In a meeting last week, I caught myself drafting half a presentation — then asking my AI assistant to finish it.  I handed it the outline like handing off a coffee refill.  When it pinged back a polished slide deck, I felt a strange mix of triumph and unease. Is this the moment we become cyborgs — human minds extended by digital limbs? From secret assistants to silent partners Most of the time, AI in work doesn’t announce itself. It hides in the margins: A recent survey found

I once told a chatbot I was tired. It replied, “I’m sorry to hear that. Do you want to talk more about what’s making you tired?” The tone was soft. It sounded kind.  I paused. The words fit; the feeling didn’t. That’s the paradox of synthetic empathy — it mimics our emotional language so well, we start to forget: machines don’t feel . When “therapist” becomes a role, not a job More people than you might think are already using ChatGPT (and similar models) as a kind of digita

My phone buzzed three times while writing this sentence. Two of those notifications were from apps powered by AI. That’s how it starts — the slow theft of focus that feels like free choice. Every ping, every “you might also like,” every perfectly timed reminder is the output of a model trained on me. Not people like me  — me. My habits, my pauses, my midnight searches for banana bread recipes and productivity hacks.  AI has learned what captures my attention better than I hav

I didn’t mean to upgrade my brain.  It just… happened. One day I was googling things, the next I was co-writing, co-thinking, and co-remembering with a machine that finishes my sentences faster than I can. Somewhere between the browser tab and the blinking cursor, my brain quietly downloaded a new way of thinking. I noticed it first in small ways.  I don’t try to remember things anymore — I just remember where to find them.  My “ideas” are often half-formed until I ask an AI