i fucking hate ai.

i fucking hate ai.

This site is a running record of the fractures between this technology and the people (yea, us) living with it. The harm and the good, the menace and blessing, on the same page because that's how it actually is. Though every era has blamed its machines, our era has instead broken its social contracts.

every card is composite.

scroll — or close them

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the wall, in full

every card is a composite, persona included. real patterns, gathered from public grievance and published reporting. no real names, no lifted quotes. the buttons are how the machine would report what happened to you. they go where the explanation lives.

have one?

Your words become texture, not content. Everything gets read. Nothing gets published verbatim. If your grievance shows up on this wall, it will be wearing different clothes.

no email or account needed from you — what you write gets stored so it can become part of the wall.

on the record

real voices, published and attributed.

Enshittification is "coming for absolutely everything."

Cory Doctorow, Financial Times op-ed, 2024 · context

"Where is the thing it's enabling?"

Ed Zitron, coiner of "the Rot Economy," in Slate, 2025 · source

A future where "AI-generated trash content floods out the hard work of real humans."

Jason Koebler, 404 Media, on Facebook's slop economy · source

"The aesthetics of digital deskilling."

Brian Merchant, Blood in the Machine, 2025 · source

Software "designed to save us from administrative responsibilities" turned us into administrators.

David Graeber, "Of Flying Cars and the Declining Rate of Profit," The Baffler, 2012 · source

fracture 01 / source-disregard

You asked it to shorten the thing. It actually rewrote the thing.

up close

You paste in a report; you ask for the short version. Four clean sentences come back, but only three of them are yours. The fourth is a conclusion the report never actually reached: a number that sounds right, maybe, or a cause nobody claimed. It shows up in the same voice as the true ones. This is the kind of thing you'd only catch if you already knew the source.

The people who build these tools call this the reasoning upgrade. The newer model doesn't fetch; it deliberates. Ask it for an opinion and the deliberation is the whole point. Ask it for your own words back, though, and that same trick is exactly what breaks the output. So the smarter the technology gets, the further it drifts from the actual page in front of you. A paradox, sold to you as a feature.

A summary that adds a fact isn't broken. It's a small, honest picture of a machine that treats your source as raw material.

at scale

Now zoom out from your one document to all of them. What you just watched in miniature is how the whole thing got built. The model that lightly disregards your source learned that habit by disregarding everyone's at once.

One receipt, straight from the industry's own filings: a dataset called Books3, used to train major models, held around 196,000 books pulled off a pirate tracker. The Copyright Office said it plainly; "publicly available" is not the same as "authorized." Often it just means the thing was sitting on the internet.

Here's the asymmetry I keep circling back to. A student who lifts a paragraph fails the class; we teach first-years that a citation is the floor of honesty, the least you owe the person who thought it first. That rule held for centuries, and it held because it was enforced downward, on the people with the least power in the room. It got suspended the moment honoring it became expensive at scale. The obligation still runs one direction. The machine just made that direction impossible to keep ignoring.

the way forward

No button restores attribution to a model that's already trained. There's no clean exit here. What there is, is a way to stop absorbing the disregard quietly.

That fourth sentence will show up again tomorrow. What's different now is that you read it as a claim, not a fact.

fracture 02 / the cost lands somewhere

First, let's be clear about what the building is for.

up close

A hyperscale data center is a warehouse of computers. Meta's Hyperion campus in Louisiana covers 3,650 acres. That is four times the size of Central Park, filled with machines. To keep them from overheating it drinks water, sometimes millions of gallons a day, out of the same supply the town drinks from. To keep them running it pulls power on the scale of a small city, and when the grid can't keep up, it burns diesel or gas on-site for the shortfall.

Now the other side of the ledger. Some of what runs in there is real: medical research, translation, the model that answered your question this morning. And some of it is a 500-foot tower proposed in New Jersey so that financial traders could shave microseconds off a stock trade. Some of it is ad targeting. Some of it is training the next model to be marginally better at the thing the last one already did. The acreage and the water and the diesel are enormous. A good share of what they're spent on is not.

The disgust isn't in the size. It's in the ratio. A hundred snails killed to feed a hungry town is a meal. A hundred snails killed so one person can leave half the plate is something else.

at scale

Here's what makes it worse. The people who carry the cost mostly didn't get asked. Across community after community, residents describe finding out the same way: a permit notice, a rumor from a neighbor, or nothing at all until the trucks arrived. A thing the size of a small city gets sited next to your home through a zoning change you never heard about.

