Not in the biblical sense, but performing impossible miracles.

Mayumi is my Japanese niece. We’ve known each other for decades, and from day one she’s been bright, sharp, and funny. Sadly, our conversations have always been partially conducted in the international language of raised eyebrows, nodding, and hand choreography.

Her English is a work in progress.
My Japanese is…  So so aspirational.

For years, our exchanges have been charming but limited—more mime than narrative.

Then last week, something miraculous happened.

Mayumi sent me a Facebook message.

Had she skipped barefoot across the Pacific Ocean, I could not have been more impressed.

The message sparkled.
The vocabulary was rich.
The metaphors landed.
The timing was comic.

After all these years, my niece suddenly wrote like a stand-up comedian with a PhD—college-professor sentence structure, late-night TV punch lines.

I stared at the screen, stunned.

“How did she do that?” I asked.

“A.I.,” my wife Minako replied, without looking up.

“She wrote it in Japanese, pressed the A.I. translate button, then selected the Oxford-level English filter.”

I paused.

“So that’s it?” I said. “Has it come to this?”

Let me get this straight:
We can now write in Hindu, Swahili, or Urdu, press a button, and choose between ‘Einstein Intelligence’ or ‘Seinfeld Humor’?

No more sounding dull.
No more struggling with dangling participials
No more apologizing for syntax.

I can now be the funniest man in Japan.
Possibly Uzbekistan.

That, my friends, is better than walking on water.

So, to all the critics and professional nay-sayers warning us that A.I. will ruin everything—suck up all the investment capital, all the electricity, and leave us as mush-brained zombies staring into glowing screens—relax.

Every great leap forward sounded terrifying at the time.

When Columbus and Amerigo Vespucci told Europe they’d found new lands—maybe even entire continents—the critics panicked.
The ships would drain the treasury.
The oceans would swallow sailors.
The explorers would return morally corrupted, godless, and possibly sunburned.

And yet, somehow, we muddled through.

Is A.I. perfect? Of course not.
Will it cause trouble? Undoubtedly.

But here’s the real question:

What is it worth to you to communicate clearly, solve problems faster, and finally sound as smart as you actually are?

For Mayumi and me, it’s worth quite a lot.

We’ll take the miracle.
We’ll keep the humor.
And we’ll happily leave water-walking to the professionals without A.I. buttons.