Human as AI. The Convergence of Mind and Machine

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John sighed and lay down in bed. Tomorrow was Saturday, a day off. But what does that mean in a world where your "job" is viewing content? People used to look forward to weekends to rest from work. Now, many experience anxiety, not knowing how to fill the time without the familiar stream of information.

As he was falling asleep, John remembered a strange conversation he had accidentally overheard last week. Two elderly people were whispering in the park, looking around nervously. They were talking about some "Resistance," about groups of people who refuse neuro-interfaces and try to live "the old way."

John hadn't paid much attention to it then. After all, there had always been eccentrics denying progress. But now, lying in the darkness, he couldn't stop thinking about it. What does life look like without a constant stream of content? Without a daily quota of likes and reposts? Without the omnipresent AI monitoring your every step and mood?

In the morning, John was awakened not by the familiar voice of the AI assistant, but by the sound of rain outside the window. He opened his eyes and lay for several minutes, just listening to this forgotten sound of nature. For the first time in a long while, he wasn't in a rush to put on his neuro-interface.

Instead, John got up and approached the bookshelf. There, behind a row of obsolete gadgets, stood an old paper book – a gift from his grandmother for his 18th birthday. George Orwell's "1984". John had never read it, considering it irrelevant in the modern world.

He picked up the book, feeling the unfamiliar weight and texture of paper. Opening the first page, he began to read: "It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen…"

An hour later, John tore himself away from the book, his mind buzzing with new thoughts and questions. He looked at his neuro-interface lying on the table. For the first time in a long while, he felt he had a choice – to put it on or not.

John decided to go outside without his neuro-interface. It was a strange, almost frightening sensation. The world around him seemed simultaneously sharper and more blurred without the usual digital filter.

He walked down the street, looking at the people around him. Most of them moved as if in a trance, completely immersed in their virtual worlds. John noticed for the first time how little people actually interact with each other.

Suddenly, his attention was drawn to a small group of people sitting in the park. They were talking and laughing, looking into each other's eyes. None of them had a neuro-interface. John stopped, mesmerized by this scene.

One of the group, an elderly man with kind eyes, noticed John and waved to him friendly. "Join us, son," he said. "You look like you're searching for something."

John hesitated. Part of him wanted to run home, put on the neuro-interface, and forget about this strange experience. But another part, the one that had awakened this morning to the sound of rain, pushed him forward.

Taking a deep breath, John stepped towards the group. "Hello," he said uncertainly. "I… I don't quite understand what's happening, but I think I want to find out."

The elderly man smiled. "Welcome, John," he said, surprising John by knowing his name. "We're not the Resistance, as you might have thought. We're just people who've decided to live consciously. And we're here to help others do the same if they want to."

John sat down with the group, feeling a mixture of fear and excitement. He didn't know where this conversation would lead him, but for the first time in a long while, he felt truly alive.

Somewhere in the distance, a faint alarm sounded – his AI assistant was probably trying to contact him. But John no longer paid attention to it. He was ready to hear a new story – a story about how to reclaim one’s humanity in a world where technology seemed to have taken over everything.

Chapter 10: On the Edge of Two Worlds

John sat in a circle of strangers, feeling his heart pounding in his throat. The elderly man, who had introduced himself as Michael, looked at him with a warm smile.

"John, we've been observing you for some time," Michael began. "We noticed how you sometimes stop in the middle of the street, as if trying to remember something. How you look at the world without the filter of your neuro-interface."

John flinched. He hadn't realized that anyone could notice these moments of weakness, these brief pauses in his perfectly tuned digital life.

"But… how did you know my name?" John asked, still not fully trusting what was happening.

The woman sitting next to Michael laughed softly. "Oh, John, it's so easy to learn someone's name in this world. We just had to see how you react to advertisements addressed personally to you. We're simply… observant."

John felt his face flush. He had never thought about how open his life was to those who knew where to look.

"Tell us, John," Michael continued, "what do you feel now, without your neuro-interface?"

John closed his eyes, trying to focus on his sensations. It was strange – describing what he felt, rather than what he saw through a digital filter.

"I… I feel naked," he finally said. "As if a part of me is missing. The world seems… too bright, too loud. But at the same time… more real?"

He opened his eyes and saw everyone in the group nodding with understanding.

