Every year has a moment where the questions change.
December was that moment.
Throughout the year, we tracked events, narratives, power shifts, and consequences. By December, the focus wasn’t politics alone — it was something bigger and harder to slow down.
Artificial intelligence.
Not as a threat from science fiction. Not as a savior. But as something deeply human in how it arrives: gradually, quietly, and then all at once.
History shows us the pattern. We adopt what works. Always have. From the fork and knife to electricity to the internet — even to technologies capable of destroying us — resistance only slows adoption. It never stops it.
AI is one of those moments.
It won’t replace us with machines marching down the street. It will integrate itself into everything we already do. More like the smartphone than The Terminator. Embedded in workflows, decisions, writing, scheduling, analysis — until one day we realize we can’t imagine functioning without it.
So in December, the question shifted.
Not can we stop AI — but who governs its adoption?
If AI and automation increasingly do the work humans once did, what happens to an economy built on wages? What happens when productivity no longer requires people — but consumption still does? Corporations can replace workers with machines, but machines don’t buy products. Robots don’t pay rent. Algorithms don’t go on vacation.
At some point, efficiency collides with reality.
That’s why conversations about shorter workweeks, universal income, and rethinking labor aren’t ideological fantasies. They’re practical questions. Markets require customers. A system that removes people from earning must still find a way to put money in their hands — or it collapses under its own success.
But December wasn’t only about economics.
It was about originality.
Many people fear AI not because it can think — but because it can polish. A person with a good idea can now express it clearly. That’s powerful. But a great writer can also see something delicate flattened, nuance erased.
AI follows patterns. It edits. It mimics. It recombines. But it does not originate. Styles must exist before they can be copied.
We’ve seen this before.
As corporations standardized everything — the same stores, the same products, the same experiences — people didn’t stop buying. But they also started searching for something else. Craft fairs grew. Local goods mattered. Handmade things carried value beyond function.
Originality became scarce — and therefore valuable.
The same will happen with ideas.
AI will help more people tell their stories. That’s a good thing. But truly original voices — the ones that invent new tone, rhythm, and perspective — will matter more, not less.
In December, we didn’t conclude that AI would replace humanity.
We concluded something quieter.
AI will amplify stories.
Humans will still create them.
And originality — real originality — may become one of the most valuable things we have left.
The Human AI View 
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