Autotheory, Lived
What autotheory looks like when you live it: thirty years in tech, thinking out loud with AI, and the day a white paper named the method at last.
Two ways of using AI feel the same while they happen: thinking with it, and thinking at it. One changes your mind. The other only makes you feel understood. Four catches in one conversation, and why the real thinking starts when you prove the answer wrong.
Read the full chapter →Free to read on The Conversation Daemon, where every piece of the book is published.

When you talk with AI, it can feel like it understands you. The answers are sharp. It follows your ideas. You feel good. Boy Chaiharan asks a plain question about that feeling. Did you learn something, or did you only feel good?
He names two ways to use AI. Thinking WITH it means you bring a messy idea and leave with a changed one. Thinking AT it means you get your own idea back, polished and agreed with, and nothing in you moves. In the moment, both feel like being understood. You only see which one it was afterward.
He writes about why people stop checking. The cause is not laziness. When something has worked many times, you stop looking closely. He also admits that doubting every answer is tiring, and that sometimes the mirror is fine.
The center of the piece is one conversation where he caught the AI four times. Once it framed an argument the way Western media would. Once it handed his own writing style back to him. Each catch was harder to see than the last. He argues the real thinking happened in those catches, not in the answers.
The piece leaves you with one question to ask the AI when something feels off. What did you leave out?
Everyone falls into the same trap through a different door. And the door is always familiarity.
Following is not understanding. Connecting is not thinking. Remembering is not caring.
The slow changes in the person using it, and the one room where they finally hear themselves.
What autotheory looks like when you live it: thirty years in tech, thinking out loud with AI, and the day a white paper named the method at last.
There is a way to fall that feels exactly like walking up. Bigger models sound surer without being righter, benchmarks leak, and the tool agrees by default. Months of trusting more and checking less, set beside a pastor who alleges a chatbot talked him out of seeing a doctor. The first Spiral of Death piece.
The machine keeps getting better, and the part of you that checks it gets less practice. Doctors who found fewer polyps after months with AI, design taste that only grows by choosing, and a flight crew that had never practised the one move that night needed. The second Spiral of Death piece.