“Goodbye” used to mean “God be with you.”
It was a blessing whispered through centuries. A remnant of prayer tucked into parting.
Today it’s a reflex. We say “bye” without hearing what we lost. That’s how language works: it changes shape to fit the times, the tools, the tempo. We invent shorthand for speed. Slang for intimacy. Buzzwords to belong.
And now, with AI, a force that will shape how we speak has entered the chat.
Since the launch of ChatGPT, certain words — “delve,” “realm,” “meticulous” — have started showing up more. They're not just popping up in essays. They're sneaking into conversations, podcasts, and video monologues. A GPT idiolect, bleeding into our own.
We trained these machines on our voices.
Now they speak back in a remix.
And we, unwittingly, start to mimic the mirror.
Not all mirrors are alike.
A recent study found that Gemini and ChatGPT don’t just answer differently — they speak differently.
ChatGPT favours academic precision: "glucose," "individuals with diabetes."
Gemini goes conversational: "sugar," "people with diabetes."
Each model develops its own tone, its own favourites, its own “vibe.” The AI you use could be shaping your voice, too. Not just what you say, but how you say it.
Language is a feedback loop. Now it loops through the machine.
But here’s the rub, and the nuance: language isn’t neutral. It never has been. It reflects who holds the mic. Who sets the tone. Who gets listened to.
When Victorian writers invented fashionable phrases, they were spinning threads from a world of candlelight and carriages. When hip hop gave birth to global slang, it echoed resistance, rhythm, and realness. The printing press changed us. So did the telephone. So did texting. Each medium reshaped our mouth.
And now, a machine trained on millions is training us back.
And we’re only two years in.
In a previous piece, I wrote about how creativity is the soul of the system. The same is true for our language. It's not just a set of words; it’s an emotional architecture. It’s what we choose to notice, what we amplify, what we forget.
And here is where the tool can be a bridge. In a legal contract or a doctor’s report, clarity is a lifesaver. AI can translate dense medical jargon into understandable terms, making information more democratic and accessible. It can be a starting point — a blueprint that we then bring to life with our own unique voice.
The tension isn't between "good" and "bad" language, but between efficiency and expression.
Machines optimise for clarity.
Humans speak in code.
But our most important words aren’t meant to be just clear.
They’re meant to be felt.
We use idioms that make no literal sense, but carry the weight of shared memory.
We cut off syllables to flirt.
We rhyme to protest.
We invent nonsense to say what can’t be said.
So when the tools begin to overwrite our tongue with generic clarity and polite professionalism, we need to notice what’s fading.
But noticing is just the start.
Because we’re not only losing language — we’re also invited to invent it.
And more than that: to train it back.
We can shape these models to speak like us.
To carry our slang.
To echo our rhythm.
To hold our emotional charge — if we know what we’re asking for.
That’s the real feedback loop.
It’s not the end of language.
It’s the beginning of a new authorship.
One where those who speak with intention get to define the tone.
Where the next language is co-written — line by line, prompt by prompt.
Because our slang is our soul.
And if we lose our wild, we lose our signal.
Language is not just data. It’s spellwork.
It tells you where you’re from and who you belong to.
It holds power and humour and rebellion.
It shows how the heart breaks, and how the streets heal.
Which is why we need poets in the loop.
Writers in the prototype phase.
Designers of new dialects who remember:
The medium always mutates the message.
But it’s the mess that makes us human.
So speak strange.
Write sideways.
Keep training the machine to sound like you.
Because this new dialect of clarity?
It’s missing the blush. The swagger. The risk.
Let the machine say “delve.”
You say “bless.”
You say “yo.”
You say “this slaps.”
In that wild, messy tension, we stay real.
— Best, Alexandra
Welcome to my ‘Humanity in Pixels’ Series
This is a lens, a journal, a small act of resistance.
A reminder that design is culture-making, memory-shaping, and meaning-building.
Let’s design what truly matters,
for now, and for what comes next.
— Best,
Alexandra
Reflections on design, storytelling, and human futures by Alexandra Jugović. © 2025