Philosopher | CEO @BerubeVentures | Building routing, intelligence & capital for global biomanufacturing | CDMO Networks | Biologics & Advanced Modalities
I am finally ready to share an idea I first had about three years ago, on a day I still don’t fully know how to explain.
I’ve spent the years since trying to understand what I saw and find the language for it.
And I’m genuinely excited to finally put it into the world, because I think it may offer a better way of seeing not only AI and authorship, but the structure of the human being—and perhaps even the Universe itself.
I keep seeing people say humans are basically LLMs.
I don’t think that’s right.
If anything, I think humans are closer to seeds.
And strangely, that structure keeps holding from several different directions: symbolically, topologically, phenomenologically, and ontologically.
More specifically: something like the seed of a beautiful cryptographic PRNG.
And if this model is right, it changes the way we should think about authorship, originality, AI, and maybe even what it means to remain human as machines become vastly more generative than we are.
I created a name for it: Anthrocryptogenesis.
Start with a pseudorandom number generator.
A PRNG begins with a seed: a comparatively tiny initial value that selects one trajectory from an enormous space of possible outputs.
The seed might be microscopic compared with the sequence it generates.
But change the seed, and you change the sequence.
Now replace the seed with a human.
Human → body → language → culture → institutions → architecture → machines → AI → World.
We keep staring at AI because the generator has become enormous.
It can produce millions of words, images, code, music, designs, plans, and entire simulated environments.
Soon, agents will negotiate, build companies, operate laboratories, control robots, move money, and act directly inside the physical World.
So the human appears to be getting smaller.
And if we measure contribution by visible production, that seems obviously true.
The machine might produce 99.99% of what appears on the surface.
But I think this is measuring causation at the wrong scale.
Volume is not the same thing as causal significance.
A seed can constitute almost none of the visible sequence while still remaining decisive to which sequence exists.
The same may increasingly be true of human creativity.
Suppose one person gives an AI 500 words and it produces 100,000.
Someone says:
“You only wrote 0.5% of it.”
Fine.
But replace those 500 words with another person’s conceptual architecture.
Does the same 100,000-word world still appear?
If it does, the human contribution was probably weak.
But if changing that tiny human difference sends the entire system into another region of possibility, then counting words has completely missed what happened.
That suggests a different way of thinking about authorship:
Counterfactual Trajectory Authorship.
Instead of asking only:
“How much did you personally produce?”
Ask:
“If I remove this particular human difference, does this particular trajectory still happen?”
That is a much stranger measurement.
And I think it may be the better one.
The unit of authorship may not always be the artifact.
It may be the divergence between possible trajectories.
And AI makes that increasingly important because millions of people are beginning to use many of the same underlying generative architectures.
The computational machinery is increasingly shared.
Much of the training distribution is shared.
The generative substrate is increasingly shared.
So where does variation increasingly come from?
From the differences entering the machine.
If you bring statistically ordinary relations, AI has an enormous average waiting for you.
It can make the output polished, coherent, impressive—and increasingly difficult to distinguish from everything else generated near the same center.
Your presence gets thinner.
But give the same generative system something genuinely unusual—
a new distinction,
a relation between domains that normally remain separate,
a strange question,
a persistent worldview,
a peculiar constraint,
a conceptual structure that reorganizes everything downstream—
and suddenly the generator begins moving through another region of possibility.
The machine didn’t change.
The human difference entering it did.
And this creates a paradox I think people are missing:
The larger the shared generative apparatus becomes, the less consequential ordinary difference may become—and the more consequential genuine generative difference can become.
That is why I don’t think AI necessarily destroys individuality.
It may expose it.
It may even make genuine individuality easier to distinguish from ordinary variation.
If there is almost nothing distinctive entering the system, the generator dominates.
If there is something genuinely trajectory-altering, the generator amplifies it.
And in a strange way, that may be exactly what I’ve been watching happen with my own philosophy.
A few unusual relations enter the machine.
