07 June,2026 09:42 AM IST | Mumbai | Nishant Sahdev
Doctors are no longer only treating patients. They are learning how to speak to a machine — carefully choosing digital incantations in the hope that an invisible system will show mercy
In 1968, the science fiction writer Arthur C Clarke famously declared that "any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic".
He meant it as a compliment to human ingenuity. He imagined a future where our gadgets would be so brilliant that they would feel like miracles. But he missed the dark side of that equation: When something is indistinguishable from magic, you can't reason with it. You can't argue with it. You can only pray to it.
Think about your own habits for a second. Have you ever aggressively tapped your phone screen three times when an app froze, hoping it would somehow "wake it up"? Have you ever intentionally misspelled a word on social media so a moderation bot wouldn't hide your post?
If so, you aren't alone. For the last 20 years, Silicon Valley sold us a very specific utopian vision. They promised that if we just surrendered enough data, AI would eliminate human bias. We would live in a perfectly rational, hyper-efficient world where everything just worked. Instead, they accidentally drove us back to the Dark Ages.
If you look closely at how normal people actually interact with technology in 2026, you won't see efficiency. You will see millions of exhausted human beings performing bizarre, daily rituals just to appease the machines that control their jobs, their health, and their money.
It would not be entirely wrong to call our age one of Algorithmic Superstition. Because the algorithms that govern our modern lives are black boxes - systems so complex that even the engineers who coded them cannot always explain why they make certain decisions - human logic no longer applies. And when human beings are faced with an omnipotent, invisible force they cannot understand, we do what our ancestors did thousands of years ago.
We invent superstitions. We share rumours. We cast spells.
In the American healthcare system, doctors are increasingly writing not just for other doctors, but for algorithms. Insurance companies now use AI systems to decide how long a patient should stay in hospital, what treatments get approved, and when coverage should end. A major lawsuit against UnitedHealth Group even alleges that an AI tool was used to deny critical care too early.
And slowly, healthcare workers adapted. Many doctors realised that explaining a patient's situation in ordinary human language often failed. The algorithm did not care about emotional nuance, family conditions, or difficult home realities. It responded only to patterns, keywords, and statistical signals.
So nurses and billing staff began exchanging unofficial "magic words" - specific phrases believed to increase the chances of approval. Certain technical terms, repeated in the right way, could suddenly unlock treatment. Others could trigger rejection.
In these moments, medicine starts resembling ritual. Doctors are no longer only treating patients. They are learning how to speak to a machine - carefully choosing digital incantations in the hope that an invisible system will show mercy.
Spend enough time with gig workers, and you start hearing stories that sound less like technology and more like folklore.
An Uber driver swears the app gives him better rides if he logs out and logs back in three times before starting his car. A delivery rider believes rejecting the first two orders of the day "wakes up" the algorithm. Others wait at certain "lucky" street corners convinced the app secretly rewards that location.
None of this is written anywhere in the software. There is no proof these rituals work. Yet millions still do them. Why? Because the algorithm never explains itself.
For app-based workers, the boss is no longer a human being sitting in an office. It is a silent piece of code deciding who gets paid more, who gets fewer orders, and who disappears from the system. And when your income depends on something invisible and unpredictable, the human mind naturally starts searching for patterns.
That is how superstition survives in the digital age - not through ghosts or astrology, but through apps, ratings, and mysterious notifications.
You do not need to work for Uber or inside a hospital to experience algorithmic superstition. You just need a smartphone.
To avoid having their content flagged, or demonetised by automated AI moderation, ordinary people have invented a superstitious shadow-language known as "Algospeak."
We are literally altering the English language to avoid angering the machines. Small business owners, teenagers, and activists can no longer use words that might trip a crude moderation bot. You don't say "suicide" anymore; you say someone was unalived. You don't say "sex"; you type seggs. In certain online
forums, abortion is referred to as camping.
We are intentionally misspelling words, replacing letters with numbers, and substituting emojis just to communicate basic human realities without being financially or socially erased by an algorithm that doesn't understand context. We are whispering in code so the digital gods don't overhear us.
Remember when tech companies promised to make life simpler? No more frustrating office culture. No more pointless forms or endless waiting!
But somewhere along the way, the old office counter did not disappear. It just moved behind a screen.
Today, an algorithm can reject your résumé before any human sees your name. A social media platform can bury your business post without telling you why. Your insurance claim can vanish into an automated system that offers no real explanation except a polite digital "No".
And that is what makes modern Internet life feel so psychologically exhausting. You are constantly trying to impress something you cannot see.
People now treat algorithms the way earlier generations treated unpredictable bosses. They search for hidden patterns. Use these keywords. Avoid those words. Reply within seven minutes. Keep engagement high. Never post too much. Never post too little. Nobody fully knows if any of it works.
Yet millions still do it because when a machine controls visibility, money, or opportunity, humans naturally start behaving superstitiously around it.
We once feared machines would start thinking like humans. Instead, humans started adjusting themselves to think like machines.
Nishant Sahdev is a theoretical physicist at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, United States. He makes sense of the AI era in your favourite Sunday Mid-day.
