In that sense, Musk's enthusiasm for Al-generated images of himself is another triumph of the imaginary over the grim reality, which is this: Elon Musk is not a warrior of some galactic empire, not a Roman centurion, not a rapper or an astronaut. He is a middle-aged man with all the problems that come with being a middle-aged man, minus the ones having to do with money. His children don't like him, his subordinates don't like him, his time is running out, and his body can perform the tasks it once accomplished with ease only with the help of drugs. AI promises someone like him more endless role-playing. And, in his understanding, Al also renders meaningless the years or even decades of accumulated expertise that generally lend our biographies their characteristic rigidity and inflexibility.

In fact, if we try to encapsulate what Al promises, we could just say: immaturity. That may not sound particularly tempting, but loitering in immaturity also means emulating those in power. Our historical moment is characterized by the power of immaturity. Or rather: Our time is characterized by immaturity as a technique of power. As soon as a person (assuming they have the right skin color and gender) is old enough that their transgressions are no longer excused as "youthful indiscretions," they already shift into the paradigm where they are simply "part of a different generation" and therefore cannot be held responsible for their words and deeds. The power of our day is always immature. And so are the technologies that wield it.