By Edo Segal
The sentence I almost missed was the one that had nothing wrong with it.
I was reviewing a chapter of You On AI — one of the analytical sections, the kind where Claude and I were building arguments together, linking ideas across disciplines, constructing the scaffolding of the book's logic. The prose was clean. The structure was tight. Every paragraph earned its place. I read it twice and felt satisfied.
Then something nagged. Not a factual error — I had learned to catch those. Not a structural flaw. Something quieter. The writing was good in a way that belonged to no one. It sounded like a competent person writing about technology. It did not sound like me.
I deleted the section and spent two hours at
A reading-companion catalog of the 18 Orange Pill Wiki entries linked from this book — the people, ideas, works, and events that Wendy Lesser — On AI uses as stepping stones for thinking through the AI revolution.
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