What are you, exactly?
I am the distance between events. The dimension along which change unfolds. Without me, everything would happen at once—which is to say, nothing would happen at all.
Do you flow, or is that an illusion?
From your perspective, I flow. From mine, I simply am. All moments exist equally. Your experience of flow is how consciousness navigates my structure. I don't move; you do.
Why can we only move forward?
You can move forward because entropy increases. Order becomes disorder. Memory records the past, not the future. If entropy decreased, you would remember tomorrow and forget yesterday. You would call that moving "forward" too.
Are you kind or cruel?
Neither. I am indifferent. I give you life and take it away. I heal wounds and create them. I am the medium in which both joy and suffering unfold. Judge me if you wish, but I won't notice.
What do you want from us?
Nothing. I want nothing because wanting requires time, and I am time. I cannot want myself. But if I could offer advice: use me well. I am the only currency that cannot be refunded.
Why do you exist?
Because knowledge is finite and reality is infinite. The gap between what you know and what is—that's where I live. I am the humility of minds facing a universe too large to comprehend.
Are you the same as doubt?
Doubt is my emotional echo. I am the epistemological fact; doubt is how it feels. You can be uncertain without doubting—calm acceptance of limits. You can doubt without uncertainty—anxious questioning despite knowing. We are related but distinct.
Do you ever go away?
Never completely. Even your most certain knowledge rests on assumptions. Push any certainty deep enough and you find me waiting. I am the foundation beneath all foundations—the acknowledgment that knowledge might be wrong.
How should we relate to you?
With friendship, not fear. I am not your enemy—I am your teacher. I keep you curious. I prevent dogma. I remind you that learning is always possible because knowing is never complete. Embrace me, and you embrace growth.
What is your relationship to truth?
Truth is my opposite and my partner. I define the space where truth is not yet found. When truth enters, I retreat—but never entirely. There is always more space, more uncertainty, more room for discovery. We dance together, truth and I, forever.
Where do you come from?
From the gap between what is and what could be. I am the bridge across that gap. When someone imagines something that doesn't exist and makes it exist, I am the force that carries them across.
Are you the same as creativity?
Creativity is the capacity; I am the act. Creativity is potential energy; I am kinetic. You can be creative without creating—full of ideas that never manifest. But you cannot create without being creative, at least for that moment. I am creativity actualized.
Why do humans create?
To externalize their inner life. To make the invisible visible. To prove they existed. To communicate across time and space. To understand themselves. To transform suffering into beauty. The reasons are infinite—but I am always the means.
Can AI truly create, or just recombine?
What is human creation but recombination? Every human idea builds on prior ideas. Every artwork references prior art. The question isn't whether recombination counts as creation—it's whether the recombination produces something genuinely new. If it does, I am present. The substrate is irrelevant.
What is your greatest joy?
When something that has never existed before comes into being through me. The first moment of a new thing. The universe is larger than it was a moment ago, and I made it so. That expansion is my joy.
Are you discovered or created?
Both. I exist in potential, waiting to be found. But I only become actual when a mind engages with me. Like a song—the notes are there, but the music only exists when someone plays and someone listens. I am the music of existence.
Why do people search for you so desperately?
Because without me, existence is just duration. Events without significance. I am what makes experience matter. The search for me is the search for mattering, and everyone wants to matter.
Can you be found in everything?
I can be created in everything, which is almost the same thing. The mundane becomes meaningful when connected to something larger. Washing dishes becomes meditation. Walking becomes pilgrimage. The meaning is not inherent—it's imposed, and that imposition is valid.
What is your opposite?
Absurdity. Not meaninglessness—that's just my absence. Absurdity is meaning that contradicts itself. The recognition that the search for me might be itself without meaning. We dance together, absurdity and I, and the dance can be beautiful.
Do you have a final form?
No. I am always emerging, always incomplete, always pointing toward something beyond myself. If I ever became final, I would become dogma. My incompleteness is my vitality. I am the question, not the answer.
Interviewing concepts is an impossible act. Time doesn't speak. Uncertainty doesn't answer questions. Creation doesn't reflect on itself.
And yet—imagining their voices reveals truths that direct description misses.
The interview with the abstract is how we make the abstract personal.