It was still early in the war. After four days of internet blackout — and, God knows, testing countless VPNs — I finally reached a stable enough connection to check my email. The last one was from a prestigious university in New York, where I was scheduled to begin my Ph.D. in the upcoming academic year. They had asked why I hadn’t confirmed my admission yet, warning that if I delayed any further, I might lose my spot. I responded politely that these nights I can’t sleep from the sounds of Israeli rockets landing right and left across my city, and that during the day, I’m constantly trying to make sure the many people I know across town are still alive. News that someone two oceans away was thinking about my fall plans felt like a comforting distraction. But truthfully — even if I had not been under rocket fire — the new travel restrictions against Iranian citizens would have made it impossible to attend that program anyway. I typed up a version of these sentiments, hit send, and then I stared at my phone screen, watching the VPN wheel spin, waiting for the email to leave “draft” status and finally be sent. The wait, of course, wasn’t short. As with all attempts at action during the days Tehran lost to war, it dragged on.
There's nothing Artificial about our Intelligence