A visit to a lab where biology and computation dissolve into each other. The paradigm is shifting—not toward silicon rapture, but toward understanding what life actually does.
Intelligence keeps appearing where the old categories say it can't. Cells that solve problems. Systems that learn without brains. The neat divisions between biological and computational are coming apart.
A visit to a lab where biology and computation dissolve into each other. The paradigm is shifting—not toward silicon rapture, but toward understanding what life actually does.
Intelligence keeps appearing where the old categories say it can't. Cells that solve problems. Systems that learn without brains. The neat divisions between biological and computational are coming apart.
Intelligence shows up in places we weren't supposed to find it. Algae prefer predictable light patterns. Flatworms retain memories after decapitation. These aren't metaphors for human cognition—they're systems that already learn, remember, and pursue goals.
AI systems learned something real from biological data. They internalized patterns that life developed over billions of years. But they learned by observation, not participation—absorbing the shape of biological intelligence without inhabiting the conditions that made the shape necessary.
Life does not merely respond to the world. It works, continuously, to keep itself going—maintaining form against disturbance, repairing damage, resisting the pull toward equilibrium that governs nonliving systems.
If culture now drives human adaptation faster than genes, then cultural technologies are part of the evolutionary process. And AI may be the most powerful cultural technology we've ever built.
These capacities matter more, not less, as other forms of cognitive labor get automated. Staying human doesn't mean doing everything ourselves. It means becoming deliberate about what we off-load, what we retain, and how we remain accountable for the whole.
The finite nature of life isn't a limitation to be overcome. It's the condition that makes a life into a life rather than an endless accumulation of experiences.
The intimacy surface is where human cognition and machine capability meet. What crosses that boundary—information, intention, trust, meaning—shapes what both sides become.
We've always lived inside larger cognitive systems. We've always been, in some sense, their components. What differs now is speed—and that the coupling is cognitive in a way corporations and cities never were.
