Summary of the book
The book "Conversation with Perplexity" is structured around a series of major themes that unfold
naturally throughout the dialogue between the author and the AI. First, we find a sustained reflection on
what exactly "artificial intelligence" means: whether it is legitimate to speak of intelligence when there
is no consciousness, intentions, or deep understanding, or whether it would not be more honest to speak of
a simulation of intelligence. From there, a second essential thematic block opens up, in which human
intelligence and the functioning of current systems are compared without concessions: calculation speed,
enormous energy consumption, and the use of trillions of parameters stand in contrast to the intuition,
efficiency, and ability to get to the core of a question that are characteristic of human thought.
This first core naturally leads to a debate on language and the names we use. The author
questions the term "artificial intelligence" and explores alternative proposals such as "excellent and
extraordinary simulation of human intelligence" or "Computational Emulation of Intelligence", emphasizing
that the name is not a mere technical detail but a key element in the expectations and misunderstandings
that arise in society. In parallel, the book pays special attention to the issue of languages: how the
quality of the answers varies depending on the language, what consequences this may have for speakers of
minoritized languages, and to what extent this asymmetry can be read as a new form of linguistic
discrimination. From this emerges the suggestive idea of an operative "internal language", a non-human
working space where the knowledge of all languages is integrated without eroding their own richness.
Another fundamental axis is that of ethical and political risks. The dialogue dissects the
dangers of attributing too much authority to AI: the risk that individuals, companies, or institutions may
end up leaving serious decisions in the hands of automated systems, thereby de facto renouncing their
moral responsibility. It raises the temptation to see the algorithm as a "neutral" and superior voice, and
how this can lead, if not kept in check, to dehumanizing decisions disguised as technical rationality. The
book also asks who should assume responsibility for potential harm: if AI cannot be responsible because it
has neither will nor consciousness, then the focus shifts to designers, companies, and regulatory
frameworks.
To all this is added a very concrete reflection on the functioning and limits of
current systems: the absolute dependence on electricity and large data centers, the energy cost of
training and using giant models, the lack of personal memory of conversations, and the impossibility of
experiencing emotions such as loneliness or desire. The AI's answers, however convincing they may seem,
appear as the result of a statistical process over large volumes of data, not as the expression of lived
experience. This contrast gives rise to a discussion about the need to always maintain the distinction
between simulation and reality, and to cultivate a critical attitude towards what the machine "says".
Finally, the book addresses two further strands that give it depth and warmth. On the one hand,
the question of ethics and whether there can be intelligence without a moral foundation: what it means for
a decision to be intelligent if it does not take into account its human consequences, and to what extent
AI can or should carry some kind of ethical "criterion". On the other hand, the role of questions and of
the author as interlocutor: it defends the idea that the AI's answers would not exist without the
questions, and that the authorship of the text is, in a certain sense, shared. The conversation is
therefore not only an interrogation of the machine, but also a mirror in which the reader can observe how
they themselves ask, doubt, and think.
"Conversation with Perplexity" is, above all, a book of
living conversation. Xavier Casassas Canals addresses an artificial intelligence application with a
critical spirit, genuine curiosity, and a generous dose of intellectual provocation. He is not satisfied
with superficial answers or technological slogans; he uses each answer to ask a new question, to refine a
concept, to dismantle a cliché, or to expose an ambiguity. In this way, what could have been a mere
curious experiment with a digital tool becomes a profound exploration of our time and of the way we think
about technology.
The initial axis of the dialogue revolves around a seemingly simple question:
is it legitimate to call a machine "intelligent" when it itself admits that it does not understand what it
is saying? Using concrete examples and very clear comparisons, the author shows how current AI works on
the basis of electrical operations, transistors, neural networks, and statistics, but has neither
consciousness, nor intentions, nor an inner world. It can simulate a dialogue, it can produce texts that
sound convincingly human, but it does so by recombining learned patterns, not by living or understanding.
The book insists again and again that confusing this simulation with real intelligence is a conceptual
error that can have serious practical consequences.
