Think about it. Before it’s too late...
In a bright corner of the future, Elon Musk promises the unthinkable: connecting the human brain to a computer, restoring lost functions, curing degenerative diseases, expanding memory, merging biology and machine. Neuralink presents itself as a medical revolution, a master key to overcoming our limitations. But every revolution comes at a price, and the uncomfortable question is: who will pay it?
Who will be the first human to offer their mind as a testing ground? Who will surrender their brain — their identity, their memory, their story — to the scalpel of innovation? It certainly won’t be a Silicon Valley millionaire or a Neuralink executive. It will be someone vulnerable: an Alzheimer’s patient, a desperate quadriplegic, a broken soul seeking hope — or perhaps someone who simply cannot refuse the tempting offer of easy money in exchange for their body.
We are sold the heroic narrative of the pioneer: the brave soul who risks everything for the good of humanity. But history, if viewed without romanticism, is full of involuntary martyrs — guinea pigs convinced they were signing up for salvation, not tragedy.
The brain is not a faulty machine that can be repaired with a chip. It is a delicate ecosystem, where thoughts, emotions, and memories intertwine in a way that cannot be replicated. What happens if the experiment fails? What happens if the first volunteer wakes up with memory lapses, personality changes, intrusive thoughts, or uncontrollable delusions? Will they be offered apologies? Compensation? Or a quiet erasure in the footnotes of a technical report?
Ethics in this field cannot be a press release or a contract signed under duress. It is not enough for the volunteer to accept the risks. Some risks cannot be understood until they are lived. How can anyone truly consent to altering their life forever without knowing what that new life will look like?
And even if everything goes well — if Neuralink’s device restores mobility or retrieves memories erased by Alzheimer’s — deeper dilemmas will emerge: What about mental privacy? Who will guarantee that the data of thoughts, impulses, memories, and emotions won’t be used, sold, or manipulated? Do we really believe that human greed will stop at the threshold of the skull?
The desperation of the sick, the ambition of corporations, and the blind worship of technology form an explosive mixture. And amid that cocktail, human dignity risks becoming yet another invisible, disposable victim.
Some will defend this advance by saying someone must go first, that every step forward demands sacrifice. True. But it is equally true that there are ways to progress — and ways to trample. The first step toward a truly human future is not the rush to implant cables in others’ brains, but an unwavering respect for those who, in their vulnerability, become “ideal candidates” for experimentation.
Science and medicine must dream, of course. But dreams that forget human fragility are doomed to become nightmares.
This is not a call to reject technological advancement. It is a call to ask: who bears the risks, and who reaps the profits? Who faces an uncertain — perhaps worse — future, and who pockets the rising stock values?
Neuralink offers fascinating possibilities, yes. But it also exposes, once again, humanity’s old temptation to view the most vulnerable not as people, but as testing platforms. And in that uncomfortable mirror, we would do well to look carefully before applauding any new technological milestone.
Because the future does not only depend on what we can do. It depends, above all, on what we are willing to allow.
Think about it. Before it’s too late.