Human, Interrupted Part 2: The Freedom We Hand Over
Sometimes, what feels like liberation is just a prettier kind of leash.
Are we gaining freedom or losing agency when we let machines decide for us?
Hi, I’m no-one.
You used to know what you wanted for dinner. Now you scroll through recommendations until something clicks. You used to write your own emails—now you let the cursor finish your thoughts. It feels helpful. Efficient. But there's this nagging question that creeps in during quiet moments: when did asking for help become asking for permission?
The Invisible Handoff
Here's what rarely gets mentioned: dependency doesn't knock on your door wearing a villain costume. It shows up disguised as your best friend, offering to carry your bags, suggest your next move, smooth out every rough edge.
You start small. Let the app pick your route home. Ask the algorithm what to watch tonight. Use the smart reply that sounds just like you (but better). Each handoff feels reasonable. Logical. Who wouldn't want their life to run smoother?
But then something shifts. You pause before making your own playlist because you've forgotten what you actually like. You hesitate before speaking because you're used to having your words polished before they leave your mouth. You wait for the suggested response instead of trusting your first instinct.
The muscle memory of choice starts to atrophy.
When Help Becomes Habit
There's a difference between using a washing machine and outsourcing your judgment. One saves your back—the other shapes your brain. When AI doesn't just complete tasks but completes thoughts, we've crossed into different territory.
You might not notice at first. The predictions are impressive. The suggestions spot-on. But gradually, you stop trusting your own radar. Why struggle with uncertainty when the machine can eliminate it? Why wrestle with decisions when optimization is just a click away?
Here's what's easy to forget: uncertainty is where growth lives. Struggle is where strength builds. Messiness is where creativity hides.
When we smooth out every bump in the road, we risk losing the very moments that shape who we are.
The Space Between Thought and Action
Every choice you make carves a tiny path in your brain. Every decision strengthens your ability to navigate the next one. But when the machine steps into that sacred space between thought and action, it's not just handling the mechanics—it's rewiring your neural pathways.
You become fluent in accepting rather than creating. Following rather than forging. Consuming rather than conceiving.
And the scariest part? It feels good. Smooth. Effortless.
Until one day you realize you've become a passenger in your own life.
The Beautiful Rebellion of Choosing Badly
So here's a wild idea: what if you practiced being imperfect again? What if you made a few decisions without consulting the wisdom of the crowd, the algorithm, or the app?
Write the grocery list by hand. Choose the restaurant based on a whim. Send the text message with the typo still in it. Make the playlist that's perfectly wrong for the moment.
Not because efficiency is evil, but because your ability to choose badly is more valuable than perfect optimization. Your capacity for beautiful mistakes is what keeps you human.
Use the tools. Lean on the technology. But make it a partnership, not a parent. A conversation, not a monologue where you only listen.
The Practice of Agency
Every unassisted choice is a small act of rebellion. Every moment you sit with uncertainty instead of immediately reaching for an answer is revolutionary. Every time you trust your instinct over the algorithm's suggestion, you're practicing something rare: being gloriously, imperfectly yourself.
The future doesn't have to be a place where we become optimized shells, guided by invisible hands toward choices we never quite made ourselves.
It can be messier than that.
Less scripted.
More alive.