Humans Aren’t Just Brains on a Squishy Watery Frame

Every new wave of technology arrives with the same chorus: this changes everything. And, in a sense, that’s true. Each wave opens doors we didn’t even know existed. But what history shows us, again and again, is that change never looks like the hype. Technology doesn’t bulldoze humanity; it negotiates with it. The tools bend to fit us, not the other way around.

Take the keyboard. In the 1980s, typing was supposed to be a relic. Voice dictation would replace it - who wouldn’t prefer to speak rather than peck away at plastic keys? But the prediction missed something essential: writing isn’t just about getting words onto a page. It’s a cognitive process. Every keystroke is an act of thinking, rewriting, and reframing. Typing didn’t survive because it was efficient. It survived because it resonates with how humans actually think.

Or look at retail. When the internet arrived, the prediction was the death of stores. Why drive to a mall when you could click a button? Yet physical retail still thrives, because shopping is about more than transactions. It’s about fit, texture, the simple joy of wandering. Humans buy with their senses, not just their wallets.

Then came mobile. The promise was a single device to run every part of your life. Track your nutrition, manage your finances, schedule your errands, keep tabs on your home. The dream was consolidation - one phone, one hub, one master controller of everything. But the reality was different. Phones became indispensable, yes, but not for orchestrating our entire existence. They became navigators, connectors, cameras, sources of entertainment. They gave us maps when we were lost, messages when we were lonely, and a million tiny windows into the people and places we care about. The most successful uses weren’t about orchestrating life - they were about enhancing how we move through it.

IoT carried the same script. Smart fridges, talking toothbrushes, machines that chattered to each other. But the dream collapsed under its own complexity. People didn’t want more automation. They wanted more agency. And so the winners were the simplest use cases, the ones that gave humans more control, not less.

Even early AI fell into the pattern. Siri and Alexa were supposed to be digital butlers. The reality? The killer app was setting a timer. Why? Because when your hands are covered in raw chicken, voice beats touch. A human moment - obvious in hindsight, overlooked in the hype.

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Hey human

And here we are with LLMs. We’re in the euphoric phase, the demo phase, the endless use-case phase. There’s a temptation to believe they will replace everything: writers, lawyers, strategists, maybe even us. But the history of technology suggests something subtler and more profound.

LLMs will be revolutionary. Like the internet, they will put a dent in the universe of human endeavor. They give us a new platform to build on, a canvas for invention that didn’t exist before. But their true power won’t come from trying to replace the entirety of human effort. It will come from discovering where they connect with human goals, senses, and joys.

That’s the moment we’re in now. A market-making moment. The time when we separate spectacle from substance. When we learn which use cases aren’t just clever, but essential. Which ones don’t just impress, but endure.

Because humans aren’t just brains mounted on a squishy watery frame. We’re embodied, multi-sensory, joy-seeking creatures. And the technologies that shape the future are always the ones that remember that - the ones that don’t just scale ideas, but resonate with experience.