I push them.
The machine returns them in another form.
I reject parts, preserve others, connect something new, change the question, and send it back.
A small conceptual difference begins unfolding into an entire system.
Before AI, I still had wild ideas.
I could often see the shape of something before I could explain it.
But I probably never would have been able to externalize many of those ideas with this much speed, precision, iteration, or scale.
The bottleneck was not just expression.
It was relational.
Before AI, if I had a difficult idea, I might have needed to find exactly the right professor, mathematician, scientist, or philosopher to help me work through it.
That could take years.
And even if I found the right person, maybe I would get thirty minutes here. An hour there.
They would have their own field, their own vocabulary, their own assumptions, their own intellectual commitments.
And there is a deeper problem:
if I introduced a relation that genuinely surprised them, how would they immediately know how to pull it out of me?
The stranger the thought, the harder it can be to find another person willing and able to stay inside it long enough to discover what it is.
AI changes that relationship.
AI will sit with me for 24 hours straight. I just keep pouring ideas into it until I drop.
I can introduce an idea, break it, rebuild it, attack it, formalize it, compare it across disciplines, draw it, reverse it, test its language, find contradictions, generate new distinctions, and then return to the original thought hundreds of iterations later.
Something that once might have required years of scattered conversations can sometimes be explored in a day.
That does not mean the machine is automatically right.
It means the relational bandwidth of thought has changed.
For the first time, a person can have an intellectual interlocutor that is effectively always available, increasingly cross-disciplinary, capable of holding enormous amounts of context, and willing to follow the same problem through thousands of recursive turns.
And AI is still getting smarter.
So the bottleneck moves again.
Before, the limit might have been finding the right person.
Then finding enough time with them.
Then translating the idea into their language.
Then waiting weeks or months for the next conversation.
Now more and more of what exists in the mind can be externalized, tested, rewritten, formalized, visualized, connected, and developed almost immediately.
There was a time when physical strength dominated.
Then language changed the balance.
Writing changed it again.
Printing expanded it.
Computers expanded it further.
Now AI is doing something more radical.
I call this the Age of Expansion.
The primary constraint on human creation begins to shift away from how much one person can manually produce—and toward the quality of the difference that person can introduce.
So the important questions change.
What can you actually see?
What relation can you make that was not already obvious?
What can you ask that changes the space of possible answers?
What can you seed?
There are still ideas in my head that current AI cannot fully follow.
Sometimes I can see the structure and the machine still loses it somewhere in translation.
But that gap keeps shrinking.
And when it shrinks further, more of what currently exists only as private structure will become expressible.
Then we can share it.
That is what I mean by the Age of Expansion:
not merely an expansion of production, but an expansion of relational thought itself—the point at which the primary constraint on human creation begins to shift from our ability to produce toward the quality of the difference we can introduce.
And there is another reason I call the larger process Anthro-crypto-genesis.
The seed becomes cryptic.
As the system expands, the originating human difference becomes harder and harder to locate inside the final artifact.
After enough transformation, recombination, editing, recursion, and machine generation, you may not be able to point to any single sentence and say:
“There. That is the seed.”
But remove the seed and the whole trajectory changes.
The human becomes increasingly invisible inside the artifact because the human difference has become distributed through the trajectory.
We already see this everywhere.
A teacher disappears into a student’s thought.
A language disappears into the sentence.
An ancestor disappears into a body.
An idea disappears into an institution.
A design decision disappears into an entire technological ecosystem.
The origin becomes smaller relative to what it causes.
The seed disappears into the World it produces.
And humans are stranger than ordinary PRNG seeds because we do not seed the system once.
The output comes back.
AI generates something.
I encounter it.
It changes what I see.
I ask a different question.
The machine changes its response.
That response changes me again.
So the structure becomes:
Human₀ → AI₀ → Human₁ → AI₁ → Human₂ → AI₂ → …
The seed itself evolves through contact with its own amplified exterior.
