We thought we were original creators facing pale copiers. We discover that we too are imitation machines. So what remains of the wall that separated us from AI?

We defend our mind as a sanctuary of originality. What if it were actually a factory? An extraordinarily sophisticated plant whose main business is to imitate, compress, and recreate the world.

The Lovelace-Turing duel goes in circles because it rests on a mystical vision of creativity. What if, to break the deadlock, we had to commit a sacrilege: put creativity itself on the dissection table?

Can an AI be creative? This question is not new. It was posed at the very birth of computing, by two visionary minds whose intellectual duel still shapes our greatest fears and hopes today.

When a patient tells me that AI understands her better than those close to her, what is really happening? What if our capacity to project humanity onto otherness were not a cognitive error, but our greatest wisdom? An essay on the urgency to love in the face of radical difference.