The Technological Singularity is the most overconfident idea in modern futurism: a prediction about the point where prediction breaks. It’s pitched like a destination, argued like a religion, funded like an arms race, and narrated like a movie trailer — yet the closer the conversation gets to specifics, the more it reveals something awkward and human. Almost nobody is actually arguing about “the Singularity.” They’re arguing about which future deserves fear, which future deserves faith, and who gets to steer the curve when it stops looking like a curve and starts looking like a cliff.
The Singularity begins as a definitional hack: a word borrowed from physics to describe a future boundary condition — an “event horizon” where ordinary forecasting fails. I. J. Good — British mathematician and early AI theorist — framed the mechanism as an “intelligence explosion,” where smarter systems build smarter systems and the loop feeds on itself. Vernor Vinge — computer scientist and science-fiction author — popularized the metaphor that, after superhuman intelligence, the world becomes as unreadable to humans as the post-ice age would have been to a trilobite.
In my podcast interviews, the key move is that “Singularity” isn’t one claim — it’s a bundle. Gennady Stolyarov II — transhumanist writer and philosopher — rejects the cartoon version: “It’s not going to be this sharp delineation between humans and AI that leads to this intelligence explosion.” In his framing, it’s less “humans versus machines” than a long, messy braid of tools, augmentation, and institutions catching up to their own inventions.