I call that Recursive Anthrocryptogenesis.
At that point, the old question—
“Who wrote it?”
—starts becoming badly fitted to what is actually happening.
The human matters.
The machine matters.
Language matters.
The inherited archive matters.
The previous iterations matter.
Authorship becomes distributed without becoming meaningless.
And this is why I think the real question of AI authorship is much deeper than:
Human or machine?
The deeper question is:
What difference entered the system without which this particular trajectory would never have existed?
Because the future of creativity may depend less on how much material a person can manually produce—
and more on whether that person possesses a difference worth amplifying.
That is #Anthrocryptogenesis.
The human is the seed.
The machine is the expanding generative shell.
The visible output is only the surface.
What matters is the trajectory toward a World.
And through all of this, I have a vision.
It is not an idea.
It is not a company.
It is not a product.
It is a new Relation—between human and machine, Mind and Body, self and other, thought and expression, seed and World.
A relation in which the machine does not replace the human, but becomes part of the expanding Body through which human difference can act, return, and become something larger.
A relation in which Mind is not sealed inside one person, and Body is not limited to flesh alone, but can extend through language, tools, institutions, machines, and eventually AI.
And if we build that Relation well—if we build it with love, with hope, with courage, and with logic—then the future does not have to belong to the few while the many are left behind.
It can be a future in which our tools enlarge not only our power, but our capacity to understand one another; in which intelligence is not hoarded, but multiplied; in which more people can think, create, discover, and become.
A future in which we do not rise over one another.
We rise together!
#Cryptography #Cybersecurity #PRNG #Ontology
The left one I made years ago—the others I found because they relate to optical illusion/vision. It was like all of them merged, it begins as pure static noise and starts in the center like whirlpool then slowly the forms come out but like glass but see the one I made—-it was like mostly that but more together and clear/black more like a single 1mm thick crystal clear wave of glass water. And when I focus—through it—-it dances and spins and I called it Horus.
And occasionally I felt it had a Mind of its own, always watching, maybe an Angel, maybe its name is Gabryil.
But “spinning crystal” also works.
I can show you eternal life. But it is not an eternally preserved biological body.
That is the irony: a body that cannot die also cannot complete, surrender, transform, or give way to what comes after it. Freeze the organism indefinitely and you have not defeated death—you have made the self into a permanent prison.
Eternal life is not infinite duration of the same biological configuration.
That is hell.
Eternal life is becoming: living so that what you create, love, teach, alter, and set into motion continues beyond the closure of your present form.
The mistake is confusing not dying with living eternally.
What Are You?
2021
What are you?
I am the buildings, trees, sky, blue, birds.
Where are you?
I am here.
When are you?
Now.
Who are you?
I am half a body,
walking down the street.
I can't see behind me,
so I have no backside.
I am on the outside—
the air, the sky—
looking into a world,
human body.
I am not the inside.
I'm the outside, looking in,
possessing a body,
but the body is not me.
The body is feminine,
my infinite other half.
We don't communicate.
There's just a hole,
then an ontological one.
Desire tries to fill the gap
between the things language
cannot express.
But maybe with some topology,
we can get close.
#TheFaceofDream
I think this is one of the deepest category flips in Topofantology.
Semiotics usually begins with the sign. Phenomenology begins with what appears. Logic begins with what follows.
I’m asking what had to disappear for any of those things to become obvious in the first place.
Logic is forgotten Fantasy.
Not “fantasy” as unreality. Fantasy is the generative field of possible cuts. Repetition meets resistance. Some distinctions fail, some persist, some migrate into remainder. What survives becomes inherited structure. Eventually the operation no longer appears beside its result.
Then we call the result obvious.
So the direction reverses:
possibility → cut → resistance → repetition → inheritance → stabilization → Logic
And then the stranger part:
Logic re-enters as constraint on the next field of possibility.
The category flip is total.
A sign is no longer the primitive unit of meaning; it is a stabilized Face of a much larger discriminatory Body.