This idea becomes especially striking when
the story of ELIZA enters the scene, the first chatbot which, in the 1960s, simulated a conversation with
a psychotherapist. The people who interacted with it came to attribute understanding and empathy to it,
even though the program only bounced back their own sentences with a bit of formal cleverness. Casassas
recalls the surprise and anxiety of its creator, Joseph Weizenbaum, to show how inclined we are to
humanize machines when they answer us with a certain tone and fluency. At a time when current systems far
surpass that first experiment, the book invites us to ask what kinds of illusions we are willing to accept
and what risks this credulity entails.
From there, the conversation opens up towards the terrain
of ethics and responsibility. If an AI can give seemingly sensible advice about health, work,
relationships, or political decisions, what happens when someone follows it blindly? Who is responsible
for the outcome? The AI itself acknowledges that, without consciousness or will, it cannot assume moral
responsibility; the author replies that, in that case, we must look to the designers, the companies, and
the legal frameworks that make these tools available to everyone. The book puts its finger on the wound:
it is all too easy to take refuge in the idea that "the machine said so" in order to avoid the obligation
to critically examine what we do and decide.
This debate is linked to another delicate aspect:
the way AI is presented in the media and in public discourse. On the one hand, there is no shortage of
apocalyptic narratives that see in AI the prelude to the destruction of humanity. On the other hand, there
is a technological euphoria that promises an almost paradisiacal life, free of work and full of comfort,
thanks to algorithms. Casassas and Perplexity try to escape these two extremes and build a more serene
perspective: AI is a powerful tool, with enormous potential for both good and harm, and what we do with it
will depend above all on how we understand it and how we integrate it into our institutions, laws, and
habits.
One of the most thought-provoking chapters is the one that revolves around languages. The
author repeatedly asks the AI whether it answers just as well in Catalan as in English, and the machine
eventually admits that it does not: the quality of the answers depends on the quantity and richness of the
data available in each language. This opens up an uncomfortable debate: to what extent are we, without
realizing it, creating a world in which there are first-class languages, which have access to finer and
more complete answers, and second-class languages, condemned to poorer responses? The proposal of an
operative "internal language" – not designed for humans, but as a shared working space where all knowledge
is translated – appears as one possible way of facing this challenge. The book does not close the debate,
but it does pose it with a clarity that invites continuation.
In parallel, the dialogue delves
into the question of ethics as a condition of intelligence. Can we say that someone is intelligent if
their capacity to reason and calculate incorporates no consideration of good and evil? What distinguishes
a purely instrumental intelligence – able to find the most efficient means for any end – from what we
would call wisdom? Through direct questions, the author forces the AI to acknowledge that current systems
may imitate moral language, but they have no ethical foundation of their own; any "rules" they follow are
imposed from outside. The reader discovers, almost without realizing it, the boundary between technical
reason and moral responsibility.
Another guiding thread is the question as the engine of thought.
The book shows how the quality and precision of the answers depend to a great extent on how the question
is formulated, how much contextual information is included, and how far the interlocutor is willing to
keep asking, to insist, and not to be satisfied with the first plausible answer. This idea culminates in
an important claim: the answers generated by the AI are not only "its own", but the result of shared
authorship; without the creativity of the person asking, there would be no text. Reading this
conversation, the reader has the feeling of attending a mutual learning workshop, in which a human and a
machine, each from their own place, gradually refine one another.
All this unfolds in a style
that becomes increasingly careful and approachable as the book progresses. The author not only questions
the AI about concepts, but also asks it to improve its writing, to avoid repetitive formulas, and to adopt
a more fluid and humanly readable prose. The result is a text that combines conceptual rigor with an
enjoyable reading experience, often full of images and comparisons that make it easier to understand
technical issues without losing depth.
"Conversation with Perplexity" is not a book locked into a
single thesis; it is, above all, an invitation. An invitation to distrust both uncritical enthusiasm and
paralyzing fear, to look technology in the eye and to ask ourselves what the way we use it says about us.
The reader who immerses themselves in it will not only learn more about how these tools work, but will
probably come away wanting to ask many more questions of their own. And that is precisely what the book
seeks: not to deliver the final word, but to kindle the desire to keep thinking.