As a man thinketh, so is he, but a man can only think as far as his language can allow. The languages we know light up the corridors of our mind. Some are bright, some are dim, and some we have never walked into. A missing word leaves a corridor dark, and most of us never walk into the dark ones. Our feelings have a ceiling too, and so do our friendships, and both rise with every new word, every new language and every sentence we dare to say.

We have spent thousands of years building tools to overcome the limits of our bodies, cars because we could not run fast enough, planes because we could not fly, computers because our minds could not hold or process all the information we needed them to and each tool we built was a confession of our limitations, a monument to everything we could not do on our own. Now we are building something different, not a tool that extends our arms or legs or memory, but a machine that predicts the next most likely word, the next most likely solution, the next most likely outcome, not because it understands, but because it has learned the patterns of everything we have ever done. The universe speaks in numbers, and we have finally built a machine that can compute the code to reality a machine that can make a thousand mistakes while we sleep, compress a lifetime of learning into hours, and sell us something we have never been able to manufacture: more attempts per unit of lived time, more chances to get things right, more life squeezed out of the limited hours we have been given.