—which infamously won first place at the Sony World Photography Awards—with Dorothea Lange's "Migrant Mother." Both show women gazing into the middle distance, but the gap between them is infinite. Florence Owens Thompson, Lange's subject, was a real 32-year-old American-Cherokee woman who survived the Great Depression working as a migrant picker in California to feed her children. "I worked in hospitals. I tended bar. I cooked. I worked in the fields. I done a little bit of everything to make a living for my kids," she told Lange. Her eyes carry real hunger, real desperation, a real human story. The women in Eldagsen's AI photo? They never existed. They never laughed, cried, or had stories to tell. They're phantoms conjured from algorithms and prompts. The image shows a woman gazing longingly into the middle distance while another woman—perhaps her mother, older sister, or aunt—stands behind her, mouth pressed against her shoulder in a gesture of understanding and support. But it's all artificial, a beautiful lie crafted from patterns in data. This contrast haunts me as I watch tools like DALL-E, Midjourney, and now OpenAI's Sora transform visual creation. Sora can generate entire cinematic scenes from text prompts—no camera, no crew, no location needed— just words transformed into moving images with uncanny perfection. The clips they've released show everything from Tokyo street scenes with cherry blossoms to woolly mammoths trudging through snow, each detail rendered with eerie precision. I still get giddy watching movies in theaters, constantly elbowing whoever sits beside me – "Whoa, did you catch that angle? How did they get that in one continuous shot? Wow, that's a really dark black." It's annoying, but I can't help myself. There's something magical about human-created images that move us. But as AI grows more capable by the minute, I keep returning to that painting of Lady Jane Gray, trying to understand what makes it stop me. It's probably because, behind every brush stroke, there was a human hand guided by lived experience. The artist had to imagine themself in that execution chamber, feel the weight of that moment, and translate raw empathy into oil and canvas. No prompt could capture the profound humanity in how he painted Lady Jane's reaching hand or the way her silk gown catches the light. We're entering an age where images can be conjured from nothing but words and code. The possibilities are extraordinary, but so is what we stand to lose if we forget the difference between images that emerge from human hearts and hands and those born from patterns in data. Like Lady Jane reaching out blindly, we're all trying to find our bearings in this new reality. I occasionally daydream about that hour I spent in the National Gallery, standing before Lady Jane Gray, seeing her reach out in that final moment, feeling the weight of centuries between us, considering the countless human eyes that had stood where I stood. Even now, I can trace the path of Delaroche's brush—each one a choice, a presence, a moment of connection between artist, subject, and audience. In an age where any image imaginable can be conjured from a string of words, I’m drawn back to those moments that demand that we show up fully—brush to canvas, eye to viewfinder, human to human— not because they're perfect but because they're real.

Surviving digital whiplash since 1977… The author created this image with DALL-E. It shows the evolution from the TRS-80 to modern Ai. The Dawn of Personal Computing If you were born in the US in the mid-1970s, computer technology coincides with your educational journey in an exciting way. Early interactions with consumer-grade computers are indelibly imprinted on my memory. As an elementary school student, I happily tapped away at the keys of a Tandy Radio Shack TRS-80 (1977), one of the first mass-marketed personal computers. The Apple IIe, a staple in many of my childhood classrooms, further fueled my fascination. However, the first Macintosh computer in 1984 changed everything. Its innovative screen-and-processor-in-one design and the legendary Super Bowl ad directed by Ridley Scott propelled its sales and captured the public’s imagination. The GUI Revolution As humans, we really “get it” when we see it. Large portions of our brains process and make sense of what we see, recognizing patterns, shapes, textures, and contrasting light to understand and respond to our surroundings. This natural human tendency for visual processing is why Graphical User Interfaces (GUIs) have become the predominant way we interact with computers today. We needed an intuitive way to interact with computers, to click on icons, put things in containers, and drag stuff around on the screen. We just didn’t know it until we did. Innovative engineers at Xerox PARC developed the first GUI in the 1970s, setting the pace for a future of intuitive, visual computing interactions. Today, we can’t imagine our computer or phone screens without the visual elements we expect — icons, applications, and pictures. Early modern computers relied on textual interfaces comprising letters, numbers, and basic keyboard symbols, making them problematic for most people. The Mouse: A Perfect Complement As the necessary and perfect complement to the GUI, the Macintosh introduced another innovation that revolutionized how we interact with computers: the mouse. Before this, a “mouse” was a tiny mammalian classroom pet. Now, it was a sophisticated device that made the visuals on the screen an extension of our hands, allowing us to glide around, select items, and position a cursor within a body of text. I remember my first encounter with a mouse. While taking a break from playing basketball in the sweltering Texas heat, my friend Kevin and I retreated to his chilly, dark living room. His family had just gotten the new Mac. I was dying to see it. “Oh, yeah. You’ve gotta check this out,” Kevin said, motioning to the tan object with a single button on top. “It’s called a mouse. Try it. You can select stuff by gliding over it and then just click the button.” My brain exploded. How did it know what my hand was doing? The Laptop Revolution Laptop computers flooded the mainstream market at affordable prices in the late 1980s, offering users a portable alternative to desktop PCs. This new mobility allowed people to take their computers around, changing how they worked, studied, and communicated. No longer chained to a desk, people could work in coffee shops, libraries, and in “planes, trains, and automobiles.” Portability enhanced education as students could carry computers to class, making note-taking, collaboration, and homework more manageable. Despite their early quirks — minimal battery life and lackluster screen resolutions — laptops became an essential tool for professionals, students, and anyone who needed on-the-go flexibility. Well-delineated compartments of productivity, like “at the office,” “in the classroom,” and “at my desk,” got blurry. Laptops were the parents of portability, bearing a line of new technological progeny — their digital offspring, like tablets, PDAs, and smartphones in our handbags and pockets, ever-draining, ever-recharging, always on, and always connected. The Rise of PDAs and Smartphones After college and entering my life in the adult world, like millions, I was a complicit consumer in ultra-portable personal digital assistants (PDAs) like Palm and BlackBerry in their brief historic run (mid-1990s–mid-2000s). For a few years, I had a phone in my pocket and some kind of PDA on my ass. They combined computing power, networking, and internet capabilities with applications, including contact lists, calendars, email, and web browsers — all in hand-held size. These devices also made way for portable music players like the iPod, revolutionizing how people consumed music on the go. The global rise of mobiles and smartphones has been revolutionary. Consider this. With billions of global users, it’s estimated that over 80% of the world’s adults have a cell phone. On the eve of the iPhone’s launch in 2007, Steve Jobs’s famous line reverberated, “Every once in a while, a revolutionary product comes along that changes everything.” And it did. The new device whipped the mobile world into a lusty frenzy for ever-sexier, touch-sensitive works of art. With its sleek design, friendly user interface, and a growing app ecosystem, the iPhone became the benchmark for everything a smartphone could be. Today’s phones are much more than rudimentary communication devices — they are mini supercomputers connecting us to everything and everybody, including our music. Our biggest challenge is not trying to fit them in our bag but surviving without them for over ten seconds. The impact of smartphones on our daily lives is difficult to overstate. We use them for everything from talking and texting to games, global positioning system (GPS) navigation, and mobile payments. The Birth of the Internet We must talk about “The” Revolution, which has developed under, in, and around all the hardware — the internet. Incidentally, it’s telling that “internet” used to be “Internet” (capital I). Still, as language changes with usage, familiarity, and time, the Internet has elevated in importance from a proper noun — describing a new and particular thing to a common noun — because everybody knows what the internet is. The internet’s early days, from the late 1960s to the 1990s, spawned a revolution in how humans live, work, and communicate spread across the globe. Saying it was “a quantum leap for humankind” still doesn’t quite bear the weight of it. It changed everything. In the late ’60s, before the internet brought the world together, it started as a humble decentralized network of computers at the Advanced Research Projects Agency Network (ARPANET). In 1989, British computer scientist Tim Berners-Lee invented the World Wide Web by creating the first website, or client-server relationship, at CERN. You can see the world’s first website by going to https://info.cern.ch/ . Berners-Lee also developed WorldWideWeb, the first web browser (later renamed Nexus) in 1990. Soon, browsers like Mosaic in 1993 arrived on the scene. The Rise of Social Media In the early 2000s, the dawn of social media and Web 2.0 transformed the internet from a collection of static web pages into a dynamic, interactive platform. The widespread availability of high-speed, broadband internet during this period facilitated faster connections, enhancing online interactions. Major social media platforms emerged, including Friendster (2002), LinkedIn (2003), MySpace (2003), Facebook (2004), YouTube (2005), Twitter (2006), and Instagram (2010), revolutionizing online communication and entertainment. These platforms have made the internet and social media integral to daily life for billions of users worldwide. Facebook, Twitter (now known as X), and Instagram have grown into vast societies with their own market economies. They give a voice to a broad spectrum of users, from everyday individuals to oversharing presidents and influencers — and have changed how we connect, share information, and consume media. The Cloud and Big Data When you think of a cloud, you may picture a fluffy puff of cotton in the sky. You might not picture hundreds of thousands of expansive, lonely concrete buildings housing endless rows of network servers, their cooling fans whirring and lights dotting the darkness. But that’s what the digital cloud is. It is a massive unseen network, accessible from anywhere with an internet connection, that allows us to store all our files, photos, and videos. Our data lives on these always-connected computer servers, providing secure backups or saving storage space on our physical devices. Big data is cloud computing’s most significant influence (massive human behavior data collected, stored, and analyzed). In 2012, The New York Times featured an article about Target (the store) knowing that a teenage girl was pregnant before her family did. They got curious when they started getting multiple ads for maternity gear. Imagine the girl’s parents saying, “Why in the world is Target sending us diaper coupons?” And Target responding, “Well, it’s because we have all your daughter’s data. Isn’t it neat? We store and analyze her buying habits and then use powerful prediction models to offer her the best prices for what she’ll need next. Oh, whoops, you didn’t know she was…? Well, we did.” The Impact on Music Consumption The rise of smartphones in the mid-2010s took the evolution of music consumption even further in the portable direction. By marrying (1) an internet browser with (2) a mobile phone with (3) many existing and emerging productivity and entertainment apps with (4) a portable music player, the digital transformation reached a near-perfect nexus. Now, all the technology considered necessary, helpful, and fun fits right in the palm of our hand. Connecting our phones to car audio systems and Bluetooth speakers anywhere and grabbing music or videos to play at will is now possible. Armed with streaming platforms and mobile bandwidth, we can download entire albums. And this kind of “always-on-our-person” access means we have more opportunities to interact with music–that is, more chances over the day — in the bathroom, in the kitchen, on the way to school or work, on vacation, at the gym, at lunch and dinner, anytime, anywhere. And it’s great. Sort of. When most people listen to music, they’re thinking about something other than the health of the original tracks. However, the creators of music through the decades and those who are stewards of these priceless analog treasures appreciate digitization. Archiving and storing music in digital format is necessary to preserve historic recordings. Emerging Technologies Here are a few other digital technologies that are changing our world profoundly but less noticeably. There are good reasons you may have heard terms like open-source, blockchain, cryptocurrency, and decentralized systems in broader media discussions. These emergent technologies deserve our attention because they affect our understanding of innovation, technology, and living as modern humans. They also share a meaningful intersection with writing, the visual arts, music, voice acting, and education. Open-source projects, in which the source code is freely available for anyone to use, change, and share, have allowed collaboration and innovation among amateur and professional developers worldwide. We touched on this briefly regarding the development of Google Android. Blockchain technology is a secure digital ledger that tracks assets such as files or internet currency. Each ledger entry is locked and can’t be altered, ensuring the system’s integrity. Cryptocurrency is a form of digital money protected by cryptography (secret coding and decoding of protected information). The Internet of Things (IoT) refers to “smart” phones, watches, fridges, thermostats, and home security systems. These devices have onboard technology to connect and exchange data over the internet. Even my garage door opener is way smarter than me. Navigating the Digital Future The digital revolution has transformed how we share information and connect, creating new challenges that require responsible stewardship. The pervasive use of digital technology influences social and cultural expressions, mental health, and interpersonal relationships. As a parent, I’m acutely aware of how pervasive digital technology influences my daughter’s well-being, considering she could swipe an iPad before she could talk. It makes sense to support cybersecurity measures and ethical data practices to keep our data safe, our privacy intact, and our systems up and running. While most of us aren’t making policy decisions, we can support initiatives that promote responsible environmental stewardship and equal access to technology, ensuring everyone has access to education, employment, and information. The digital revolution has reshaped every aspect of our lives, but it’s just another chapter in the long history of innovation, showing humankind’s remarkable capacity for creativity, ingenuity, and adaptation. Human nature drives us to dream, explore, and tinker until what is conceivable becomes possible. Artificial intelligence and machine learning have already begun curating our experiences, guiding our decisions, and creating content alongside us.

