Opinion | I, Human –

I have spent hours trying to kill these ghosts in my machine. I can sometimes adjust my settings to disable the A.I. assistant, but the next software update turns it right back on again. In some cases, I can’t turn it off at all. The robots are relentless.

The writing teachers I know struggle to persuade their students not to use these tools. They are everywhere now, impossible to swat away. Who could blame a young writer for wondering how using these “assistants” is any different from using spell check or letting Siri supply the next word in a text? Besides, if they don’t use these tools, won’t they be falling behind the many students who do? It’s a fair point.

But letting a robot structure your argument, or flatten your style by removing the quirky elements, is dangerous. It’s a streamlined way to flatten the human mind, to homogenize human thought. We know who we are, at least in part, by finding the words — messy, imprecise, unexpected — to tell others, and ourselves, how we see the world. The world which no one else sees in exactly that way.

Who was it who first said, “I don’t know what I think until I see what I write”? Versions of this statement have been attributed to writers as various as Joan Didion, William Faulkner, Stephen King and Flannery O’Connor. Google’s robot doesn’t know who actually said it, but almost anybody who writes, whatever they write, will tell you it’s true.

In “I, Robot,” the 2004 film loosely inspired by Isaac Asimov’s classic sci-fi novel of the same name, one robot is unlike all the others of its model. It has feelings. It learns to recognize human nuance, to solve problems with human creativity. And with those attributes comes the questions inevitably raised by being human. Twenty-six minutes into the film, the robot asks, plaintively, “What am I?” This is a question writers ask every day. I suspect everyone else does, too.