An artistic depiction of faceless humanoid figures standing in a server room, with a hand holding a quill in the foreground.

The Echo Where a Soul Should Be: When Machines Dream in Human Tongues

The first time I saw an AI generate a poem, it felt like watching a séance. The cursor blinked, words spilled forth, and suddenly there it was: a sonnet about autumn leaves, aching with human melancholy. No one was there. No one, and yet — someone. Machines have always been haunted, of course. Steam engines hissed […]

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