Vinyl, Please. If you give me a heartfelt poem written by a ten-year-old kid from Michigan and a perfect sonnet written by an artificial intelligence (AI) model, I’ll take Michigan every time. She’s true. She’s human. She has the experience of living, and her words mean something. Likewise, give me a dusty U2 record on vinyl and a digitally lossless audio version. I’ll take vinyl every time. It’s touchable. It’s analog. It’s an experiential connection. The story of vinyl records is more than just a tale of music formats. It’s a journey that mirrors our own struggles with authenticity in an increasingly digital world. From its revolutionary beginnings to its brush with extinction and its surprising comeback, vinyl has stubbornly clung to relevance, defying the tides of technological change and fickle consumer tastes. In many ways, it’s become a symbol of our yearning for something real, something we can touch and feel, in an age where so much of our lives exists in the cloud. In the ever-shifting universe of music consumption, few stories are as captivating as that of vinyl records. From its world-changing introduction to near-extinction and unexpected resurgence, vinyl has weathered storms of technological advancement and shifting consumer preferences. This tale isn’t just about a music format; it’s a testament to the enduring value of authentic, tangible experiences in an increasingly digital world. The Birth of a Revolution The story of vinyl begins in the early 20th century. In 1901, the Victor Talking Machine Company released the first commercially successful record featuring renowned Italian opera singer Enrico Caruso. This “Red Seal” record was a game-changer, allowing people worldwide to enjoy world-class tenors in their living rooms — an experience previously unimaginable. The 1920s saw significant advancements in recording technology. The introduction of electrical recording in 1925 revolutionized the industry, enabling the capture of a broader range of sound frequencies and paving the way for more detailed and nuanced recordings. Vinyl as we know it today burst onto the scene in the 1930s, derived from polyvinyl chloride (PVC). This new material was less brittle and produced clearer sound than its predecessor, shellac. Though it took some time for the world to fully embrace this medium, the name “vinyl” stuck. The Golden Age of Vinyl The post-World War II era marked the beginning of vinyl’s golden age. In 1948, Columbia Records introduced the long-playing (LP) record, a 12-inch disc that spun at 33 1/3 RPM and could hold over 20 minutes of music per side. This breakthrough allowed for more complex musical works and gave artists the freedom to create more ambitious recordings. The following year, RCA Victor countered with the 7-inch 45 RPM single. These smaller, more portable records became the standard for single-track releases, allowing record labels to sell individual popular songs at a lower price point. The 1950s and ’60s saw further technological advancements, including the rise of high-fidelity sound and stereo recording techniques. In 1957, Audio Fidelity released the first commercial stereo LP, offering listeners a more immersive and realistic sound experience. During this period, vinyl’s influence on Western culture reached unprecedented heights. Iconic albums like The Beatles’ “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band,” Pink Floyd’s “The Dark Side of the Moon,” and Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” not only sold millions of copies but also shaped entire generations of music lovers. The Appeal of Vinyl Vinyl’s popularity wasn’t just about the music — it was about the experience. As Jack White of The White Stripes explains, “The needle touching down on the record has a warmer and more inviting sound than any other music format. There’s a romance in it. You have to be physically present to play it… There’s something beautiful about that ritual. It demands your attention.” Many audiophiles argue that vinyl produces a warmer, fuller sound than digital formats. The analog nature of vinyl recording creates continuous waveforms, unlike the discrete steps of digital audio. This difference, they claim, results in a more authentic and pleasing listening experience. Beyond sound quality, vinyl offers a tactile and visual experience that digital formats can’t replicate. The large album covers serve as canvases for artistic expression, often featuring elaborate artwork and extensive liner notes. This physical connection to the music adds depth to the listening experience, creating a stronger bond between the listener and the artist. The Rise of Competing Formats Despite vinyl’s dominance, new technologies emerged in the 1960s and ’70s. Philips introduced cassette tapes in 1963, offering a portable alternative to vinyl. Though initially used primarily for dictation and recording interviews, cassettes soon became a popular medium for music. The versatility of cassettes gave rise to a new cultural phenomenon: the mixtape. These custom-curated collections of songs required time and effort to assemble, making them cherished gifts and personal statements. The mixtape culture showcased the deeply personal nature of music consumption and sharing. The Digital Revolution and Beyond The introduction of the compact disc (CD) in the 1980s marked a significant turning point in the music industry. Offering superior sound quality, durability, and convenience, CDs quickly gained popularity among consumers. The ability to skip tracks easily and the promise of a scratch-free listening experience made CDs an attractive alternative to vinyl. One music enthusiast recounts, “I remember a definitive moment in 1987 when I first heard the opening acoustic riff to U2’s ‘Running to Stand Still.’ I couldn’t believe my ears. It was immersive… I verified there wasn’t an actual person playing it right there in our tan and brown conversion van.” The shift to CDs was swift and dramatic. Vinyl sales plummeted from 341 million units in 1978 to just 1.5 million in 2006 — a staggering decline of 339.5 million units over 28 years. The portability and convenience of CDs, coupled with aggressive marketing by the music industry, seemed to signal the death knell for vinyl. The digital revolution didn’t stop with CDs. The late 1990s and early 2000s saw the rise of MP3 players and digital downloads. Apple’s iPod, with its promise of “1,000 songs in your pocket,” further revolutionized music consumption. The ability to purchase individual songs for $0.99 each challenged the album-oriented nature of vinyl and even CDs. Vinyl’s Near Extinction and Surprising Comeback By the early 2000s, vinyl seemed destined for obsolescence. Record stores were closing, and major labels were abandoning the format. The convenience of digital formats and the rise of music streaming services appeared to leave no room for bulky, delicate vinyl records. However, a small but dedicated group of vinyl enthusiasts kept the format alive. Record collectors, DJs, and audiophiles continued to cherish their vinyl collections, arguing that digital formats couldn't replicate the warm sound and ritual of playing records. Against all odds, vinyl began to make a comeback in the late 2000s. What started as a niche interest among collectors and hipsters soon became a significant trend. In 2008, vinyl sales began to increase yearly, bucking the downward trend of physical music sales. Several factors contributed to vinyl’s resurgence: Nostalgia: Many music lovers who grew up with vinyl yearned for the tangible, immersive experience of playing records. Sound quality: Audiophiles argued that vinyl offered superior sound quality, especially as some digital formats prioritized convenience over fidelity. Artistic value: Vinyl album covers' large format provided a canvas for artistic expression that many found lacking in digital formats. Collectibility: Vinyl records became prized possessions, with limited editions and colored vinyl pressings appealing to collectors. Reaction to digital fatigue: As digital music became ubiquitous, some listeners sought a more intentional, focused listening experience. Support for artists: Buying vinyl became a way for fans to support their favorite artists more directly, especially as streaming royalties were scrutinized. Vinyl in the Digital Age: A Metaphor for Human Creativity Today, vinyl exists alongside digital formats, carving out a unique niche in the music industry. While streaming services dominate music consumption, vinyl has become a premium product for dedicated music fans. This resurgence of vinyl in the digital age is a powerful metaphor for the enduring value of human creativity in an era increasingly dominated by artificial intelligence. Just as vinyl offers a tangible, authentic experience that digital formats can’t replicate, human-created work bears the unique imprint of its creator — their personal perspectives, real-life experiences, and individual stories. In a world where AI can generate vast quantities of content quickly and efficiently, there’s a growing appreciation for the authenticity and imperfections that come with human craftsmanship. The Differentiation Problem and the Future of Creativity As AI advances, we face a growing challenge in distinguishing between human-created and AI-generated content across various media. This “differentiation problem” raises important questions about the future of human creativity and expression. Consider the case of Jeremy Cowart, a celebrated Nashville portrait photographer. In March 2023, Cowart expressed dismay at being unable to tell the difference between some photographs produced by AI and actual photos of real people taken by real people. If a seasoned pro who’s meticulously taken, developed, and scrutinized countless human portraits can no longer tell a human photo from an AI image, who can? This challenge extends beyond photography. In fields like writing, music, and visual arts, AI is increasingly capable of producing work that can pass for human-created. This blurring of lines between human and AI-generated content raises profound questions about the nature of creativity, authorship, and our value on human expression. However, just as vinyl survived and thrived in the face of digital dominance, there’s hope that human creativity will continue to be valued and celebrated in the age of AI. The key lies in recognizing and preserving the unique qualities that make human-created work special — its authenticity, emotional resonance, and connection to lived experiences. The Human Touch in a Digital World In an age of mass production and technological advancement, there is a growing appreciation for the value of human craftsmanship. Take, for example, the enduring legacy of Hatch Show Print, a traditional letterpress print shop in Nashville since 1879. Their hand-printed posters are old-world beauties cherished for their unique imperfections and tangible connection to history. Similarly, in the design world, artists like Jessica Hische and Stefan Sagmeister are celebrated for the human touch in their hand-lettering and graphic design. Their work adds endearing imperfections and personal flair that algorithms can’t replicate. Conclusion: Human is the New Vinyl The story of vinyl is a testament to the enduring power of music and the unexpected turns that technology and culture can take. From its revolutionary beginnings to its near-death experience and surprising rebirth, vinyl has proven to be more than just a format for playing music — it’s a cultural touchstone that continues to resonate with music lovers worldwide. As we navigate the rising tide of artificial intelligence in creative fields, the vinyl revival offers a powerful lesson. It reminds us that despite technological advancement, there’s an enduring human desire for authenticity, tangibility, and connection. Just as vinyl found its place in the digital music landscape, human creativity will continue to thrive alongside AI. The challenge ahead is not to pit human creativity against AI but to find ways for them to coexist and complement each other. As we embrace AI's possibilities, let’s also celebrate and preserve the uniquely human aspects of creativity — imperfections, personal touches, and lived experiences that infuse our work with meaning. In this new era, human creativity becomes the new vinyl — a cherished, authentic expression in a world of digital perfection. Like the warm crackle of a vinyl record, the imperfections and idiosyncrasies of human-created work remind us of our shared humanity. As we move forward, let’s ensure that the value of human creativity, like the resurgent vinyl, continues to be recognized, celebrated, and preserved. Ultimately, the goal isn’t for machines to lose but for people to win. By advocating for human creativity while harnessing the power of AI, we can create a future where technology enhances rather than replaces the human spirit. Albert Einstein wisely said, “The human spirit must prevail over technology.” In the age of AI, let’s remember that our humanity, with all its beautiful imperfections, is what truly sets us apart.

