A quietly absurd cycle is emerging in our increasingly AI-assisted workplaces. It begins with a common scene: someone is tasked with producing a report on short notice. They jot down a few bullet points and let AI expand them into a full, elegant document. The report looks professional, articulate, well-structured, and seemingly comprehensive.
It’s then sent to the manager, who, swamped with meetings, calls and emails, doesn’t have time to read it in full. Instead, they ask AI to summarize it. We end up with, yes, you’ve guessed it, a few bullet points.
The loop closes. What started as a handful of thoughts became a document that no one reads, only to return to its original form, distilled and repackaged as if it went on a meaningful journey. On the surface, it all feels productive. Underneath, something troubling is unraveling.
Worryingly, this is not just a humorous anecdote. It’s a reflection of a deeper shift happening in how we think, decide, and communicate. At its core is the growing phenomenon of cognitive offloading, our tendency to rely on machines to store, process, and even interpret information that we would traditionally have handled with care and focus ourselves.
Cognitive offloading isn’t new. We began this process long ago with notebooks, calendars, and calculators. But AI has taken it to a new level. Instead of aiding our thoughts, it now often substitutes them. We don’t just lean on AI to help us write or read; we increasingly trust it to think in our place. In doing so, we risk trading insight for convenience.
The danger lies in what follows. When reports are generated and digested by machines without meaningful human engagement, critical thinking fades into the background. Writers no longer wrestle with clarity or logic. Readers no longer probe assumptions or challenge conclusions. We begin to operate in a theater of productivity, where words are exchanged, formats followed, and deadlines met, but understanding is shallow and decisions are built on thin air.
This leads to a more insidious problem: phantom consensus. Because the content is polished and structured, it appears to be reviewed. It feels legitimate. Yet no one has actually read it with care. The manager assumes the report is thorough. The report’s author assumes the reader will analyze it. Decisions are made, strategies set, actions taken, all under the illusion that thoughtful engagement has occurred. But often, it hasn’t.
As this pattern becomes normalized, it threatens to redefine what knowledge work even means. If communication becomes a loop of AI-generated content summarized by other AIs, where does the human insight enter? If decisions are based on summaries of summaries, what happens to nuance? To skepticism? To depth?
None of this is to suggest we abandon AI. Far from it. These tools can enhance our capabilities in profound ways. But we must be deliberate. Productivity is not the same as progress. A completed report is not the same as a well-understood one. And efficiency is not a replacement for judgment.
We must reclaim the value of reading deeply, of thinking slowly, and of writing with intent. AI can be our collaborator, but never our conscience. It can refine our thoughts, but not replace them. It can illuminate blind spots, but it cannot define what matters.
If we’re not careful, we’ll build a world where reports circulate endlessly, processed by machines, unread by humans, decisions echoing through boardrooms with no anchor in real understanding. A world where thinking is outsourced, and all that remains is the illusion of productivity.
We cannot allow this to happen. Not because we fear AI, but because we must value what it means to think.
Coascendence 
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