For a long time, I have understood writing as a craft. I chose each word, reviewed every sentence and returned to the text as many times as necessary until I found the form I was looking for. I thought writing was like sculpting, like a jeweller working a diamond until it becomes the piece they envision. Something similar has happened to me during the thirty years I have spent programming. I know the process, I understand the structures and I know why each part of the code is where it is. However, artificial intelligence is changing that relationship. Today, it can write code better than I can, and it can also improve my writing. The result may be technically superior, but there is a difference between producing something and understanding how it was built.

For now, I can still read code generated by artificial intelligence, understand it and evaluate how it works. But I know the day will come when its complexity exceeds my ability to understand it. The same could happen with writing. We may become accustomed to accepting increasingly better texts without having genuinely participated in their creation. The problem is not that a machine writes better than we do, but that we stop developing the abilities needed to understand what it produces. Perhaps the most significant change brought about by this revolution is not that machines are learning to create, but that human beings are beginning to lose the need and, eventually, the ability to do so.