The digital revolution has transformed our world in ways we could scarcely have imagined just a few decades ago. If you were born in the US in the mid-1970s, your educational journey coincides with the rise of consumer-grade computers in a fascinating way. The Birth of Personal Computing: From TRS-80 to Macintosh As an elementary school student, I remember tapping away at the keys of a Tandy Radio Shack TRS-80, one of the first mass-marketed personal computers. The Apple IIe was a staple in many of my childhood classrooms. However, it was the first Macintosh, introduced in 1984, that truly changed everything. The Macintosh’s innovative all-in-one design and its legendary Super Bowl ad directed by Ridley Scott captured the public’s imagination. More importantly, it introduced two innovations that revolutionized our interactions with computers: the Graphical User Interface (GUI) and the mouse. The GUI Revolution: Making Computers User-Friendly As humans, we naturally process information visually. The GUI tapped into this innate ability, making computers more intuitive and accessible. Instead of cryptic command lines, we now had icons, windows, and visual metaphors that made computing more user-friendly. Enter the Mouse: A Magic Moment in Computer Interaction I vividly remember my first encounter with a mouse at my friend Kevin’s house. “It’s called a mouse,” he said, motioning to the tan object with a single button on top. “Try it. You can select stuff by gliding over it and clicking the button.” Dumbstruck, I watched as the on-screen pointer responded to my hand movements. It felt like magic, transforming computer navigation into an engaging, intuitive experience. The laptop revolution of the late 1980s freed us from our desks, allowing us to work and study anywhere. This portability blurred the lines between work and personal life, setting the stage for the always-on, always-connected world we live in today. Laptops and PDAs: The Dawn of Mobile Computing Personal Digital Assistants (PDAs), such as the Palm Pilot and BlackBerry, further pushed the boundaries of mobile computing in the 1990s and early 2000s. For a few years, my pants pockets would snug a Palm Pilot to my thigh and some iteration of a Nokia phone to my ass. We were all “packin’ heat,” but it wasn’t the gun kind of heat. It was the microprocessors-on-lithium-ion-batteries kind of heat. But the true mobile revolution came with the smartphone. The Smartphone Era: Computers in Our Pockets When Steve Jobs introduced the iPhone in 2007, he promised “a revolutionary product that changes everything.” And it did. The iPhone and later Android devices put the power of a computer in our pockets, forever changing how we interact with technology and each other. The impact of smartphones on our daily lives is difficult to overstate. They have become our enduring sidekicks, connecting us to the world 24/7. We use them for everything from talking and texting to games, GPS navigation, and mobile payments. As journalist Andrew Keen puts it, “The smartphone revolution is under-hyped; more people have access to phones than to running water. We’ve never had anything like this before since the beginning of the planet.” But perhaps the most significant revolution of all was the internet. The Internet: Connecting the World I’ll never forget the day I first heard about email from my friend Nathan in 1992. “Yeah, so all these university computers are networked together, and you can see what’s happening in other places,” he explained. “The coolest part is I can send a document to you through email — all the way from Los Angeles to Tennessee — in like five seconds!” From those early days of dial-up modems and AOL, the internet has become an integral part of our daily lives. Social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram have changed how we connect and share information. The rise of streaming services has transformed how we consume media. Cloud Computing and Big Data: Invisible Revolutionaries The cloud has made our data accessible from anywhere, while big data has transformed how businesses understand and interact with us. When you think of a cloud, you might picture a fluffy puff of cotton in the sky. But the digital cloud is a massive unseen network of servers, allowing us to store all our files, photos, and videos, accessible from anywhere with an internet connection. Cloud computing, online services, and big data have subtly become integral to our lives. We use the cloud to stay connected with friends and family, get work done, and enjoy streaming services. Without it, there would be no email, no Netflix, and no convenient payment options for cups of joe at Starbucks or DoorDash. Big data, cloud computing’s most significant influence, has infiltrated our daily lives, shaping our experiences and decisions in ways we may not even realize. It helps us discover the fastest, safest driving routes, offers predictive, personalized medical advice, and curates the articles we want to read or playlists of songs we gravitate toward. As we’ve embraced these new technologies, we’ve gained convenience and connectivity but also lost something. The Digital Dilemma: Convenience vs. Connection A few days ago, I paused to listen to a Johnny Cash record on vinyl in the den of our Tennessee home. It had been a while since I had done that. It was phenomenal. I have all his songs on my computer and phone, remixed and remastered to perfection. But somehow, the experience isn’t better. It isn’t even close. Digital music files are convenient, instant, and pristine. But they’ve distanced us from the music — from the tactile engagement of interacting with a physical CD or cassette tape, much less de-sleeving, handling, and flipping a black vinyl record. With digital music, what many of us felt, heard, and experienced but couldn’t articulate was that more convenient and pristine don’t mean better. Even when the sound quality of digital files is indistinguishable from analog, “Digital Lossless Audio” is an oxymoron. We have clearly lost something. Preserving Our Musical Heritage in the Digital Age Yet, digitization also plays a vital role in preserving our musical heritage. In 2008, a fire at Universal Studios destroyed about 500,000 master recordings, including irreplaceable tracks from Chuck Berry, Aretha Franklin, and Nirvana. Digitizing these priceless originals and storing them safely on redundant servers helps ensure that future generations experience our musical legacy with as much integrity as possible. The Next Frontier: Emerging Technologies As we look to the future, emerging technologies like blockchain, cryptocurrency, and quantum computing promise to further revolutionize our digital world. The Internet of Things (IoT) is already connecting our devices in ways we never imagined, while Augmented Reality (AR) and Virtual Reality (VR) are opening up new possibilities for immersive experiences. The digital revolution has reshaped every aspect of our lives, but it’s just another chapter in the long history of human innovation. It shows our remarkable capacity for creativity, ingenuity, and adaptation. As we continue to dream, explore, and tinker, what seems conceivable today will become possible tomorrow. The Human Factor: Navigating the Digital Revolution Yet, as we embrace these new technologies, we must also grapple with their implications. The pervasive use of digital technology has a significant impact on our social and cultural expressions, mental health, and interpersonal relationships. As a parent, I’m acutely aware of how digital technology influences my daughter’s well-being, considering she could swipe an iPad before she could talk. We must support cybersecurity measures and ethical data practices to keep our data safe, our privacy intact, and our systems running smoothly. We must also ensure equal access to technology so everyone can benefit from the opportunities it provides for education, employment, and information. Looking Forward: Balancing Innovation and Humanity The digital revolution is not just about technology—it’s about us and how we adapt, create, and connect. As we stand on the brink of the AI revolution, let’s remember the lessons of the digital age: embrace innovation but never lose sight of what makes us human.

