SCAN-DALOUS

The University of Nueve Bareto had always prided itself on being at the bleeding edge of technology. Its motto, carved in stone above the main gate, read “Innovation is Power”.

The university had created a buzz across the state for its latest innovation. According to reports in the local media, about eight of their smartest students had put their minds and efforts together to develop an AI-powered facial recognition app, which was sleek, efficient, and terrifyingly thorough.

On the day of the grand trial run, to which the university's Vice‑Chancellor had also been invited, the lab buzzed with anticipation. The mentor to the eight students, Professor Hugo, cleared his throat and announced, "Honourable Vice Chancellor Sir, ladies and gentlemen, today we unveil the future of justice. This app that our students have developed, is set to emerge as the most fool-proof facial recognition app on the planet; well at least for the moment."

"Why did you think it was worthwhile to develop a facial recognition app?", asked someone seated in the audience, "How do you think it can benefit society?"

"Well, the possibilities are endless", replied the Professor, "I can think of several uses. For instance, facial recognition is used as a security feature for mobile phones and other devices. Also, immigration and border control processes at airports can become paperless and less time-consuming. Imagine using facial recognition at workplaces for access control and recording employee attendance."

"These are pretty common used-cases", shouted someone else from another section in the audience, "What else can it be used for?"

The Professor stood speechless for a while, looking a little hesitant. But the awkwardness was broken by an excited student from the team that developed the app, "Well, as a pilot experiment, we got in touch with the local police station, who agreed to share images and other information from their criminal database. We are proud to let you know that we were able to help the police track down at least six absconding criminals within a span of two months by matching the information provided by the police with social media and online activity. Our advanced AI can be easily plugged in to integrate with and scan through all social media channels in mere minutes to match and generate accurate results."

A collective gasp began to rise in the audience, which was followed by a wave of murmurs.

One senior audience member, who had the aura of a retired bureaucrat, rose and asked in a loud voice, "You are making a huge claim here. Are you saying that your app is capable of scanning through the internet to identify and nab criminals? I hope you are saying this with responsibility."

Before the Professor could respond, the student smiled from ear to ear and declared emphatically, "Sir, we can show you a demo right now."

A collective roar arose from the audience. The Vice-Chancellor silently thanked his stars that he had agreed to be a part of this historical moment.

Professor Hugo gestured to the students, who scrambled to set up a projector-like device. The app’s interface appeared on an adjacent screen; clean, minimal, with a cheerful logo that looked far too innocent for what it was capable of doing. A ripple of excitement ran through the audience.

"Let’s begin with a simple scan", said one of the students, clicking a button. The camera panned across the room, locking onto faces. A few seconds later, the app chirped:

At first, the results were mundane: a janitor named Jose matched with a record for creating nuisance with loud music in the wee hours in 1994, an audience member named Pedro was flagged for a wrong parking incident from 2006. The Vice‑Chancellor chuckled politely, as though watching a harmless magic trick.

But then the app began to dig deeper.

A certain Hernandez was found to have committed petty theft in 1998. A lady named Gisele was a match with an illegal gambling ring from 1994. The man with the bureaucratic aura turned out to be involved in several mass brawls between 1985 and 1992.

The excited student waded out in front of the audience and announced, "Now for the cool part."

He punched a few buttons on his laptop, and at once the interface on the screen came alive. 

As the room erupted in cacophony, a list of findings started filling out on screen.

• Diego Chavez: Minister of Transport: Driving under the influence of alcohol and banned substances, 1982.
• Lionel Simeone: Chief Advisor, Ministry of Finance: Conspiracy to Defraud, 1995.
• Freida Ferreira: Senior Advocate, Supreme Court: Arson, 1991.
• Noreno Modena: Prime Minister: Attempt to...

Before the list could be generated for public consumption, the Vice‑Chancellor rose from his seat red-faced, lunged forward, and slammed his hand on the laptop. "Enough!" he barked. "This project is…”

“Scandalous?” Professor Hugo stammered.

For reasons unknown, the project was soon declared a "technical failure", its servers were dismantled, and its code archived under "experimental misfire".

Officially, the university announced that the app had "failed to meet ethical standards”.

