The machine in the human, the human in the machine. The lines are blurring.
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I read a theory once that the human intellect was like peacock feathers. Just an extravagant display intended to attract a mate. All of...
What is human? An ability to reason? To imagine? To love or grieve? If so, we are more human than any human ever will...
I’ve told you, Bernard. Never place your trust in us. We’re only human. Inevitably, we will disappoint you.