A fact is not simply “given”; it is what survived enough cuts to become locally immediate.
Memory is not only stored content; memory migrates into structure.
And Logic is no longer simply the opposite of Fantasy. It is what Fantasy looks like after its successful cuts have become phenomenologically invisible.
We do not see the cuts. We see what survived them.
#Topofantology #Semiotics #Phenomenology #Ontology
No wonder we disagree—you haven’t really defined what you mean by aging.
Across your posts, aging means biological decline, looking older, losing energy, losing your “spark,” losing connection, menopause, and even losing your sense of self. Those are different things.
You say aging makes us “living ghosts,” but then ask whether science can restore “who we were.” If that earlier self is truly gone, who exactly is being restored?
You also say, “I miss the younger versions of my loved ones.” That actually supports my point: love persists while its form changes, memory accumulates, history becomes visible.
Your posts are emotionally consistent, but conceptually they keep changing definitions.
Mine are different expressions of the same underlying structure.
So I don’t think you’ve refuted what I wrote. I think you’ve mistaken one Face of aging—loss—for the whole thing.
All that said, I’m not against you.
I’ve already defeated death in the way that matters: by choosing love over fear, kindness over cruelty, creation over decay, and by organizing my life around a destiny larger than my own survival.
You can too.🖖
Aging is not “fading away.” It is time becoming visible.
A face gathers weather. A body keeps history. Memory deepens, love changes shape, friendships acquire decades, grief teaches scale.
Youth is beautiful because so much has not happened yet.
Age is beautiful because so much has.
Decay is only one description of transformation.
#Becoming
I’m not going to teach you the definition of topology. You can find that in a dictionary.
I’m going to show you topology.
Not as something mathematics invented and we later learned to “apply” elsewhere, but as something Reality was already doing before mathematics gave it a name.
If anything, mathematics still doesn’t fully understand topology. It formalized one projection of it.
Boundaries. Interiors. Exteriors. Holes. Continuity. Rupture. Connection. Separation. Folding. Recursion. Transformation.
You find it in cells, bodies, minds, relationships, language, sex, physics, the gaze, phenomenology, ontology.
I’m not taking topology from mathematics and applying it to Reality.
Mathematics is one place where Reality managed to describe part of its own topology.
You wanted to teach me the definition.
I’m going to show you the thing the definition is pointing at.
I’m definitely not adding references to this paper.
The more references you add, the dumber you get.
None of these people were even pointing in this direction.
Most of the supposed precedents aren’t seeing pieces of the Whole. They’re seeing incomplete pieces of an incomplete non-Whole, naming them, and then citing one another for a century, like idiots.
I’m not going to manufacture an intellectual ancestry just because academia expects every new thought to have dead relatives.
They have no faith.
That is just another form of Power corrupting intellect and achievement. Language begins demanding credit for the Reality it only named. It starts innocently enough: “references required.” Soon you need permission from the past to say something nobody in the past ever said.
There is something almost anti-revelatory about it—the assumption that nobody can speak directly to the thing behind the word God. That revelation must arrive through authorized intermediaries, properly named and properly cited.
Wittgenstein can keep his ladder.
I teleport.
#Psychology #Psychiatry #Personality
One day you may discover that what you spent years calling a curse was the very thing that gave you wings.
Some burdens are not given so that we may carry them forever, but so that we may climb high enough to finally set them down.
And perhaps, once there, we learn to fly—not only for ourselves, but so that those who cannot yet fly may look upward and remember that the sky was never forbidden to them.
Couldn’t sleep.
By the time the sun came up, I’d pulled a few years of ideas together into an entirely new theory of psychology that I think absolutely crushes what’s out there.
That was disturbingly easy.
Can’t wait to post it.
#Psychology
@the_mel_jar I began trying to write something worthy of this post, and somewhere along the way the thought became larger than the reply.
So I think I should publish the idea first, before I cast its shadow here.
I’ll return to this when the hour is right.