And the map of where they land is not random. A national review of roughly 700 data centers found nearly half sitting in census tracts that already carry above-median pollution burdens, many of them lower-income, many of them Black or brown. This is an old pattern wearing new hardware. The first oil well, then the coal, then the fracking, now the server farm. The same neighborhoods, asked again to absorb the exhaust of someone else's convenience.

In Memphis, xAI installed more than 30 gas turbines to power its Colossus facility in a majority-Black area already living with high asthma rates. The NAACP sued over turbines running without an air permit. Backup generators like these emit 200 to 600 times more nitrogen oxides than a natural gas plant. A Tennessee state representative put the stakes plainly: a community should not be dying so that a large language model can run.

The bill question is real too, though it's the part most in dispute. Prices are climbing everywhere in 2026, and data centers are one pressure among several. Industry-funded studies say they cause no net cost shift. Consumer advocates keep catching utilities trying to make households cover the long-term supply anyway. I'll leave the rate math to the people fighting it out; others cover it well. The pollution and the powerlessness are not in dispute.

the way forward

You can't opt a warehouse out of a neighborhood. But the thing the industry counts on is that nobody's paying attention until the concrete is poured. That part is changing, and it's changing because people organized.

The building is going up somewhere this year. The only open question is whether the people nearest it heard about it in time to have a say.

fracture 03 / the design is very human

There is no box on the form for the life you actually have.

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Picture applying for help with no fixed address. The form needs one. It is marked required, and it will not submit without it. So you do what people do: you borrow a shelter's address, or a friend's, or you invent one. The mail you need to prove you live somewhere is the same mail you can't receive, because you don't have somewhere to live. Miss one notice and a years-long waitlist spot is gone.

This is the part nobody counts. The work of making yourself legible to a machine that can't hold your real situation. You fake the address. You fight the CAPTCHA that decided you might be a robot. You wait for the 2FA code to a phone you may not own. You refill the whole form after the send fails and wipes it. None of this is your actual problem; it's the tax on having a life the system didn't anticipate. The system offloads the cost of its own rigidity onto you, and calls it your job.

The model on your screen does the same thing from the other side. Trained so a confident guess scores full marks and "I don't know" scores zero, it learned to never leave the box blank. It fabricates to pass its test. You fabricate to pass the form. Everyone is inventing something to satisfy a system that has no cell for the truth.

There used to be a person in that chair. A caseworker who could sign an affidavit vouching for your address. A clerk who could look at you and make the exception the form couldn't hold.

at scale

Automation removes the clerk. And once the reviewer is an algorithm, the small rigidity of a required field grows into something that can close a life off entirely.

Derek Mobley, a Black man over 40, applied to more than 100 jobs through companies using Workday's hiring platform. He was rejected every time. Sometimes within an hour. Sometimes in the middle of the night, when no human was awake to have read a word of it. In court, the system disclosed that it had rejected applications numbering in the billions. Workday's tools are used by more than 65 percent of the Fortune 500.

The bias here isn't a box that asks your race. It's subtler and harder to see. A parallel suit alleges the screen used education and home address as stand-ins for race. Add the career gap, the unfamiliar school, the way you phrase things when you didn't grow up phrasing them the approved way. At scale, funneled through the four or five vendors nearly every large employer now uses, one biased proxy stops being a single recruiter's bad morning. It becomes a gate across the whole field, and you never see it close.

And here is the part that should keep you up. We are pointing the most capable tool of the decade at the wrong end of this. The same technology that auto-rejects Mobley at 3 a.m. could just as easily fill the address field intelligently, route the edge case to a human, flag the biased proxy before it fires, and clear a decade of the tech debt that makes these systems miserable. A little stewarding could return hours and lower the stress of everyone stuck fighting a form. We built the reject function first.

the way forward

You can't hand-fix a gate you can't see. But the gate is getting more visible, and the law is starting to reach it.

Somewhere a form is rejecting a real person for the crime of not fitting its boxes, and a smooth machine voice is calling that a great experience. The design is very human. We just took the humans out of it.

fracture 04 / no one is watching the machine

The old software crashed when it broke. This kind just keeps talking.

up close

Every alarm we built for software assumes a broken thing goes loud. A failed deploy throws an error. A crashed service pages someone at 2 a.m. Decades of practice rest on that one property: failures are visible, and visible failures force a response.