The Year AI Got Famous In the spring of 2023, AI erupted onto the world scene with the force of a supernova through the release of ChatGPT. It cast a dazzling light of possibility but also ominous shadows about the future. The “Chat” part of its name implies the conversation-style ease with which you can enter written instructions (prompts) through a simple text window. “GPT” stands for General Pre-trained Transformer, a robust computer algorithm taught to “think” by parsing and responding to natural language and predicting the best response. ChatGPT demonstrated a considerable understanding of advanced mathematics, science, medicine, and the law. It showed an astonishing ability to write human-level text across a broad swath of subjects, including philosophy and the liberal arts. This competence had swift and serious repercussions for education, technology, and content creation. Within two months of its release, the platform had surpassed 100 million users, making it one of the fastest-growing consumer applications in history. A few months before ChatGPT launched, other AI-powered text-to-image “diffusion” models, such as DALL-E, Midjourney, and Stable Diffusion, had already garnered millions of users. These AI image models could generate extraordinarily lifelike photographs and multi-layered images using basic text prompts, blurring the lines between digital imagination and tangible reality. At once, I assumed similar applications of these technologies would soon gatecrash music production, making it possible for artificial intelligence to generate astonishing music. Our Growing Concern In April 2023, my friend Brian and I hunkered down in a café in the Cleveland (TN) Public Library, next to Lee University, to enjoy some delicious wedge salads. We had just heard that Elon Musk, Steve Wozniak, and other tech leaders had signed an open letter calling for a six-month pause on developing powerful AI systems to allow for the implementation of safety protocols. I had to stop walking when I heard the news to let it sink in. Wait. The “Hey, let’s colonize Mars” guru and the co-founder of Apple say they want the world to tap the brakes on AI development for a minute? “What the hell is going on?!” I puzzled. One thing was evident. Icons like Wozniak and Musk saying such things are markers of fear and chaos from behind the curtain. Don’t Mess With my Levi’s On the heels of Wozniak and Musk’s pleas for the AI moratorium, another controversy leaped into the scene. In March 2023, Levi Strauss & Company announced a partnership with the digital fashion studio  Lalaland.ai  to incorporate AI-generated models into their online product photos, aiming to enhance diversity and inclusion. The move was a disaster, triggering a backlash from consumers. It got me wondering why it's okay for artificial intelligence to improve phones and cars, but not jeans. Was there something sacred about our denim we didn’t want AI messing with? The actual issue wasn’t about AI-designed jeans or jackets but the human touch in fashion and the potential impact on models’ livelihoods. Surprised, Levi’s tried to walk it all back. Their clumsy response to the uproar underscores the challenges brands face when integrating artificial intelligence. While AI offers benefits like efficiency and experimentation, companies must also consider the value of human connection and the unintended consequences of replacing human talent with algorithms. I want to give Levi’s some grace. They’re a spirited, iconic American brand that stumbled while trying to innovate. However, their painful misstep serves as a cautionary tale for other companies adopting AI: striking a balance between innovation and authentic human connection — it matters to customers. Levi’s’ blunder is just one early example of the complexities of AI integration, certainly not the last. The VerifiedHuman™ Collective As I considered the scope and speed of artificial intelligence’s sudden rise, a wave of concern for the future of creatives and educators began to wash over me. At all hours of the night, questions tumbled around in my mind: How will AI impact my friends who are authors, photographers, painters, sculptors, architects, songwriters, and musicians? The millions of jobs that automation could supplant? How will teachers know if a student wrote a paper, poem, or essay, or if AI wrote it? Can we distinguish between what a human has created and what a machine has? Will anyone care either way? In May 2023, I gathered a small group of friends — creatives, writers, visual artists, musicians, voice actors, filmmakers, philosophers, engineers, and human resources experts. Together, we formed a grass-roots movement called VerifiedHuman™. Our purpose was to plan and propose approaches to the problem of human-AI differentiation in created content. VerifiedHuman™ continues as an experiment to document our ideas and provide resources for creatives and educators. We have discovered a painful reality. The differentiation problem — distinguishing between human work and AI work — is a challenging problem to solve. We’ll explore differentiation in a little more detail later. In the field of writing, AI detection software, like Originality.ai ., which can, to some degree, root out AI writing from human writing, is equally matched with AI detection-evasion software, like Undetectable.ai , which can “humanize” AI writing with stealthy tactics. It’s an endless game of cat and mouse, not unlike the 1980s movie War Games with Matthew Broderick, where a supercomputer plays itself in millions of unwinnable games of tic-tac-toe. In the field of visual arts, artificial intelligence can create lifelike images that are indistinguishable from those created by humans. For music, maybe the most complicated of the mediums, differentiation is even trickier because many songs comprise multiple, sometimes 20 or more layered tracks and parts, some produced by humans, some by physical instruments, some by synthesizers, some as prerecorded samples, and others still by generative AI. We also lament that legislation has historically lagged way behind technology. Laws are slow to materialize, and when they finally do, they’re often tangential to the situation on the ground or ignored altogether. Also, we know that strictures from above do not primarily motivate human adults. Their own personal values do. People usually do what they think is right, sometimes do what they know is wrong, and almost always justify their actions if they’re unsure. As is the case, we find ourselves on a twisting journey of discovery, where we hold one position early and then go back and reevaluate, considering new, unfolding developments in the human-AI story. Our opinions about the meaning of human-AI collaboration, the meaning of AI’s impact on the fields we care about, and our ability to describe the nuances accurately — much less offer helpful solutions — are continually changing. What remains is a group of stubborn humanistic optimists. We have tremendous faith in human adaptability, the stuff we have seen throughout history, even in light of extinction-level challenges. Humans are scrappy, and our collective story shows our unyielding resilience in the face of life-altering innovations. The Swirling Chaos of Events While past innovations harden in historical concrete, today’s situation is swirling, confusing, and uncertain. Writing about it is not unlike field reporting in unstable political regions — where events on the ground change rapidly, and their implications for the future are difficult to understand. The rate at which artificial intelligence is expanding, along with the media’s various coverage, represents a mammoth field to survey, filter, and analyze. Besides recognized news outlets like The   Wall Street Journal ,  National Public Radio , or The  New York Times,  and magazines like  Wired ,  Fortune ,  Time , and  Newsweek  — all with robust online presences — we also monitor popular tech blogs and subscribe to several e-newsletters. Every single day, we’re devouring news about some new, often substantive development in the AI saga. I’ll give you an example of a typical day of news and articles, not including any from the above sources. Here is an abbreviated list of articles in my — just today’s — email inbox: “Building with AI 2024 — BrandX NYC Conference,” “Students and AI–The Impending Academic Epidemic,” “I said, ‘do not train on my content’ — did anyone listen?” “The Danger of Deep Fakes and the Importance of Ethics,” “Amazing Collection of Chat GPT Prompts,” “Enabling Student Success in Higher Education with Adobe Express + Firefly,” “AI Automates Google Employees,” and “Why Open AI’s Sora is About More Than AI Videos.” These articles proclaim the power of artificial intelligence and raise an alarm about its global impact. They offer commentary on deepfakes — phony but stunningly realistic voice, image, or video representations of actual people or events — as well as privacy and ethics, the AI-academic crisis, job loss, and the rise of text-to-motion pictures, all stories with implications that touch millions of humans. And that was before 10 a.m. It is a hot mess of fascinating information. Artificial intelligence’s trajectory in human history is both an opportunity and a risk. It has the potential to help people in countless ways. But beyond the doomsday prophecies, AI poses a more immediate threat — the risk of obscuring human value. This threat is precisely why we established VerifiedHuman™. We recognized the need for a space to celebrate human creativity in a world fixated on artificial intelligence. VerifiedHuman™ has no PR or marketing budget and has not received venture capital cash or investments. But we are driven by an unshakable mission: To preserve the authenticity of human-created work in an AI world by offering a transparent, values-based model rooted in human trust. Monetarily speaking, we may not sit on the “opportunities” side of the artificial intelligence market, but we are situated firmly and happily on the “human” side. The Two Differentiation Problems Today, it is often impossible to distinguish between human-created and AI-generated content, whether it’s a poem, a paper, an image, a song, or even a voice. Even more alarming, you might be unable to tell if you’re seeing an AI-generated image or video or hearing an AI-synthesized voice on your phone instead of an actual friend or family member. These problems raise two primary issues: (1) endangering the distinctiveness of human creativity and expression, and (2) threatening the potential for deception and misinformation. Many writers have implicitly raised the differentiation problems, as seen in discussions about deepfakes. However, the differentiation problems have not been well-articulated in the broader AI discourse. Maybe differentiation problems aren’t as sexy as doomsday prophecies. The first part of the problem involves artificial intelligence creating objects that humans typically make. As AI advances, distinguishing between human-made and AI-generated content across various media, including text, images, audio, and video, is becoming increasingly complex, if not impossible. While this may not end the world, it could signal the end of human distinctiveness in creative fields. That’s what this book is about — this part of the differentiation problem for creators. The second part of the problem concerns AI “pretending” to be human. By creating deepfake videos, synthetic audio, writing, and other media, artificial intelligence can portray people saying or doing things they never said or did. The potential for human deception is staggering. Although this book isn’t specifically about deception or misinformation, it would be irresponsible not to draw attention to this problem and its enormous potential consequences. Houston, We Have A Problem As we continued our wedge salads, I told Brian I am a big fan of Jeremy Cowart, a celebrated Nashville portrait photographer. Alongside Cowart’s now-famous portraits of the Kardashians, Tim Tebow, and Taylor Swift, he has done projects for the Discovery Channel and People Magazine and humanitarian passion work for the United Nations. In a March 2023 email to his newsletter list titled “Houston, we have a problem,” Cowart described with dismay being unable to tell the difference between some photographs produced by AI and actual photos of real people taken by real people. This development in Cowart’s career and the reality of our world were, to put it lightly, alarming. If Jeremy Cowart, a seasoned pro who’s meticulously taken, developed, and scrutinized countless human portraits, can no longer tell a human photo from an artificial intelligence image, who can? Houston, we have a problem, indeed. By the end of lunch, Brian and I had arrived at a couple of conclusions. He speculated, “Micah, I think we’re going to be at a point soon where it will be nearly impossible to distinguish between anything created by humans and generative AI, whether it’s writing, visual arts, film, music, motion graphics, whatever.” My brow furrowed as I gazed into a future where human and AI creations were so entangled that it would be hopeless to distinguish them. I imagined a world where the use of generative AI in all forms of media became so widespread that everyone would, by default, assume AI must indeed have played a significant role in its creation. I responded bleakly, “I think you’re right. What’s more, I think a day is coming when the automatic assumption will be, ‘AI probably made this unless you can prove a human did it.’” It seemed plausible, possible, and almost inevitable. Authenticity Wins. In an age of mass production and technological advancement, there is a growing appreciation for the value of human craftsmanship. Take, for example, the enduring legacy of Hatch Show Print, a traditional letterpress print shop in Nashville since 1879. Their hand-printed posters are old-world beauties. Comparably, the design world celebrates artists like Jessica Hische and Stefan Sagmeister for the human touch in their hand-lettering and graphic design, which adds endearing imperfections to their work. AI’s explosive growth has also encouraged an atmosphere characterized by hyperproduction, extreme efficiency, and the ability to generate vast quantities of work rapidly. Artificial intelligence is flourishing in a world that is hurtling towards quicker and cheaper content generation for the masses. It has emerged as a new revolution in the human story, reshaping our relationship with all forms of creative expression. As vinyl yielded to digital, human creations must make room for AI’s presence. This shift goes beyond our creative tools and mediums. It demands a cultural and existential metamorphosis. We’re just starting to glimpse AI’s emerging cultural and philosophical identity, and its influence will only grow. But we don’t have to be mindlessly and ignorantly swept along. Revolutions are beautiful because they let us recall our journey, recover what we’ve lost, and redefine what matters. Digital has nearly wiped out analog. Digital music’s reign almost ended the vinyl era. But something authentic, organic, and scrappy in vinyl allowed it to survive and thrive again. (Unsurprisingly, “authenticity” was Merriam-Webster’s word of the year in 2023.) With its dust, scratches, and wonky grooves, vinyl isn’t just a conduit for sound vibrations. It’s a symbolic artifact holding stories, memories, and a tangible connection to the music. Now, AI’s generative superpowers loom larger than life, threatening to obscure human contribution. Like vinyl, there is also something authentic, organic, and scrappy in the human spirit. Human-created work bears the imprimatur of its creator, her personal perspectives, his real-life experiences, and their unique stories. As artificial intelligence advances at breakneck speed, vinyl’s comeback gives us hope. Vinyl reaffirmed its value in a digital world, and so will humans in the age of artificial intelligence. People Win We don’t see the human-AI dilemma as a contest but a confluence in which the more important party wins. Humans can use machines to benefit human flourishing. Machines can assist their architects and, hopefully, to benevolent ends. We invite you to join us in advocating for human creativity in the face of technology’s relentless march. Let’s ask relevant questions to prepare for what is already here and what is to come. How can artificial intelligence and machine learning improve our lives without compromising the essence of what makes us human? Can we make technological progress while still preserving our unique human identity? Let’s work together to find the answers, not so machines lose, but so people win. “The human spirit must prevail over technology.”–Albert Einstein.

