During a leisurely weekend gathering with friends—a ritual that often brings both laughter and long conversations—the subject of artificial intelligence inevitably surfaced, as it seems to do with increasing frequency these days. The discussion took a turn when one of my friends raised a rather striking ethical point, saying firmly, “I refuse to take water from a low-income family.” His sentiment was a direct response to the numerous reports suggesting that massive AI data centers consume millions of gallons of water each day to cool their servers and manage energy use. The gravity of his words hung in the air, and the group responded with solemn nods of agreement, collectively sharing a sense of moral responsibility toward the environment and the communities affected by technological advancement.
I, however, remained silent. Beneath my calm exterior, I could feel an uncomfortable wave of guilt tightening in my chest, each moment accentuating the quiet shame that I tried so hard to conceal. None of them suspected that sitting quietly in my pocket was my phone, hosting the ChatGPT application—a tool I had come to depend on daily for both personal curiosity and professional efficiency. I understood their concerns, truly. The future of artificial intelligence feels unpredictable, at times even disquieting, its potential both awe-inspiring and threatening. Like many, I find myself torn between fascination and fear.
The ethical and environmental implications often dominate conversations, but my worries extend further into the professional realm. As a journalist, I cannot help but wonder whether AI will one day render me obsolete. The thought that algorithms could soon produce articles, analyze trends, and communicate narratives with the same clarity that I have spent years cultivating is deeply unsettling. And this anxiety isn’t confined to journalism; many industries are now walking this same precarious line. What professions might AI dismantle next? How many livelihoods could quietly disappear in the name of progress?
Then, there is the youngest generation—Generation Alpha—children who will grow up never knowing a world without immediate, articulate, and machine-generated answers at their fingertips. I worry about what this instant gratification might cost them. Will they lose the patience and persistence required to craft an original argument, to think critically, or to wrestle with words until they discover their own voice? For those of us who are older, even we are at risk of becoming intellectually complacent. Before search engines and digital assistants, the act of seeking knowledge demanded effort—it required curiosity, analysis, and reflection. Now, a single prompt can yield a perfectly structured response. I wonder whether, in surrendering the pursuit of answers, we are slowly surrendering our critical thinking skills as well.
Despite these misgivings, I cannot deny the undeniable convenience of AI in my everyday life. It has quietly become interwoven into my routines, an invisible assistant that saves me time and expands my understanding of the world. Instead of turning to Google, I now ask ChatGPT for answers. The responses I receive come not only faster but also with an impressive cohesion of information that feels more comprehensive than hours of independent searching could produce.
One recent example stands out vividly. While traveling through Denver International Airport, I became captivated by the building’s striking white roof, shaped like the peaks of circus tents. I found myself wondering how such a structure could possibly endure harsh weather, especially the notorious Colorado storms. Rather than embarking on a cumbersome online search through multiple articles and videos, I simply asked ChatGPT. Within seconds, I was reading a detailed explanation of the architectural materials and the clever engineering that allowed the roof to withstand wind and snow. The experience was both efficient and intellectually satisfying. Where once I might have set the question aside unasked, AI enabled me to explore curiosity instantaneously—and in that sense, it made me fractionally more knowledgeable.
In my professional capacity as an editor, the usefulness of AI goes far beyond mere curiosity. Each day, I receive a flood of correspondence—hundreds of emails that could easily consume every hour if I let them. So, I trained ChatGPT to create an intelligent prioritization system. It now identifies which messages require immediate action, which can wait, and which can safely be ignored. This simple bit of automation has restored portions of my day that I had long surrendered to administrative chaos.
Similarly, when I conduct research for articles, ChatGPT assists by swiftly compiling studies from across the web, summarizing them in structured outlines or visual summaries that distill information into its clearest form. Of course, I still verify every claim, ensuring sources are legitimate and findings are accurate—human discernment remains irreplaceable—but the preliminary legwork is undeniably lighter. Every use, however, comes with a moment of self-doubt. I sometimes pause to ask myself whether, by training AI to perform the same tasks I depend on for my livelihood, I am contributing to my own professional redundancy. Yet, a resolute part of me holds on to the belief that no algorithm can replicate the uniquely human aspects of journalism: intuition, empathy, and the art of storytelling shaped through lived experience.
Beyond work, AI has surprised me with its value in more personal, even emotional, contexts. Recently, when a friend confided in me about his struggles with mental health, I found myself uncertain about what to say. Seeking guidance, I turned to ChatGPT for advice on how to provide comfort and practical support. The suggestions were thoughtful, sensitive, and accompanied by a list of credible resources that I could share. It was, in its own way, a reminder that technology—when used conscientiously—can foster a kind of human connection rather than replace it.
Over the past year, AI has quietly transformed countless corners of my life. It has helped me manage time, expand knowledge, and even navigate empathy. Yet, I carry this relationship with secrecy, conscious of the judgment it might invite from those closest to me. Admitting that I rely on an AI assistant feels, at times, like confessing a moral transgression. I wish we could discuss the advantages and drawbacks of AI more openly, without shame or fear of condemnation. The topic deserves nuance and honesty—a balanced understanding that acknowledges both the peril and the promise.
I suspect, though, that the social dynamics around me won’t change anytime soon. My friends will likely continue to view AI with suspicion, framing it as a catalyst of harm to jobs, ecosystems, and creativity. All I can do is hope that society, over time, learns to integrate these tools responsibly, finding equilibrium between innovation and preservation. Of course, that hope may sound naïve; people will say I am ignoring legitimate risks. But history shows that humanity has weathered every technological upheaval before—from the printing press that democratized information, to the Industrial Revolution that reshaped labor, to the dot-com era that redefined communication. Each transformation has provoked fear and resistance before ultimately giving way to progress. I choose to believe that artificial intelligence, too, will find its rightful place among these chapters of human advancement—and that, despite our fears, we will emerge once again on top.
Sourse: https://www.businessinsider.com/millenial-loves-chatgpt-ai-friends-condemn-it-2025-9