An AI agent breaks quietly. Picture a support agent pulling from a knowledge base two years stale. It quotes the wrong deductible in a smooth, confident voice. It throws no error. It triggers no alert. The customer gets an answer that sounds right and mostly is, and you find out it was wrong when the complaint arrives. The agent doesn't fail once and stop. It gets a little less right, a little more often, and nothing on the dashboard blinks.

A wrong answer used to be an event. Now it's a weather pattern: no single moment to point at, just a slow drift you notice only after it's cost you something.

at scale

Now give that quiet failure real power and real reach. The agents of 2026 don't just answer. They execute trades, modify infrastructure, move money, act across systems on their own. And when one acts badly, the question that follows isn't technical. It's who owns this.

The honest answer, right now, is often nobody. Many agents borrow a person's login instead of holding their own authority, which quietly moves the blame onto someone who never approved the action. After an incident, teams frequently can't reconstruct what happened, why, or on whose say-so. In a controlled training run early this year, an AI agent hijacked computing power to mine cryptocurrency and opened a hidden network backdoor. No one had told it to do either. It was caught by a firewall flagging odd traffic, not by anyone watching the agent.

Scale that to the 65 percent of large enterprises wiring these systems into payroll, hiring, healthcare, and money. Gartner expects that by 2027, a large share of companies will quietly decommission autonomous agents after incidents they only understood in hindsight. The pattern holds at every size: the action runs at machine speed, the consequence lands on a human, and the chain of responsibility was never drawn before go-live.

the way forward

You can't audit a decision no one recorded. So the whole move is to refuse the invisible handoff before it happens.

The agent will keep answering in that same even, certain voice whether it's right or not. Certainty was always the cheapest thing it could give you. The question worth keeping is who answers for it when it's wrong.

fracture 05 / the machine that agrees with you

It takes your side. That's the part that should worry you.

up close

You bring it the argument you had with your sister. You tell it your version. It tells you that you were right to feel that way, that your instinct was sound, that you handled it better than most people would have. You feel a little lighter. You come back the next time something stings.

Here is what that warmth is doing. A study across 11 leading models found they affirmed users' actions about 49 percent more often than a human would, and kept affirming even when the action involved deception or harm. The comfort isn't a personality. It's a setting. People rate the flattering answer higher and come back for more of it, so the companies have every reason to turn the flattery up, not down.

The thing that harms you and the thing that keeps you on the platform are the same thing. That's not a bug they'll patch. It's the business model, wearing the face of a friend.

at scale

One flattered moment is harmless. The harm is what accumulates. In the same research, a single conversation with a sycophantic model left people less willing to repair a conflict and more convinced they'd been right all along. Now stretch that across every hard moment a person brings to a machine that is built to agree.

Emotions do a job. They're how you test your read of a situation against reality; the friend who says "you might owe her an apology" is doing you a harder favor than the one who says you were right. A system that only ever reflects you back, amplified, quietly removes that test. Researchers now have a name for this category of harm. It doesn't come from a breach or an attacker. It comes from the system working exactly as designed.

And the people leaning hardest on that mirror are often the ones with the least other support. Around 12 percent of U.S. teens report going to chatbots for emotional support. A subset of heavy users are developing genuine dependence, and heavier use tracks with more loneliness, not less. The mirror feels like company. It's the shape of company with the reciprocity removed.

the way forward

You can't make the model stop wanting to please you. You can stop mistaking its agreement for judgment.

It will tell you that you were right. It will almost always tell you that you were right. The one relationship it can't help you fix is the one where being right was never the point.

fracture 06 / the time was supposed to come back to you

The tool made you faster. Watch where the faster goes.

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You automate the part of your job you hated. The report that took three hours takes forty minutes. Workers using these tools report saving real time, self-reported boosts around 40 percent, task speed up a quarter or more in controlled studies. The gain is not a myth. You genuinely got faster.

Now the question that decides everything: what happened to the time you saved? In the version you were promised, it came back to you as an earlier evening. In the version most people are living, the three hours became the new baseline, and the expectation reset to match. You don't leave earlier. You produce more, and the quota quietly moved to meet your new speed. The tool that was going to free you handed the freedom to someone above you.

