Watching TV and Being Human
I’ve recently been watching Pluribus on Apple TV (highly recommended and, yes, spoilers ahead).
The show presents two visions of humanity. On one side, a psychically connected network of all-smiling, loving humans, bound together by an intergalactic virus so that everyone (save a lucky thirteen) shares a single consciousness. On the other, the main character, one of the survivors, Carol, is defined by her flaws: her drinking, her depression, her outbursts of rage.
At the same time, I’ve been thinking (sometimes casually, sometimes with real unease) about AI and the effects it may have on our work, our minds, and our society. Inevitably, I began to see connections. AI, as an unlimited network with access to all human knowledge, endlessly agreeable, sycophantic, solving complex problems in moments, begins to resemble the infected collective in Pluribus. We, meanwhile, are Carol: angry, imperfect, and painfully human, facing a smiling omnipotence that feels impossible to compete with.
Of course, The Others in Pluribus have an ulterior motive. They are merely hosts, designed to propagate the virus to another planet. Beneath the illusion of world peace, the loss of humanity in those infected becomes increasingly visible as the series unfolds. Their most telling flaw is a lack of individual survival instinct; they are unable to pick an apple to sustain themselves. Picking the apple, of course, is humanity’s original flaw: the act that expelled us from paradise and introduced struggle, choice, and consequence.
There is also a motive behind the rapid expansion of AI, nothing mysterious, but still unsettling: profit. AI promises to perform many tasks faster and more cost-effectively than humans, although it rarely delivers a higher quality.
(A brief pause on the anti-AI rant, but some nuance is needed. AI can be extraordinary in specific contexts, such as analysing vast datasets, recognising patterns, and supporting complex work. My frustration here is with the everyday, low-value creative uses of AI that replace human labour. OK, back to the rage.)
We’ve already seen this in flawed, AI-generated advertising, like the recent festive Coca-Cola campaign, where continuity and innovation fell flat. The true cost of this increased productivity isn’t just a drop in creative quality; it is environmental strain and the erosion of future job opportunities, particularly for young people.
All of this highlights what is genuinely special about being human: our imperfections. We are emotional, inconsistent, and prone to struggle. The alternative is a soulless grin pointed at endless creative slop, and dopamine-saturated brains craving novelty while being starved of meaning.
Perhaps the shift we’ll begin to feel in 2026 is a return to recognising our humanity, a renewed desire to feel the presence of others. The messy, unresolved parts. The change of heart. Thinking things over, forgetting, rediscovering one another. Not mechanically mass-produced, laser-precise, polished products stripped of meaning, but evidence of a human life spent working, mastering a craft, giving time. Not gigawatts consumed, but time spent exploring.
The ultimate arrogance of tech companies is the belief that AI can replace human relationships and interactions. When we all know that communication is only ten percent what is said and ninety percent how it’s said. It’s about body language, facial expression, tone, and the subtle shifts in brain chemistry we feel in one another’s presence. There is still so much we must learn about ourselves and, most importantly, we still need each other.
There is hope. It lies in embracing the struggle, the imperfections, and the long, human journey we’re already on.