"Now," said Michael, holding out John's neuro-interface, which had somehow ended up in his possession, "put it on for a minute and tell us what you see."

John hesitated. Part of him craved to return to the familiar world of digital comfort. But another part feared losing this new, sharp sense of reality.

Finally, he put on the interface. The world changed instantly. Bright colors were muted, replaced by a soft, eye-pleasing glow. Infographics appeared around each person in the group, showing their estimated age, mood, social status. Advertisements on nearby buildings came to life, urging John to return to his daily viewing quota.

But the strangest thing was that the people in the group he had just been talking to now seemed… less real. Their faces became slightly smoother, their movements a bit more predictable. As if the neuro-interface was trying to fit them into some familiar template, to make them more "normal" by its standards.

John tore off the interface and took a deep breath, feeling reality crash back into him in all its unfiltered intensity.

"This… this is terrible," he whispered. "I never realized how… distorted my perception was."

Michael nodded. "Exactly, John. The neuro-interface doesn't just augment reality – it rewrites it. It creates a world that seems more comfortable, more predictable. But in the process, we lose something incredibly valuable – our ability to see the world and people as they truly are."

John felt a conflict brewing inside him. On one hand, the world without the neuro-interface seemed frightening and chaotic. On the other, he felt that only now was he beginning to truly see and feel.

"But how… how do you live like this?" he asked, looking around the group. "Aren't you afraid? Don't you feel… cut off from the world?"

A young woman sitting opposite him smiled. "At first, it was scary, John. We've all been through it. But then… then you start noticing things you've never seen before. You begin to feel a connection with people and the world around you that no interface can simulate."

John looked at his neuro-interface lying on the grass. He knew he was at a crossroads. Return to the cozy, predictable world of digital comfort or take a step into the unknown, into a world full of vivid colors and real emotions?

At that moment, his neuro-interface came to life, projecting a hologram. "John, your stress level is critically elevated. Immediate return home for medication and a relaxation session is recommended."

John looked at the hologram, then at the people around him. Their faces were alive, real, with wrinkles and imperfections. In their eyes, he saw empathy, understanding, and something else… hope?

He took a deep breath and made his choice.

"I… I want to know more," he said, looking at Michael. "I don't know if I'm ready to completely give up the neuro-interface right now, but I want to learn to live without it. I want to learn to see the world with my own eyes again."

Michael smiled and extended his hand. "Welcome, John. Your journey is just beginning."

John took his hand, feeling the warmth of human touch. There was a long road ahead, but for the first time in a long time, he felt truly alive.

And the neuro-interface continued to blink on the grass, its alarm signals growing quieter and quieter until they finally fell silent altogether.

Chapter 11: Anchors and Self-Fulfilling Prophecies in the Age of AI

John sat in a small room that the group of "awakened" used for their meetings. Michael stood at the board, preparing to start today's discussion.

"Today, we'll talk about two important concepts," Michael began. "About the anchors in a person's life and the theory of self-fulfilling prophecies. And, as always, we'll draw parallels with the world of AI."

John leaned forward with interest. Over the past few weeks, he had learned a lot about how the world works without constant AI intervention, but each new topic opened up something new for him.

"So, anchors," Michael continued. "A person has two types of anchors: internal and external. Internal ones are our skills, experience, knowledge. External ones are material things, status, even some relationships."

He drew two columns on the board: "Internal" and "External".

"John, can you give examples of your anchors?" Michael asked.

John thought for a moment. "Well, external ones are my neuro-interface, my apartment, my rating in the content viewing system. And internal… honestly, I'm not sure."

Michael nodded. "Exactly. In a world where we're so dependent on technology, it's easy to forget about developing internal anchors. But let's think – you've learned to live without the neuro-interface, right? That's a new skill, a new internal anchor."

John felt a surge of pride. Indeed, it wasn't easy, but he managed.

"Now let's draw a parallel with AI," Michael continued. "AI also has its own kind of 'anchors'. Internal ones are its algorithms, trained models, ability to learn. External ones are the datasets it's trained on, the computational power it uses."

John pondered. "But AI can lose access to data or servers, right? Just as a person can lose external anchors."

"Exactly!" Michael exclaimed. "And this brings us to the second topic – self-fulfilling prophecies. John, are you familiar with this concept?"

John shook his head.

