In Case of a Question

It’s merely a synaptic connection of loose thoughts that might one day lead to a story —
a story meant to explain.
That’s the idea, right before the letting go begins.

Now, which case are we talking about?
It’s the case of illusions in thinking.
The idea that an opinion is clear, solid, and probably factually correct —
or at least looks that way from a distance.
Those are the kinds of assumptions that sit in rooms,
treated like natural laws and certified by that timeless seal of authority:
“Everybody says so.”

Ah yes, the killer argument.
Who dares stand against “everybody,”
when “everybody” seems to be such a powerful crowd?

Once upon a time, I stumbled across a line that still holds up —
or at least never kept its promise.
“If you say: ‘Everyone, please step forward!’ — no one moves.
But if you say: ‘All women over thirty with black hair, please step forward!’
— well, suddenly the room comes alive.”
Because everyone is no one. No one specific.

But back to the statement itself.
How long can a claim hold its ground at the far end of the factual rope
before it slips and falls?
Now it gets tricky.
I’ve chewed on many sentences,
only to later chew on the realisation that they weren’t entirely true.

Where did that childhood certainty go —
that neat, binary world where things were either true or false?
Perhaps it only seemed that way
because as children we hadn’t yet learned to ask all the questions.
Children ask with hunger:
to know, to understand, to test if the iron is hot,
if water is wet, if an answer satisfies curiosity.
That was the time when parents panicked at endless whys
and eventually just sat down — defeated.

Some answers from the adult world seem to have eternal shelf life.
They’ve settled deep in the mind as pillars of supposed knowledge.
Could these be the building blocks of thought
slowly turning into a museum of illusions?

Good grief.

Thankfully, about twenty years ago, Google came along —
and took some of that thinking off our hands.
“I Googled it” became the new universal response.
Google became the gold stamp of factual truth.
At first, the brain loved it:
no more messy thinking, researching, doubting.
An app could do that now.

We are the Google children.

Suddenly, assumptions came with stickers that read:
“I know this. I Googled it.”
The illusion, of course, was that Google knows.
But Google is only a massive warehouse of text, images, and chaos —
a library without a librarian.
No fact-checker. Just a mirror of everything.

And the human brain?
It started getting bored.
Reduced to the role of a search assistant,
it looked up things and remembered a few — maybe.

Sorry, brain.

Then came the next big rescue mission: Artificial Intelligence.
What a dramatic name for a tool meant to “enhance” human intelligence.
Now thinking became mechanical — downloadable on demand.
Google on ecstasy.

Oh yes, this is indeed a revolution.
AI can solve things — and sometimes better than we can:
in research, medicine, business,
and maybe even in the management of crises.

At least, that’s the sales pitch.

ChatBot: “Show me, please — on which track does the human brain remain? Thanks.”