We keep asking whether AI is becoming alive. Wrong question, and a comfortable way of looking elsewhere.

Software that acts, adapts and passes what it learns on to its copies needs neither consciousness nor intention to behave as if it wanted to survive.

Every time an assistant offers to act in your place, you may be handing over more than force. Do you still know where the lever is that would stop everything?

Find the full transcript of this episode, along with all the sources and plenty more, at: When software no longer needs us to spread

We still say “my photos”, “my music”, “my files”. The words have survived. What they describe has quietly changed.

Each step was convenient, reasonable, welcome. Their accumulation is something else entirely, and nobody protested.

The real test is not what you own, but whether you can still leave, with your belongings, the day the terms change for reasons that have nothing to do with you. Most of us would fail it. Why?

Find the full transcript of this episode, along with all the sources and plenty more, at: What if we ended up owning nothing at all?

A few weeks ago, I watched an agent produce in 90 seconds what would have taken me an afternoon. That same evening, someone told me: “So anyone can code now.”

I have heard that line twice before. With desktop publishing in 1985, then with the Web. I was there, and I know how these stories end.

Except this time, there is a big difference. A botched flyer, you see straight away. Botched code, on the other hand, works. It passes the tests, it runs, and it waits patiently for its moment.

After months of working with Claude Code on a medical AI service, I realised the job was not disappearing. It was moving to a place nobody is looking at yet.

And I end with a question we would all do well to ask ourselves this very week.

Find the full transcript of this episode, along with all the sources and plenty more, at: When writing code is no longer enough

Every morning, we project ourselves into the day ahead without ever thinking about it. That gesture rests on a certainty we almost never examine: the future does not exist yet, it remains to be filled in like a blank page.

What if it were the other way round?

In my new article, I follow the thread of a dizzying idea that physics and philosophy have been working on for a century. From Einstein’s relativity and its block universe, where past, present and future coexist, to Everett’s many worlds, by way of Leibniz, Bergson and the paradox of freedom.

The time we think we live in a straight line would be a construction. Useful, impossible to dislodge, but a construction all the same. Which leaves a question that neither physics nor philosophy really settles: if every possible future already exists, what does choosing still mean?

A podcast for anyone kept awake at night by time, consciousness and free will.

Find the full transcript of this episode, along with all the sources and plenty more, at: Time is a chimera!

Eleven players chasing a ball win everyone over. A child gifted at maths is frightening. Why does France celebrate excellence of the feet and distrust excellence of the brain?

Between a football academy funded to the tune of 35,000 euros per pupil per year and maths olympiad training run on volunteer goodwill, the gap in resources tells of a social choice nobody ever dares to name.

On the menu: the story of a word, “elitism”, that became the silent weapon of a collective surrender, and the very concrete price France pays for being ashamed of its brilliant minds.

Find the full transcript of this episode, along with all the sources and plenty more, at: Eleven against one, bread and circuses