< the skull

THE SYNTHETIC PROBLEM
=====================
2026-05-30

Well, I do not quite know how to begin this text, but I want to talk about AI.

I am a strong supporter and enthusiast of AI, especially for ordinary tasks such
as translations, corrections, and revisions. But how far is that actually good?

I remember when I invested heavily in Nvidia in 2022. I knew what was coming,
and I warned my friends. As ChatGPT was slowly and quietly entering the scene, I
was not going to invest in the bakery; I was going to invest in the baker. That
is how I ended up with Nvidia. And I must confess: as a veteran AI tester, I was
impressed by ChatGPT.

I remember that a few months after using it for the first time, I discovered
what was then still a baby: the so-called Stable Diffusion. And I thought it was
incredible. The first versions ran on Google Colab notebooks, and man, the
system’s roughness produced some truly insane aberrations.

That night, I went to sleep thinking about what AI would become. About its
importance. Until that moment, I had never seen it as a threat. I saw it as a
way to accelerate projects, rediscover things, and optimize processes.

The problem began when the enthusiasts started replacing their brains with AI:
the laziness of thinking, the lack of creativity, the vague prompts. That was
enough to unleash a synthetic wave.

In the momentum of progress, everyone began leaving originality aside and
replacing it with the strangest creations generated by AIs. And that was when I
felt it for the first time. It was horrible. I was allowing AI to correct my
texts recklessly, without considering my humanity, my mistakes, my existential
authenticity. I was selling my soul.

I decided to stop using it so frequently, afraid that I would become just
another lazy person with an atrophied brain.

But then, one beautiful day, I was listening to a song on Spotify — metrically
perfect — and I felt that urge to vomit again. The song was pure AI. It was
synthetic. Fake emotions, fake feelings. That was when I fully understood the
dead internet theory, the rise of absolutely synthetic content, and intellectual
forgery.

I felt sad because I felt manipulated.

So I began a silent battle in search of soul in everything. A search for
originality led me to everything made by hand, one search leading to another.
And I found wonderful things along the way: a kind of resistance formed by
visionaries who knew this future would come.

I found the creators of souls. Of real feelings. Of beauty.

And considering that this will be the most precious good in a few years, for
now, I am satisfied.


< the skull