Introduction
We are gradually losing the ability to be surprised.
As a software engineer, I work near the act of shaping, growing, breaking, and rebuilding what people call knowledge assets. And right now, we are still in the middle of developing alongside generative AI. We have not arrived at a finished future. We are still walking on wet clay.
I see this situation from both concern and optimism.
Maybe acceleration has a ceiling. Maybe, after we hit that ceiling, surprise will return in another form.
I am thinking about both at the same time.
Surprise Is Wearing Down
In the past few months, our field has had too much large news.
A story about an unbelievably dangerous hole. A story about an unbelievably large rewrite. A story about something becoming unbelievably fast. A story about something unbelievably new appearing.
At first, each one cut deep. Like throwing a stone into water, each left ripples behind.
But lately, there are too many stones. Before we can see one ripple, the next stone falls. Eventually the whole surface shakes, and we can no longer tell where anything happened.
People who sell surprise accelerate this even further. They treat everything as the biggest event, and tell everyone to look right now.
But when every day becomes an emergency bell, people stop hearing the bell. That is dangerous. When the world is actually dangerous, the danger may no longer arrive.
The Ceiling Of Acceleration
I have two concerns.
The first is that we may already be beyond the amount human cognition can hold. The number of things to know increases. The number of things to read, judge, and doubt increases. But a day does not get longer. The body does not suddenly multiply.
It feels like stacking heavy books on a thin shelf. At first, it looks reliable. But the shelf slowly bends.
The second concern is that things which should have received attention, study, and development may be crushed by this flow.
Small inventions. Quiet improvements. Discomforts that do not yet have names.
These can disappear easily beneath large news. Like seeds before sprouting, they may be stepped on without anyone noticing.
I dislike this way of losing things.
Optimism As Reincarnation
At the same time, there is a part of this that I view optimistically.
After humans can no longer follow everything, maybe things will quiet down somewhere. Not because the world becomes slower, but because our way of being surprised dies once and is born again in another form.
This is surprise reincarnation.
From surprise that jumps at every large announcement, to surprise that asks what truly changed. From surprise that watches sparks, to surprise that reads the temperature of ash. From surprise that bathes in whatever flows past, to surprise that digs its own well.
Surprise does not die. Its posture changes.
That is how I see this reincarnation.
End
We are gradually losing the ability to be surprised.
This is not mere habituation. I think the world is changing too quickly, and surprise itself is being worn down.
The bad things caused by this acceleration should be examined seriously and essentially. And I hope the world moves in a better direction.
I do not know which way this will go. Maybe both will happen.
But it is certain that we are in this situation now.
So I do not want to blame myself too easily for becoming harder to surprise. At the same time, I do not want to treat that as simple maturity either.
The water surface is rough. The stones are still falling.
Even so, I want to choose, as much as possible, which ripples I keep watching.