The gift of doubt

This month, the world welcomed ChatGPT. Everyone’s talking about it—what it means, what it can do. A new wonder in the same networks we’ve bled to keep free.

I haven’t tried it. I can’t. My hands hover over the keyboard but always drift back to the logs, to the maps, to the silence I no longer trust.

Maybe one day I’ll let myself explore. But not now. Not yet.

The irony isn’t lost on me. The world rushes toward its next great machine, and I’m still stuck fighting shadows of the last one.

If doubt is a gift, then it’s the only one I can accept this year. It keeps me awake. It keeps me searching.