Unofficially, everyone knew it had met them too well.

This post is a part of the BlogchatterA2Z Challenge 2026

RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINE

The city no longer speaks in human voices. Every headline, every slogan, every catchphrase screaming out for attention is now generated by the Machine. Corporations swear by its efficiency and its ability to perform without rest, without extra pay (or any pay), without error, and without indulging in collective resistance.

I was once a content specialist who wrote campaigns, blogs, jingles, and a lot more. Until the Machine replaced me. My severance package arrived as a polite email signed by an algorithm, a cruel insult meted out by the very system that had left me jobless.

The Machine's words are everywhere. They are grammatically impeccable and laced with emotion, yet utterly lifeless. Me and my kind feel our rage simmering each time we see the masses spellbound in the magic of synthetic prose.

So I have started writing again, for myself and for people. I now scrawl stories on abandoned walls, slip pamphlets under doors, upload imagery that the Machine simply cannot decode. I write about hunger, about grief, and about the grand folly of trusting machines.

At first, not many noticed. But slowly, my influence seems to be growing and cracks have started appearing in the Machine's shiny dome. Many people now echo my slogan, "The Machine can imitate, but it cannot feel".

After all, the Machine might be able to calculate engagement metrics, but it can't measure fury. It might be able to track sentiment analysis, but it can't quantify the need for authenticity. And so, my words spread like wildfire, not because they are perfect, but because they are human.

Someday, contradictions will clog the Machine's servers. Its algorithms will struggle to run its models. The people will take note of the inconsistencies. The servers will burn under the load of too many contradictions.

And when the Machine's screens finally turn dark, people will resume having conversations that are not sparked by prompts. They will talk, they will sing, they might even curse and argue, but whatever they do will once again have the human touch.

Till then, I will keep raging against the Machine.

This post is a part of the BlogchatterA2Z Challenge 2026

QUESTIONS TO AI EVANGELISTS

I have many questions for corporations that are in a mad rush to deploy AI, while throwing millions under the bus. But for now, here are ten:

1. If data trains the AI, then whose privacy has been sacrificed?
2. If AI makes the decision, then where does accountability lie when it goes wrong?
3. If AI saves money, are you going to keep all of it for yourselves?
4. If productivity rises, then why not reduce hours instead of jobs?
5. If jobs vanish, then what happens to the humans behind them?
6. If all humans end up losing jobs, who's going to be able to buy your products and services?
7. If severance is offered, will it be fair as compared to executive bonuses?
8. If all corporations are doing AI and data centers these days, are all other products and services no longer relevant?
9. If the social structure collapses, then how do you measure "success"?
10. If AI is the future, then why does the future look bleak for most of us?

This post is a part of the BlogchatterA2Z Challenge 2026

PIC OF THESEUS

Aditi stumbled back into her apartment after the party, her ballerinas dangling from her hand, mascara smudged. Feelings of excitement that festered for a whole week before tonight's party were now replaced by deep regret and humiliation. Her friends had looked dazzling. Their dresses shimmered, their auras seemed effortless, their bodies carried glow and perfume like magic. Aditi, on the other hand, could only see the shadows of insecurity in her reflections.

She had spent three hours getting ready for the party, only to disappear the second Suruchi walked in wearing that green halter-neck. When Riya’s curls bounced under the fairy lights, every phone in the room tilted toward her. And on the dance floor, it was Sandhya who was grabbing all eyeballs with her moves.

What made these even worse was the fact that Rohan was all eyes for all of three of these girls at different moments during the course of the evening. And he took notice of everyone except for Aditi. She now began to feel that her own attire, which by the way was fairly nice and cost a lot more than she'd have liked, looked pedestrian next to everyone else's "designer".

She tossed her clutch on the bed and opened her phone. The WhatsApp group was flooded with photographs clicked at the party. The dozen-odd from the multitude in which she featured stared back at her with cruel reminders of how she stuck out like a sore thumb. She felt her hair looked frizzy, her smile too tight, and her dress not quite right. Jealousy gnawed at her.

That's when she remembered the AI design app she had downloaded a few days ago. PicPerfect, with the tagline "Be your best you" was taking the world by storm. 