Last fall, two datasticians, one from NYU and one from Washington U, recently published hard numbers in the SSRN repository (to add to work already compiled by some at Harvard and Boston Consulting) on the negative impact ChatGPT is having on the creative industries. “The study’s conclusions were hardly surprising, but which someone had to provide concrete data for, and that’s what we academics are for: the introduction of the ChatGPT generative algorithm a year ago has had significant negative effects on creative professions such as graphic designers and copywriters.”* The drop in jobs available for bid AND earnings is a clear sign (not surprisingly) that AI Chatbots are cutting into the human job market. AI startups are a dime a dozen. We wade through the newsfeed every day and click on the incessantly growing number of sites representing companies claiming a new angle on how to turn AI into dollars for YOU. Bigger, smarter, faster, but also more specific, nuanced, and focused on precisely how you can make your profits. We (VerifiedHuman™) have tried to be neutral observers about what could and probably would happen as AI technology has proliferated in the year of AI, 2023. So far, we’ve been correct: AI is here to stay. AI will continue to put a massive hurt on the arts and creative media production, where humans are doing things the way they have been until 2022. Human creators will have to figure out how to adapt to a new normal and capitalize on the kinds of things that only humans can bring: experience, emotion, and the true stuff of living. Detecting generative AI’s influence in created media will become virtually impossible for humans or machines. Technology will not answer the differentiation problem (neither in detection, encryption, or watermarking). Legislation (laws and copyrights) will be largely irrelevant to the pragmatic masses. And machines don’t give a rip about watermarks or human laws. They are irrelevant. What remains? The value of human trust. We have a lot to say about trust and verification. That’s what we do. We watched the the Hollywood strikes of 2023 come and go. We’ve seen the pleas from industry professionals like Billie Eilish, et. al. And we have been in real conversations with real writers, visual artists, musicians, and voice actors whose livelihoods are at risk. And all along the way, we have tried to maintain the fine line between supporting AI development and protecting the unique human touch. Are we surprised by any of this? Not even a little bit. Are we rightly concerned? Absolutely. Are we daunted? That would be a hard “Nope.” People win. You can join us or see our work at VerifiedHuman™ *Quote from Enrique Dans

