Brendan O'Donnell

I was raised in a world before the internet and then watched algorithms drift across the landscape like smoke from a distant fire. I've seen the birth of VHS, CDs, DVD's, MP3s, and Social Media, and now I sit on the shores of human creativity, watching the AI tsunami form on the horizon. The same hands of mine that frantically dialed a rotary phone now tap text messages to tell AI agents how to build my code.

I've never been confident in how to interpret the signs of impending technology, but time carries on just as it always threatens to. Seconds are counted in ticks and progress is measured in clicks. Some days I feel like a monk in the Dark Ages, running up the protective tower to keep his books and gold coins from the beaching raiders. Other times I feel like a Dust Bowl farmer staring down the rows of his field atop a tractor for the first time, knowing a week's worth of work will be done in an hour.

This page is my tower. It's my field. I'm not sure about anything else.