What's lost on the machine? Perhaps its subtlety, its unpredictability, its counter-intuition in pursuit and defiance of the presumed greater good.

What is lost is the confounding. The hallucination-as-reality. The madness prerequisite. What's lost is the imperfection, the speculation, and the selfishness. What remains is a misleading goal of refinement.

The terrain threatens to be devastating not because of its potential intelligence superceding our own, but because of its mimicry of the intangibility of the soul.