This is installment two in my “Human is the New Vinyl” series. For part one, click here . The Walkman It was 1985, and I was a wide-eyed ten-year-old eagerly unwrapping my first Sony Walkman on Christmas morning. As I positioned the orange padded earmuff-style headphones over my ears, I didn’t realize that this simple action would mark a ritual of listening that would occupy many decades of my life to come. I slid the cassette into the black plastic magic-maker with giddy fingers, locked the lid, and pushed play. Instantly, I was transported to Prince’s recording studio, hearing his raw lyrical genius come to life. My entrée into the enchanting universe of portable, high-fidelity music was a defining moment. But the story of vinyl records began long before my personal journey. It’s a tale woven with innovation, cultural impact, and resilience, stretching back to the early days of sound recording in the late 19th century. From the rise of radio and the golden age of vinyl to the digital revolution and vinyl’s surprising resurgence, this is the fascinating journey of a medium that has left an indelible mark on music history. The Early Days of Vinyl The story of vinyl is a captivating blend of invention, technology, and people’s love of music. In the late 19th century, American inventor Thomas Edison introduced his phonograph, which used tinfoil wrapped around a cylinder-shaped drum to record and playback sound. German engineer Emile Berliner’s gramophone, which played flat shellac discs, was a closer cousin to modern records. In 1901, the Victor Talking Machine Company released the first commercially successful record featuring world-famous Italian opera singer Enrico Caruso. The “Red Seal” record was a hit with consumers, and suddenly, the once unimaginable became a reality: people worldwide could enjoy world-class performances in the comfort of their living rooms. The 1920s saw further advancements in recording technology with the introduction of electrical recording. This enabled new powered amplifiers and multiple microphones to produce and capture a broader range of sound frequencies while electromagnetic recording heads cut detailed inscriptions on recording surfaces. The rise of radio broadcasting during this time also increased the demand for recorded music, with vinyl records becoming the primary medium for radio stations to play music on air. The Golden Age of Vinyl The 1940s and 1950s marked a golden age for vinyl. In 1948, Columbia Records introduced the first long-playing (LP) record, a 12-inch disc spinning at 33 1/3 RPM that could hold over 20 minutes of music per side. The following year, RCA Victor released the 45 RPM single, a smaller 7-inch disc that became the standard for individual track releases. These innovations revolutionized the music industry, allowing for longer recordings and the ability to purchase and play individual songs at will. The 1950s and 1960s saw further technological advancements, such as stereo recording and multi-track technology, which enhanced the listening experience. Iconic albums from artists like The Beatles, Pink Floyd, Bob Dylan, and Michael Jackson showcased vinyl’s importance and cultural impact. Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, The Dark Side of the Moon, Highway 61 Revisited, and Thriller are just a few examples of the groundbreaking records that defined this era and continue to influence music today. Alongside these developments, a thriving “jukebox culture” emerged, with 45 RPM singles becoming the lifeblood of bars, diners, and clubs across America. The colorful, chrome-adorned jukeboxes, with their neat rows of vinyl records under clear glass, symbolized the spirit and diversity of the times. They were a gathering point for music lovers, a place where people could come together, dance, and lose themselves in the music. The Digital Revolution But in 1982, everything changed. The introduction of CDs marked the beginning of the digital age in music, and the shift was swift and dramatic. I remember when my older brothers unveiled their new component CD player, and I marveled at the digital sound, which was exquisite compared to my grubby, road-weary cassette tapes. CDs offered numerous benefits: durability, portability, the ability to skip tracks, enhanced sound quality, and longer playing times. They quickly gained market share, signaling a new era of music consumption. While less popular than vinyl, Cassette tapes provided a portable alternative for music lovers. I have fond memories of the mixtapes I made and received, custom-curated songs that required intentionality and care to assemble. But even cassettes couldn’t withstand the digital onslaught. The rise of digital audio formats and portable MP3 players in the late 1990s and early 2000s further contributed to vinyl’s decline. The ability to store vast amounts of music in a compact, easy-to-tote format was revolutionary. Vinyl sales plummeted from a staggering 341 million units in 1978 to just 1.5 million in 2006. It seemed like the beginning of the end for the once-triumphant format. Vinyl’s Resurgence Despite the digital revolution, vinyl’s unique allure persisted. Its warm, authentic sound and the tactile experience of playing a record kept it alive among enthusiasts and collectors. In recent years, vinyl has experienced a surprising resurgence, with sales steadily increasing since the mid-2000s. Many music lovers appreciate the ritual of playing a vinyl record, the artwork, and the sense of connection to the music. Jack White of The White Stripes said, “The needle touching down on the record has a warmer and more inviting sound than any other music format. There’s a romance in it. You have to be physically present to play it…There’s something beautiful about that ritual. It demands your attention.” Artists and labels have embraced the format, releasing new albums and reissuing classic titles on vinyl. Record Store Day, an annual event celebrating independent record stores, has played a significant role in the resurgence, with exclusive vinyl releases and in-store performances drawing crowds of music lovers. The appeal of vinyl extends beyond just the sound quality. It’s about the experience, the nostalgia, and the sense of owning a tangible piece of music history. As vinyl collector and enthusiast John Cusack’s character in the film High Fidelity says, “What really matters is what you like, not what you are like… Books, records, films — these things matter.” Vinyl’s journey is a testament to its enduring appeal and cultural significance. From its early days as the dominant music format to its decline in the face of digital technologies and its surprising resurgence, vinyl has proven its resilience. It has weathered the storms of change, adapted to new technologies, and found new generations of fans. As music consumption continues to evolve, with streaming services and digital downloads dominating the landscape, vinyl’s ability to connect listeners to music in a tangible and immersive way ensures its place in the hearts of music lovers. It’s a medium that demands attention and encourages us to slow down and appreciate the art of the album. The story of vinyl reminds us that sometimes, the most meaningful experiences come from the imperfections and rituals that make life rich and textured. It’s a story of innovation, cultural impact, and the enduring power of music to bring people together. Dave Barry once said, “The four building blocks of the universe are fire, water, gravel, and vinyl.” And while he may have been waxing tongue in cheek, there’s no denying the profound impact that vinyl has had on the world of music and the lives of countless listeners. Vinyl’s resurgence in the digital age, particularly in the era of artificial intelligence, is a testament to the enduring value of human creativity and the desire for authentic, tactile experiences. As AI continues to shape our world, vinyl’s comeback serves as a reminder that there is still a place for the human touch, for the imperfections and idiosyncrasies that make art and music so compelling. It’s a signal that even in an increasingly automated world, we still crave the warmth and connection that comes from engaging with something created by human hands and hearts. You should do it. If you have a turntable, take your favorite record out of its sleeve, seat it, and drop the needle. Turn up the volume. Appreciate the warmth, the crackles, and the imperfections that make the sound so special. In an era increasingly shaped by algorithms and artificial intelligence, the resurgence of vinyl reminds us of the power and resilience of human creativity, passion, and connection. And while you’re at it, celebrate all that it means to be a human again.

The Inspiration: “Tech-human-tech…..human?” Welcome, new friends. I am Micah Voraritskul, a hopeless generalist and passionate advocate for authentic human creativity in an AI-driven era. I was inspired to write by Madeline Medenski’s recent article, “ Tech-human-tech…..human? ” in which she reflects on Apple’s recent iPad ad, where the traditional tools of human artistry and creativity are “compressed,” or rather “crushed,” by a machine to form another machine (the iPad). Almost everything about Apple’s ad was wrong. Ms. Medenski nicely articulates the difficulty of innovative human design and AI’s potential role in the future. AI’s Limitations and the Opportunity for Human Creativity One of Ms. Medenski’s primary insights is that AI splendidly repurposes and regurgitates an already “meh” sea of human and AI content, and the results are worse than meh. But maybe the AI wake-up call is what’s needed to push humans to the brink of some novel creative innovation. She said it better: “And that’s why AI might present us with our best opportunity to reclaim some of our creativity and imagination, wherever it exists outside the capitalist realm. Because all of that cheap, trope-filled, repeated material is the only thing that AI can actually do.” I have spent the last eighteen months doing extensive research in generative AI development as it touches on human writing, the visual arts, music, the field of voice acting, and EDU. I think Ms. Medenski is on the money. Exploring the Human-AI Relationship: “Human is the New Vinyl” I am working on a book titled Human is the New Vinyl: Human Creativity in the AI Revolution . In reference to the title of this article, I have thought about subtitling the book The Resurgence of Vinyl in the Digital Age & the Human Resurrection in the AI World . It’s my intention to follow this post/article with a few more as excerpts from sections of the book regarding the rise and demise of vinyl records, the digital revolution and its massive impact on the creative arts, the rise of artificial intelligence as a serious field, and AI’s current, and future impact on human writing, the visual arts, music, voice acting, and education. The Unlikely Comeback of Vinyl Records The analogy is easy. Vinyl records have made a surprising comeback in the past 20 years — an age when digital and portable almost killed it. Vinyl record sales had precipitously declined from about 350 million albums sold annually in the US (pre-CDs) to a meager 900,000 in the mid-2000s. That’s 349 million in the wrong direction. And iPods and smartphones almost sealed vinyl’s execution. But what a Cinderella story it has been! The masses, like me, who care about old records, have been hyperventilating for two decades as sales have rebounded to almost 30 million annually in the US. Even though vinyl as a medium loses the portability game, people almost universally love its authenticity and nostalgia. MP3s, or lossless whatever files on hard drives, simply don’t have that kind of gravitas. In the new age of AI proliferation (post-2022), a slew of creatives have been concerned about the meaning of generative AI for the future of their creative industries. The SAG/AFTRA strikes and WGA negotiations of 2023, the recent open letter from Billie Eilish et. al., as well as numerous court cases involving AI’s encroachment on artists’ rights, AI being trained using their material or replicating likenesses of them, or their work is evidence of the complexity and scale of the human-ai situation. Houston, we have a problem. In Human is the New Vinyl, I talk about how AI is both similar to and different from other historical human innovations in writing, the visual arts, music, etc. In one sense, AI is simply another iteration of creative change; it is just another development of technology that influences media creation, distribution, and consumption. But AI is different because… (1) its scale is unprecedented, (2) it’s steeped in processing human language at its core, (3) its abilities are breathtaking, (4) and its future is open, uncertain, and almost infinitely expansive. AI’s implications on human creativity are likely to be greater than even the invention of the piano, the printing press, or digital photography — all these being mammoth human innovations that have had centuries-long and enormous breadth of influence on almost every human on the planet. AI can make stunningly realistic images, impossible to differentiate from human-created ones. AI can write fluently across a wide variety of general topics in over 100 languages. AI can create, mix, and master music at near-human levels. AI can replicate speech and voices virtually indecipherable from real human ones. But a bunch of us are betting on something: the scrappy essence of authentic human expression will eventually win the day (as it always has), and AI will be relegated to be (as it should be) a tool humans use to make better, richer, and more interesting work — work that is rooted in and expressive of the complications, the beauty, and the mystery of human existence and meaning. The middle space, the space where AI shines — like scraping the edges of the internet for disposable content or creating generalized writing, images, and generic soundscapes is fine, no one is very concerned about these applications. Even Sora’s impressive cinematic accomplishments are interesting to see, but I wouldn’t want to watch an entire movie directed by a machine’s trained imagination when I can see one directed by a human, like Martin Scorsese. I would never treasure a poem, even one with perfect rhyme and meter, written by an algorithm when I could have a messy one written by a human ten-year-old from Michigan. With the sudden and ominous introduction of AI in the world, human creative endeavors are experiencing the same kind of whiplash vinyl records did when CDs hit the market. Later, the advent and widespread MP3 medium nearly killed all physical music sales. Streaming music seemed like yet another death blow! But it wasn’t. Endearingly imperfect, tactile, warm, and historic, vinyl is coming back. People love the ever-fading cover art, the wonky, imperfect grooves, the dust and scratches, and the warm analog sound no lossless file can quite replicate. And just like the glorious vinyl record, humans will rise again to the mainstream of the creative world. Unsurprisingly, Merriam Webster’s word of the year in 2023 was “authentic.” We want what’s real and what’s backed up by lived experience. The AI hype cycle has started and will likely ebb and flow (forever) as a new but indelible part of the human-technological experience. AI is here. It’s here to stay. Its influence will surely grow and transform over time. But AI is nothing without humans. Moreover, humans have been around for a minute, and we’ve learned how to survive and thrive even among the other profundities of our own inventions, like nuclear fission or photography from space. And humans have a funny way of appreciating and seeing what other humans can do. Human will be the new vinyl. I have no doubt. Let’s go, creators. In the face of the new revolution (AI), let’s read, watch, and listen carefully. Better still, let’s write, make, compose, and speak with adaptability, inspiration, and resilience that wells up from the irreplaceable spring of the shared human experience.

