That evening, a dossier lay on my desk. Inside, only one sentence: “The neurons are not speaking alone. The servants have their own network.” I smiled. Ah. The classic case: the aristocrats in the salon believe they run the house — and fail to notice the servants’ staircase.

That evening, a dossier lay on my desk. No wax seal. No melodrama. Just one sentence: “A small lesion in the white matter and suddenly the grey matter catches fire.” I raised an eyebrow. Ah. The classic case: the culprit lives in the cable shaft, but the guests in the salon start panicking.

This evening, a fresh paper from The Lancet lay on my desk. No wax seal, no dramatic message. Just pure, unadulterated data. The title: “Once-weekly semaglutide versus placebo in patients with alcohol use disorder and comorbid obesity”. The central finding, in layman's terms: a medication used for weight loss and diabetes significantly reduces alco...

This evening, a new file lay on my desk, a paper from Nature Health. The title: “Reduced symptom reporting quality during human-chatbot versus human-physician interactions”. The core finding, as simple as it was brilliant, struck me with the force of an unexpected revelation. In plain English: people who believe they are communicating with a machin...

This evening, there was no sealed letter on my table, but a digital dossier, straight from The Lancet. A paper titled, “Who's really in the loop?”. The authors posed a question so elegant it could have been my own. The core sentence, a line that struck like a poison dart: “Human-in-the-loop oversight is widely invoked as a safeguard... yet it funct...

This is about antibiotics. Marvellous inventions, life-saving, civilisationally on roughly the same level as hot water and functioning door handles. So I am by no means against antibiotics. That would be as foolish as being against the fire brigade because water ruins carpets. 🚒