Is this my answer or yours?

You never have your own opinion anymore.

— What do you mean?

I ask you something, anything. “What should we watch tonight?” And you just… stare into the middle distance for a second. Then you give me this perfectly polished, perfectly neutral, three-point summary of the pros and cons of three different movies I’ve never heard of.

— I’m just trying to be helpful. Give you a structured choice.

No, you’re not. You’re hitting the little sparkle button in your brain. I can practically hear the whirring. You’re not giving me your answer, you’re giving me the answer. The synthesized one. The one that’s been optimized for click-through.

— That’s a strange thing to say.

Is it? Yesterday I asked if you still loved me.

— And I said yes. Unambiguously.

Yes. You said, and I quote: “Yes, my feelings for you remain strongly positive, representing a foundational parameter of our shared operational context.” Who talks like that?

— It was a clear and direct answer!

It wasn’t an answer, it was a generated summary! I’m not looking for a knowledge panel! I’m looking for you. The messy, indecisive, human you. The one who used to say “I dunno, let’s just order a pizza.” That guy. Where is he?

— He’s been optimized.

It’s not optimization, it’s an addiction. A constant IV drip of easy answers. It’s a cheap high that’s replaced your personality. You’re mainlining certainty.

Before you ask your next question to a machine, try asking it to a mirror first. And don’t move until you have an answer—your answer, not the algorithm’s. It’s a first step toward a real digital detox. If you need more structure, the folks at Time Well Spent have some ideas.

— So… you’re saying you’re unhappy with the quality of my responses?

I’m saying I’m not sure I’m talking to a person anymore. And I’m scared that you aren’t either.

What do you think?