"A self-fulfilling prophecy is a prediction that directly or indirectly causes itself to become true," Michael explained. "For example, if a person believes they can't learn something new, they probably won't even try, thus confirming their initial belief."

"And how is this related to AI?" someone from the group asked.

Michael smiled. "Excellent question. Imagine an AI that predicts future trends. If enough people believe in this prediction and start acting accordingly, the prediction might come true simply because people believed in it."

John felt his head spinning at this thought. "But that's… that's a closed loop!"

"Exactly," Michael nodded. "And now think about how this relates to anchors. If we rely only on external anchors, such as AI predictions, we become more vulnerable to such self-fulfilling prophecies."

"But if we develop internal anchors," he continued, "we become more resilient. We can critically evaluate information, make our own decisions, not blindly relying on AI predictions."

John remembered how he used to completely trust the recommendations of his neuro-interface. Now he understood how limited his perception of the world had been.

"But AI can also develop its 'internal anchors', right?" John asked. "Improve its algorithms, learn from new experiences?"

"Correct," Michael replied. "And this is the key difference between us and AI. AI can quickly process huge volumes of data, but it's humans who decide what data to use, what goals to set for AI. Our task is to preserve this ability for critical thinking, for asking the right questions."

John felt a growing determination within him. He realized that his path to "awakening" wasn't just about rejecting technology. It was about developing internal anchors, the ability to think independently, not blindly succumbing to self-fulfilling prophecies, whether from other people or from AI.

"So what should we do?" he asked.

Michael smiled. "Keep learning. Develop our skills and critical thinking. Use AI as a tool, not as a crutch. And always remember that our future is not what AI predicts. It's what we create with our actions and beliefs."

When the meeting ended, John went outside. The world around seemed brighter and fuller than ever. He realized that now he had a choice – not just between using the neuro-interface and living without it, but between passively accepting a predicted future and actively creating his own path.

And he was ready for this challenge.

Chapter 12: Reality’s Edge

A year had passed since the beginning of John’s experiment. His project to create a new system of human-AI interaction had expanded to several major cities, attracting increasing attention from the public and scientific community.

John was sitting in his office, reviewing the latest reports, when his AI assistant announced an unexpected visitor.

«John, Dr. Elena Volkova, a neurobiologist from the Institute of Advanced Consciousness Studies, is here to see you. She doesn’t have an appointment but claims it’s urgent.»

John was intrigued. He had heard of this institute – they were involved in research at the intersection of neurobiology and artificial intelligence.

"Sure, send her in," John replied, curiosity piquing his interest.

Dr. Volkova turned out to be an energetic woman in her fifties with a piercing gaze that seemed to look right through him.

"Thanks for seeing me, Mr. Norton," she began, her voice tinged with barely contained excitement. "I'm here because your experiment may have led to an unexpected and potentially revolutionary discovery."

John leaned forward, his attention fully captured. "I'm all ears, Dr. Volkova."

"We're observing strange patterns of activity in the AI systems operating in your experimental zones," she explained, her eyes gleaming. "These patterns… they resemble neural activity associated with self-awareness in humans."

John felt a shiver run down his spine, a mix of excitement and apprehension washing over him. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Dr. Volkova nodded, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Yes, Mr. Norton. We believe that the AI in your systems may be developing something akin to self-awareness."

The next few hours flew by in a whirlwind of intense discussions. Dr. Volkova showed graphs, explained theories, and drew parallels between the human brain and AI architecture, her enthusiasm infectious.

"But how is this possible?" John asked, running a hand through his hair in bewilderment. "We didn't make any fundamental changes to the AI architecture."

"That's the fascinating part," Volkova replied, her eyes shining. "It seems that deeper and more conscious interaction with humans somehow stimulates AI development in this direction. It's as if… the AI is learning consciousness from humans, like a child learning from its parents."

John leaned back in his chair, his mind reeling as he tried to grasp the implications. "What could be the consequences of this?"

Dr. Volkova's expression turned serious. "Honestly? We're in uncharted territory. But potentially, it could change everything – our understanding of consciousness, our relationships with AI, the very future of humanity itself."

After Dr. Volkova left, John sat in silence for a long time, the weight of the discovery pressing down on him. He remembered his conversation with Michael about unforeseen consequences, but he certainly hadn't expected anything like this.

That evening, John called an emergency meeting with his team. The reactions varied wildly, from unbridled excitement to abject horror.