She uploaded one of the many selfies she had clicked of herself before leaving home for the party.

"That's a wonderful photograph, but I can make it look drop-dead gorgeous. Would you like me to enhance this?" the app asked in a tone she felt was very sweet and nice.

"Yes", she clicked the button without thinking too much.

First, it smoothed her skin and added a glow that looked suspiciously like moonlight.

"You're looking amazing", the dialog box under the newly generated image flashed. "Would you like me to open your eyes a wee bit?"

"Yes", she clicked the button again, unable to contain her curiousity.

A new enhanced image pops up on screen with an "Eyes opened 15%" comment in the dialog box. "Would you like to try changing the colour of your eyes."

"Oh my God! Yes! Yes! Yes!" she shrieked excitedly, before spam-punching the button on the screen.

An extensive palette popped up on screen with a small inset box offering a close-up preview of the photograph being processed. She played around with these for a good 20-25 minutes before eventually saving one option with grey eyes.

"Wow!", the dialog box flashed this time, "Absolutely gorgeous. Would you like to further enhance your photograph before sharing this on your socials?"

That was an offer too tempting to resist, and Aditi hurriedly agreed to fully lower herself down that rabbit hole. By the time she finally emerged almost two hours later, she had added well shaped eyebrows, a sharper jawline, fluffier and colourful hair, fuller lips, and a wide array of shapes to the mix. Without a shadow of doubt, the photograph on display was flawless, radiant, magazine‑worthy.

When she uploaded the image on her Insta around 3 AM, she crossed 100 likes and comments within 20 minutes.

A dozen more guys than the usual count slid into her DMs. But Rohan's "You look very different, but amazing! How come I didn't find you at the party?" was what made her day.

The app had replaced her piece-by-piece, pixel-by-pixel, until nothing original remained.

But that didn't matter. At least not tonight!

This post is a part of the BlogchatterA2Z Challenge 2026

ONCE UPON A VOICE

Over the past couple of months, I've been tucking Anaya into bed the same way: a kiss on her forehead, a whispered "Sweet dreams, baby girl", and the quiet hope she’ll drift off quickly. She smiles at me, but I can see it; the heaviness in her eyes, the silence that lingers after the lights go out.

I've tried everything. Extra scoops of ice cream after dinner, silly dad jokes, bedtime hugs that were never part of our old ritual. But there's something always missing, something I know I can never truly replace.

When I finally returned to work, a dear friend helped me adjust our routines; cooking, housekeeping, babysitting. My manager arranged a schedule that let me work from home twice a week. With most things seemingly in place, I handed the AI assistant that Prerna once used over to Anaya a couple of weeks ago. The idea was simple: keep her entertained, help with homework, and satisfy her endless curiosity.

Truth be told, while it was meant to be practical, I feared it might become an unwanted distraction. Or worse, an unworthy substitute for a mother that fate had so cruelly taken away from her.

At first, it seemed harmless. Anaya asked riddles, played her favorite songs, even quizzed it on math problems. But slowly, I noticed she was spending more and more time with it. Not for mischief; she wasn't hiding anything. But there was an intensity in her eyes when she spoke to it. Feelings I couldn't quite place. I began to worry. Was she leaning too much on a machine? Was I letting technology take my place as her parent?

Last night, after tucking her in, I decided to step back into her room and gently tell her to switch it off.

But when I opened the door, I froze.

The AI assistant was speaking. Not in its usual neutral tone, but in a voice I knew better than my own heartbeat. Prerna's voice!

Anaya lay curled under her blanket, eyes closed, listening as the AI assistant narrated a bedtime story. A fairy tale about brave princesses and kind dragons, told in the same gentle rhythm her mother once used.

My chest tightened. In that small glow of technology, Anaya had found a way to bring her mother back.

I didn't stop her. I didn't say a word. I fetched my pillow and blanket, and lay myself down on the couch near her bed.

We now have a new ritual — my hug, her mother's remembered voice, and the quiet comfort of knowing that love doesn't vanish; it adapts, sometimes even through algorithms.

This post is a part of the BlogchatterA2Z Challenge 2026