India, May 26 -- There is a scene in the Ramayana that frightened me as a child. Rama cuts off Ravana's heads. One falls. Another rises. Again. Again. Again. I thought the terror was a demon who could not die. Now I think it was a mind that could not surrender. When AI arrived, I recognized that mind in myself. Each time the machine crossed a boundary, I moved the boundary. Every fallen certainty returned as another argument.

I did not watch Ravana. I became him.

HEAD ONE: TEXT

"It can only play with text"

Then it began making images. I remember the six-finger phase. Broken hands. Melting faces. Garbled words inside pictures. I laughed with relief. The flaws were funny because they were useful. Every error restored the old order. Then...