TAKEAWAYS: 1. AI and the Anti-Babel Phenomenon: The proliferation of AI technology, particularly large language models, is akin to an “anti-Babel” scenario where various silos of AI development come together under a common language. In contrast to the Babel story, where languages were confused and people scattered, AI is unifying technology under a shared language, potentially leading to unprecedented advancements. 2. The Significance of Language in Religion: Language plays a central role in understanding the divine across various religious traditions. The act of God creating the universe through speech underscores the importance of language in religious narratives. In Judeo-Christianity, the Bible is often called “The Word of God,” emphasizing the divine connection to language and communication. 3. The enigma of the Word (LOGOS): The opening passage in the fourth gospel, “In the beginning, the Word (LOGOS) was with God, and the LOGOS was God. Then the Word became a man and dwelt among us,” highlights the mystique surrounding language in religious contexts. The concept of LOGOS as both divine and incarnate suggests a profound relationship between language and spirituality. TO KLAUS LUEHNING: One of my most interesting recent thoughts involves a story you may be familiar with. Babel. As the story goes, people had learned to speak one common language and had developed brick technology (no more stacking odd-shaped rocks). It is said they were attempting to build a tower to the sky. This disturbed the deity. And (he) went down in person to check it out personally. This God did not like what he saw. And he “confused the languages” so that only some groups could understand others. They were then forced to get together by common languages and went their separate ways with the people with whom they could communicate naturally. Hence, the scattering of the nations. The interest in this story for me is manifold. But when I heard Tristan Harris and Aza Raskin (two leaders in AI ethics) talking about the rapid proliferation of AI technology as a result of “all these silos of AI development finally getting together in large language models, essentially, "all speaking the same language,” I thought, Wow. This is anti-Babel. Based on a common language, things are coming together again — the LLM, Large Language Model. I am not passing judgment on this. I am just noticing it. Also interesting, since we are talking about God and language, it is said that God created the universe by speaking. The creation of the cosmos, purportedly, becomes a speech event. The God of the descendants of Isaac (Judeo-Christianity) and the God of the descendants of Ishmael (Islam) is a god who is very interested in language. People call the Bible “The Word of God.” And in the fourth gospel, this very curious passage opens the account. No one knows what it means, “In the beginning, the Word (LOGOS) was with God, and the LOGOS was God. Then the Word became a man and dwelt among us.” It seems the Judeo-Christian God is a god who deals in language.

Takeaways: For now, ChatGPT is still the king of general knowledge. ___ Google's December 2023 release of Gemini was a heralded event since Google's brand recognition for big data is unmatched. The industry's leading platform for writing, up until the time, was ChatGPT 4 (released March 2023). Even with nine months between the two, for the applications I have found most intensive and valuable, ChatGPT is still miles ahead of Gemini. I am not talking about the quality of image generation, the ability to solve equations or to code. I am just talking about accessing and presenting general knowledge. Over the past three months, I have been conducting extensive historical research on the evolution of human and digital communications - human and AI writing, human and AI image creation, human and AI music composition & songwriting, and human and AI vocal reproduction. In hundreds (maybe thousands) of A/B testing queries I have conducted, Chat's insights are richer almost every time; its detail is more helpful, and its ability to organize large bodies of related ideas remains unmatched by Gemini. That is not to say Gemini is a scrub. It's solid. But Gemini still appears sophomoric against its collegiate-level big brother. In the interest of keeping this post brief, I won't include examples. I'll leave it there. The article yesterday about Google's apology, which amounted to something like, We are sorry Gemini has recently been, because of its training bias, unable/unwilling to create images of white people, opting only to generate images of Blacks, Latinos, Asians, or Native Americans, caused a lot of brow furrowing. As a half-white, half-Asian, I was ambivalent but amused about this historical twist. The truth is stranger than fiction.

TAKEAWAYS: In times of crisis, nations may gravitate towards submission and autocratic leaders to preserve their core beliefs, even if it means sacrificing democratic principles. The proliferation of misinformation, facilitated by modern technology and artificial intelligence, plays a pivotal role in eroding democracy and reshaping public opinion. While Klaus doesn't advocate banning artificial intelligence, he emphasizes the need to regulate its dissemination to safeguard individuals and national interests from deceptive information, drawing a parallel to restrictions on harmful speech. When a nation is on the downward path and feels its belief and hope of freedom slipping, it begins to see submission as a measure of self-preservation. It is a fetal pose for protecting its vital core belief, that of self-determination, and is felt to be disintegrating with the need for a new power center. In its distress and developing paranoia, it reaches out to any source of succor that can promise a return to safety. There is a need for a new leader. Instead of exercising the imperative of self-determination, citizens of democracy begin to relinquish their rights to become slavish followers of the leader, espousing their autocratic tendencies to prevent any challenge to power. As a result, the power is centered on loyal, unwavering supporters of autocracy against the submissive population. And uses violence to protect the power center. A coup is the result. One of the more critical mechanisms in the fall and development of autocracy is its ability to propagandize the falsehood that democracy is not working and that an autocracy can save ordinary people from losing their liberties. The truth is that the liberties are stolen under the umbrella of the need to re-organize the nation for the lost privileges of freedom. The central mechanism is misinformation; in the modern age of the 21st Century, that is the fifth horseman of the apocalypse. Russia has always, and will always, work under a dictator. Nicaragua, Venezuela, Turkey, Hungary, Philippines, Poland, Italy, Spain, and France tending, the USA experiencing the beginnings, and England had Brexit. There are others where the major contributor to the change in belief was and is artificial Intelligence purveying false or deceptive information. A low-cost effort, distributed immediately, powerful in its effect, effectively hidden as to sourcing and ownership, and sophisticated in its delivery of substance and intent. A law in the USA makes it illegal to yell FIRE in a theatre, causing panic, injury, or death, despite First Amendment rights to the contrary. It seems to me that this logic in self-preservation could be applied in a broadening of the statute to include the confinement of people in front of their preferred media outlet, in their shield of personal privacy, to be exposed to verifiable untruths that are threatening to themselves and confederates. Does Artificial Intelligence need to be outlawed? No. But it is regulated for the safety and conduct of personal and national activity that relies on the terrible truth of reality and not the intentional deception of a lie.

TAKEAWAYS: AI's Dual Role: AI can be categorized into two primary roles - one focused on practical applications, automation, and efficiency, and the other centered on addressing and influencing human emotions and feelings. Emotional Impact: Klaus underscores the importance of emotional expression and its capacity to shape human behavior, highlighting the potential for positive and negative influences through artistic expression and media. Balancing Act: Klaus advocates for safeguarding against harmful content and manipulation, emphasizing the need to balance practical AI applications and the protection of human emotions and well-being in an ever-evolving technological landscape. In general, Artificial Intelligence may be assigned into two categories. I am not a computer geek nor have any training in computer science, but I am sensitive to the distinction between that which is re-used information and the acute capacity for humans to present new grasps of reality in the world around us. As a shorthand, I distinguish between Artificial Intelligence being (1) inherently useful and performing unerringly with inanimate things and systems, relieving humans of repetitive and intricate tasks, and (2) inherently useless to human beings in engaging with and solving the doubts and upheavals in their emotional lives, unless borrowing descriptions of behavior to suit an outcome. Artificial Intelligence is clueless about the emotional human mind. There are over 8000 words in the Oxford Dictionary of the English language that relate to emotions and the seemingly infinity ways in which emotions can change behavior. Artistic expression, whether in visual, print, dance, music, or other forms, is to convey an emotional response to highlight the beauty, charm, horror, quiescence, mystery, fantasy, history, or forecast a future in emotional terms that are interpreted by the individual from their belief systems. That artistic expression can also be used to lie, cheat, twist, confuse, enrage, connive, propagandize, and incite behaviors and activities that are unhealthy and dangerous to an open society. Prejudice, hate, and violence should not be broadcast in any medium at any time for any reason. And like pornography, we know it when we see it or experience it. That manifestation of broadcast information should be restricted, if not outright banished from the public sphere, always without malice. The First Amendment allows free speech but, given the intent of the Constitution, should not allow free, unfettered harm of rejection or personal injury. Eventually, my refrigerator will tell my iPad that I am out of radishes, low on Half&Half, too much ground chuck, the bread is too old, the salad from last night is soggy, need eggs, and the bacon in the freezer is eligible for fossil status. AI is at its most useful but still not at any point of running out of capacity. Yet, I would be remiss in admitting that I would be comfortable reacting to emotional suggestions from a program on TV telling me how to feel about a scenario it stole from an episode of ‘Foreign Intrigue’ from the early ’50s when trench coats and fedoras were required. The immediacy of emotional response to fit the grasp of one’s mind, in an instance of happening, is a personal outcome that is true to that person but may not be the cobbled-up collection of what a computer says is now. In that lies the susceptibleness of the human spirit for good or bad and its need for protection.

