The Second Brain (yeah, the one with ai)
The Second Brain
I have heard this expression twice in a week: the Second Brain. In each case someone was explaining how they were training ai to become their āagent.ā They would feed everything about themselves into this supposed Second Brain, from emails, calendars, notes, pictures, all forms of written (and spoken) communication. This way, the agent could be their Second Brain and respond like them, plan like them, in essence be them. When I asked why they put their own digital security and sense of self at risk, the answer was simply for efficiency and time saving. More questions arose—that I kept to myself:
- what would you do with all that newfound time?
- would the human connection, that thing you used to strive for, matter anymore?
- if there is a Second Brain, do I still need you and your First Brain?
Although I canāt understand this, I could at least give it some credence if the owner of the First Brain used their time to be creative, to explore, to expand their horizons in the real world. But no. The owners of the First Brain further refine the Second Brain! And the results are downright horrifying:
- they become more and more isolated
- they forget how to do basic, quotidian tasks
- they start to sound like everyone else (or like everyoneās Second Brain)
- they lose the ability to think creatively, always relying on the Second Brain at every turn for every single decision
I was at an event for work, and one of the team-building activities was inventing a cocktail. There was an assortment of liquors, ingredients, fruits, everything one would ever need to conjure up a bespoke drink. Before the emcee even finished reading the rules, EVERY SINGLE PARTICIPANT was glued to the phone, prompting cocktail names, combinations, flavour profiles! I lost my mind. When I asked my team to put down the phones and just āthink about it for 30 secondsā the blank stares I drew were gobsmacking. The collective First Brains—wizened, shrunken, atrophied from lack of use—all went silent. It was a long 30 seconds. It was an eternity. Eventually the phones lit back up and the Second Brains took over. Had there been a power failure or internet outage, they may have stared at one another for who-knows-how-long, refusing to create. I could only shake my head—containing my First Brain, the only one I have—in dismay. I made my suggestions (as in MINE) but in the end, some ai-slop-regurgitation made the cut. Oh well... I tasted our drink (it wasnāt that great), the other competitorsā (equally lacklustre), settled on a G&T I poured myself before retiring with the novel I was reading at the time.
The Second Brain truly is the end of individuality, the end of thought, the end of humanity. Please, for all that is good, focus on your First Brain.