No, the plane doesn’t have AI
And that opens up more interesting questions than the ones it tries to answer
Somewhere between boarding and takeoff on a flight from Madrid to Buenos Aires, in the middle of that familiar ritual of jammed luggage, blocked aisles, and collective impatience, a man a few rows ahead threw a comment into the air:
“This plane doesn’t have AI.”
He said it with frustration, like that explained everything going wrong. As if artificial intelligence could somehow untangle the deeply human act of boarding a crowded airplane.
It stuck with me, not because the comment was particularly sharp, but because it reveals a certain anxiety: the growing expectation that everything should already be solved, optimized, automated.
But… what if not?
What if something as mundane as getting on a plane doesn’t need more tech, but more attention to what’s already happening?
That question didn’t stay up in the air. In fact, that flight had everything to do with it.
I wasn’t flying to Buenos Aires to implement tools or talk about infrastructure. I was traveling to join a public conversation about possible futures; futures designed not by algorithms or startups, but by institutions, collectives, and the State itself.
That article (a natural companion to this one) captures what happened when we asked an unusual but timely question:
What if the State designed futures?
Not through traditional planning, but through speculative thinking, imagining, and enabling scenarios that don’t yet fit in a spreadsheet.
So that man’s comment takes on a different weight. Maybe the real discomfort isn’t that the plane doesn’t have AI.
Maybe it’s that whenever something feels unresolved, the only solution we seem to imagine is “more tech.”
What if not everything needs AI?
There’s a growing impulse to believe that if something’s slow, awkward, or messy, the solution must be a smarter system. AI becomes the shortcut we reach for: a universal fix to human friction.
We want AI to optimize boarding lines, predict luggage patterns, and soothe social discomfort. But that logic of constant optimization blinds us to something more valuable: the ability to observe, interpret, and reimagine experiences from a human perspective.
I work with AI every day. I use it in creative projects, strategic thinking, and speculative design. I also teach it. In another article, Teaching AI to UX Designers, I offer an approach that doesn’t start with hype or solutions, but with the questions worth asking.
Because I’m not interested in using AI to fix what doesn’t work.
I’m interested in what happens when we use it to imagine differently.
To open up processes. To explore detours.
What if we imagined first, and picked tools second?
In my work, I don’t begin by asking “How can I plug AI into this?”
I start with “What if…?”
- What if this process worked differently?
- What if we used another lens?
- What if the problem isn’t the problem?
That’s where AI sometimes enters the picture, not as a savior, but as a material. A speculative device. A model for rehearsal. A way to generate unexpected moves.
Sometimes it helps. Sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes it just reminds me that the question was never about technology to begin with.
Even when I do use it, I’m not chasing efficiency. I’m looking for tension, deviation, friction; the kind that leads to new insight. And I’ve learned this too:
not all questions require an AI-shaped answer.
What if the issue isn’t tech, but expectation?
Back to the plane: the chaos of boarding wasn’t a technical glitch. It was a collective situation, full of overlapping behaviors, constrained spaces, and shared fatigue.
What we’re seeing more and more is not failure, but misaligned expectations. We keep imagining that the solution to discomfort is always technical, when often, it’s structural, cultural, or just deeply human.
Progress isn’t just adding sensors or predictive models. Sometimes, it’s about slowing down. Reframing. Re-seeing the ordinary.
What if the chaotic boarding process isn’t a problem to automate but an opportunity to redesign how we move together?
What if that future doesn’t need to be smarter but more sensitive, more thoughtful?
What if the future isn’t intelligent, but intentional?
We’re used to thinking of the future as fully optimized: sleek interfaces, predictive assistants, decisions delegated to machines.
But there’s another future available to us. One where AI isn’t the center, but simply one tool among many. A future shaped by imagination, not default automation.
A future where we design with questions first.
Where we speculate with care.
Where tech supports, but doesn’t dictate.
That kind of future (more ordinary, less spectacular) is the one I’m interested in designing, teaching, and inhabiting.
And yes, this article includes AI (just not the way you think)
I used AI in the process, yes. To test out different structures. To shift tone. To explore phrasing. But not to outsource the thinking. On the contrary, I used it as a way to think differently.
I don’t write to solve.
I write to open.
And if you’ve read this far, chances are, you do too.
Nicolás Bronzina is a strategic foresight and futures design specialist with a social sciences and user experience design background. His work intersects speculative research, strategic innovation, and climate resilience.
As co-founder of Heated Studio, he leads projects that transform climate resilience research into actionable frameworks and tangible prototypes. He helps organizations navigate uncertainty with evidence-based methodologies. He also collaborates with Fabien Girardin, exploring emerging trends and speculative scenarios that challenge established norms. He integrates generative intelligence and immersive narratives to visualize alternative futures.
His multidisciplinary approach combines qualitative analysis, speculative design, and participatory methodologies to turn weak signals into concrete strategies. From urban adaptation to technological foresight, his work transforms uncertainty into opportunity.
His work offers an alternative to Argentina’s culture of improvisation. It advocates for developing concrete tools to anticipate and shape the country’s future.
For more information about his work and publications, visit nicolasbronzina.com.