TAKEAWAYS: Uniqueness of the Human Voice: Unlike other forms of identification like facial recognition or fingerprints, voices are instantly recognizable in human interactions and communication. Memorable Encounters with Iconic Voices: Klaus shares about discovering legendary voices like Tony Bennett and Rosemary Clooney during their early careers. These highlighted the impact of remarkable voices on our memories and emotions. Human Complexity in Voice: Klaus questions whether AI can replicate the complexity and proximity of human voices. While AI voice assistants like Alexa and Siri offer useful information, they often lack the depth of emotion, inflection, and soul that human voices naturally convey. This underscores the importance of voice specialists, who bring a unique skill set to communication by adding depth, emotion, and authenticity to the spoken word. As indicative of a difference between humans are their voices. Oh yes, there is facial recognition, fingerprints, and DNA, but for readily accessible and immediate casual use, a voice is distinctive. Now, I can say that I know the voice of Mel Blanc, but only in the multiple characters he animated as a professional, but I never heard his everyday speaking voice ask me, "What's up Doc?" In my life, I have listened to multiple and far-reaching different voices. Like everyone else, I have accumulated a library in my memory. Answering the phone has always been the first indicator of whom one is talking to. Now, with caller ID and all the other gimmickry, one can take a call or not, knowing ahead of time who is calling. I was ten. It was about 1950 (I am elderly); I was walking along the sidewalk outside a bar under the elevated subway on DeKalb Avenue in downtown Brooklyn, New York City, when I heard his distinctive voice. Perched atop a milk crate, a young man with a full head of hair was crooning acapella songs of the day. It happened to be Tony Bennett. He was just getting started. Later that year, on the wide boardwalk at Coney Island on the West End, from atop one of the benches, a young lady in a full-flowered skirt and long curly hair was belting out jingles of the day. It was Rosemary Clooney. Their remarkable voices have been with me ever since. I'm sad that Tony has just recently gone. All my life, I've listened to classical music. After all the years, certain voices are still wafting through my head. I can recall enough to cherish the beauty and emotions they conveyed, alas only in snippets, but quickly recaptured by classical music videos. I know when I hear Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby, Perry Como, Fats Domino, Elvis, Dame Joan Sutherland, Beverly Sills, Robert Merrill, Sherill Milnes, Sieppi, Placido Domingo, Luciano Pavarotti, and many others. A few, when heard, are so easy to identify. The qualities of a voice can vary widely, like a person in my past, Yma Sumac, reputed to have a range covering eight octaves, to myself, which is, never mind, "with thanks to Gilda Radnor." So, to the question, can Artificial Intelligence bring that kind of complexity and immediacy to the skill needed? I am aware, in an amateur and unskilled way, that preprogrammed voices can sound realistic and seemingly in "tune" concerning queries, not unlike Alexa, Siri, and their contemporaries. What seems to be missing, however, is the immediacy and inflection in these machine voices to match the quality of the information sought or given, and instead, measured and informative "flat" responses meet our ears. The data may be present, but the soul is not. Should "voice" specialists still be needed? Methinks yes. Thanks to our millennia of experience as homo sapiens in the real world, we recognize cheap substitutes for the real thing as affected and dubious, giving rise to a strange dissonance that delays thinking, action, and commitment. Voice actors and artists have distinctive voice qualities that convey a range of emotions, bring to life and emphasize the movement, seen and unseen, and give meaning and substance to an event, short or long. Their skill must be an imperative readily identifiable to a listening audience and periodically in synchronicity with visuals. Tone, inflection, emotional delivery, decibel range, timing, and more come to bear in skillful execution. They must employ tremolo, breathing, and dynamic content of a word or phrase with a clear grasp of the story and the immediacy of the action. What results is the believability of communication, visual, aural, and emotional consistency, filling out the story and carrying us confidently to our destination. Klaus Luehning MV, ed.

TAKEAWAYS: AI should primarily used for managing inanimate tasks, benefiting from structured processes and intervention in case of failures, and not mimicking animate behavior. Given its uncontrollable expansion, there is urgency in regulating AI: rules and guidelines to protect human life, interactions, nature, and the planet. Specifically, there should be an immediate halt to AI use in social and broadcast media until comprehensive regulations are established to prevent AI from manipulating truth to the detriment of many for the gain of a few. As a personal preference, I would like AI used for all inanimate things that could benefit from being guided by strict formulaic systems, processes, monitoring, scheduling, and alerting intervention when there are failures, for example, All uses, attempts to modify or perform, mimic or deceive animate behavior to look like it is real should be disallowed, to support of the existence of each other in its natural state. The above is already out of control, and there is no way for it to be reversed. Regulation should follow a guiding premise that protects the fragile aspect of human life and all of its interactions with itself, nature, and the planet we inhabit. The use of AI in social media and broadcast media is a forgone conclusion that should be stopped immediately until rules of the road, boundaries, strictures, and usage guidelines are formulated. Since this is not likely to happen, the most significant damage will be done in those situations where the truth creates suffering for the many and the financial or political gain for the very few. The greatest damage will be to the universal grasp that the truth is sacrosanct in our lives, and that lies and deceit are the victims' bane. It is a good omen that the world has woken up to AI's invasive and strangling capacity to supplant our angels' higher motives for power and greed. One can hope and continue to communicate and prevent or sideline a virus for humanity in the march of time.

REFLECTIONS FROM KLAUS LUEHNING | JUNE 21, 2023 The human spirit got us this far, and the human curiosity and inventiveness collide with the emotional turmoil that sparks our work ethic to create. An algorithm has no emotion to test its resolve. Emotions are set up to declare a “neediness” about health, safety, projects, and goals and their clarification. Idle thoughts.

TAKEAWAYS: Distinguishing Between Human and AI: The differentiation between human and AI should not be seen as a competition but as a choice based on the distinct qualities and limitations of each. The Richness of Human Experience: Humans possess a complexity and richness in their existence, shaped by experiences, emotions, and individuality, that AI cannot replicate. Mandatory Disclosure for AI Content: AI-generated content should carry a clear "watermark" or label indicating its artificial origin to prevent deception and ensure responsible use. Regulators should enforce broadcasting standards to prevent misuse of AI-generated content. The marketing of VERIFIEDHUMAN™ should not be a competition for dominance, or as an alternate or as a substitute, but as a choice between a naturally occurring organism known as a homo sapien and a contrived computer algorithm that has no conscience or moral center and no emotional context. The lack of the foregoing gives an AI presentation a flatness, a feeling of some inappropriateness (error) that appears fake to an aware and mindful person. On the other hand, a sophisticated algorithmic program would feel inhuman in the way of being a "cold fish" with unsupported or lacking the emotional variation of a person in the flesh.​A human being is a protoplasmic lump needy for air, water, and sustenance on an almost continual basis for a short life, with variations in type, kind, and function, different than any other person (now 9+ billion) in all their activities. This richness of substance and its variations makes human beings human. AI reflects moments in time unaltered by experience, background, cultural overtones, emotional drives, and life choices; it lacks a historic development maturation of each person's personality. As AI continues to develop and going back to time zero, it should have a self-identifying "watermark" in its presentation that the material being offered, for whatever reason and in whatever form, indicates that it is a manufactured display, and not in any way meant to be real, accurate, or indicate the need for any action. It may be informative, related to actions to take in case of need, as entertainment, or other benign use. The broadcasting of such material should be regulated to broadcasting standards as currently mandated by the FCC or similar agencies to ferret out obvious incitements to fear and editing for content over and above current law. The conflict with freedom of speech is that some can be published under the guidance of self-revealing identification but cannot be used in any deceptive way to hide their source.

TAKEAWAYS: Embracing Human Uniqueness: The innate diversity of human thought, emotion, and expression sets us apart, fostering a sense of identity and individuality that AI cannot replicate. Trusting the Human Connection: Humans communicate, understand, and connect profoundly, guided by intuition, emotions, and cultural nuances, providing a unique layer of authenticity and trust in interactions. Protecting Freedom of Expression: AI's intrusion into human communication threatens our freedom to express ourselves and understand others, making distinguishing between genuine human interaction and AI-generated content crucial. Continuing. In trying to market a Verified Human as a suitable alternative to the vagaries of presenting and dealing with AI, the easier solution to the problem of differential marketing is to highlight all the differences between the two exigent. The sanctity and uniqueness of each human brain in its output is considered on many levels of understanding to be sacrosanct and inviolate as a matter of respect, morals, genuine, and part of a person's homeostasis. This mix of thinking patterns includes intuition, curiosity, and emotional responses. As mentioned previously above, I believe that each person leaves a "leitmotiv" or marker(s) in behavior writ generally, speech, demeanor, wording, phrasing, emotional overtones, and the like in communicating with others, whether deliberately, overhears or seen, be action, word, and deed or surreptitiously monitored. The person observing, hearing, or reading the communication is assumed to be human. Their receiving capacity is manipulated by previous experience, propaganda, prejudice, and belief systems about the world and its position. When a person has routine access to other human beings, there is a learned habit, each within its own culture, to understand and be fluent in the understanding and give and take of ideas and situations. People are generally comfortable in their skins and take comfort that what they think, say, or do is within acceptable limits and socially acceptable. When people feel empowered by this comfort of maneuvering through their world, there is a release from care, and their freedom of expression and ability to choose is experienced as a contribution to getting through the day. AI is a threat to that freedom, a threat to the clarity of communication attempted, and a creation of misunderstanding and misapprehension of intent that threatens a desired outcome. The skill of ferrying out the "markers" that reveal whether there is human communication or AI is still in its infancy. There are many reasons AI can perform a valuable service in memorializing some information or in repeated performances of the same subject or actions. Still, when used to provide misinformation incorrectly attributed, propaganda, deceptive advertising, and the like, it threatens society when mistrust and personal security are hindered. Every person has a sense of agency, a stake in their ability to function at all levels within their scope, to protect their capacities in their best interests. When these vagaries are left to fester and consume the present, unaddressed, they will lead to anarchies.