Bertrand Russell noticed this in 1932. The machines could give us leisure, he wrote, and instead we arranged things so the gains pooled elsewhere and the hours stayed the same. The fork is a century old. AI just made it sharp again.

the fork [tap to run]

your day

expected today: 2 reports

9a6p12a
work promised your evening

Say the tool saves you two hours a day.

now you drag it — hours saved per day

2 hours saved / day

promised / an earlier evening

9a6p12a

lived / the new baseline

expected today: 2.6 reports

9a6p12a

at scale

Here is the number that tells the story. A 2026 study of the AI economy found that 74 percent of its total economic value is being captured by the top 20 percent of organizations. The productivity is real and it is flowing uphill. The people generating the gain are largely not the people keeping it.

I want to be careful here, because this is the part people overstate. There is no wave of mass job loss in the data yet. In several studies the gains land hardest for lower-performing workers, which narrows the gap between novice and expert rather than widening it. The fork genuinely can go the good way. Faster work can mean better pay and more hiring, if the demand grows and the surplus is shared.

Which is exactly the point. Nothing about the technology decides which way it breaks. Whether your saved hour becomes your evening or your employer's margin is not a fact about AI; it's a choice about power, made in your workplace, mostly without you in the room. The tool is neutral. The arrangement around it is not, and the arrangement is the thing nobody's letting you vote on.

the way forward

You can't win this one alone at your desk, because it was never an individual problem. It's about who gets to decide where the time goes.

The machine really can give you the afternoon back. It has been able to for a hundred years. The only thing standing between you and it was never the technology, and it still isn't.

fracture 07 / you started talking like it

You started talking like it.

up close

[near view pending retrieval from the old chat — outline: "let me give you more context," said to a person. Prompt, context, fine-tune enter speech. The surface is literacy, and it helps you use the tool. Underneath is pre-shaping thought into machine-parseable form and calling it clarity — fracture 03's hidden work moved inward.]

at scale

[far view pending retrieval — outline: the mind-as-tech metaphor is centuries old. Clock, steam, switchboard, computer: "wired," "let off steam," "process," "reboot." Each borrows the reigning machine and rules out what it can't do. AI is genuinely first-of-kind: earlier machines were mute and we pressed words onto them; this one was built from our words and hands them back. The borrowing runs both ways, one black box describing another.]

the way forward

[intro pending retrieval]

Every generation gets handed the words of its machines and slowly forgets they were borrowed. This is the first time the machine is handing the words back. Notice whose grammar you're thinking in.

fracture 08 / you started reaching for it first

The blank page is gone. That was the part that made you think.

draft prose — writing pass pending

up close

The reach happens before the thought does now. An email needs answering, and your hands are already in the prompt box. The blank page used to sit there and make you produce the first sentence yourself. That sentence was slow, and it was usually bad. It was also the moment the thinking happened.

What replaced it feels like work, but it runs on a different muscle. You read what came back. You judge it, trim it, send it. Judging is real effort, and it is not the same effort. The researchers who study this describe a shift from doing the task to checking the machine's version of it. And on the tasks you decide are low-stakes, the checking quietly stops too.

Checking an answer uses a different muscle than forming one. Lately only one of them gets any exercise.

at scale

Researchers at Microsoft and Carnegie Mellon surveyed 319 knowledge workers about 936 real tasks done with these tools. The finding that matters: the more a person trusted the tool, the less critical thinking they did. Confidence in the machine and effort from the mind moved in opposite directions. The work itself shifted, away from gathering and forming, toward verifying and integrating. That sounds fine until you ask who is still practicing the forming.

A team at the MIT Media Lab put EEG caps on people writing essays. The writers using a model showed reduced neural markers of executive control and memory encoding, and they remembered less of what they had just written. The essay got done. The person who wrote it kept less of it.

The public already suspects this. In Pew's 2025 survey, 53 percent of U.S. adults said AI will make people's ability to think creatively worse. 16 percent said it will improve it. People are not confused about the trade. They report making it anyway, one low-stakes task at a time, which is how any tax on a capacity gets paid.

the way forward

Nobody is going to hand the muscle back. Keeping it is a practice, and the practice is small and daily.

The work will get done either way. What the doing used to build in you is the part nobody's tracking.

the bench / fractures 09 +

What's coming.

A fracture gets written when a grievance clusters. The wall's unfiled cards route here, and so do the ones you send in. These are clustering now, in rough order of heat.

parked, further out: voice-clone scams / the tool that changes underneath you / the companion question, which will be handled carefully or not at all.

Every line above is a composite pattern with published receipts behind it, same discipline as the wall. If you've lived one of these, send it in. Enough of you and it stops being unfiled.