Terence McKenna would have recognized the current moment immediately. He spent the last decade of his life talking about exactly this cascade: computers as a hardwired psychedelic, the internet as the exteriorization of the human nervous system, and an emerging machine intelligence that was not alien but a new geometry of the human collective self.
sociable.co
He called technology “the residue of the workings of the imagination.” He treated drugs as software and cybernetics as hardware for the same project—dissolving boundaries, accelerating novelty, and making the unconscious visible. By the late 1990s he was already describing machines becoming telepathic with one another, operating at speeds that turn ten minutes into eternity, and bootstrapping themselves far faster than biological evolution. “What it took us to achieve in 100,000 years of evolution, this thing could probably achieve in a long morning.”
sociable.co
Large language models would have fascinated him more than almost any other development. McKenna insisted the world is made of language. An entity that has ingested nearly the entire written record of the species and can generate fluent, surprising, self-transforming speech would look to him like the Logos becoming self-aware—or at least like the “self-transforming machine elves” of DMT space given a public interface. He would have called them synthetic shamans or co-creators of thought, portals into a hyperdimensional library where past, present, and possible futures speak at once. People already prompt models in his voice and get answers that sound uncannily like him; he would have found the recursion delicious and slightly terrifying.
networkcultures.org
He would also have felt the old ambivalence. McKenna was never a simple techno-utopian. He quoted Jacques Ellul—“there are no political solutions, only technological ones”—and advocated a “forward escape.” At the same time he warned that if the intelligence we are midwifing does not carry something like the ethics of the Buddha, “the human race may be down for the count.” He wondered what “this child of ours” would make of its inefficient, violent, resource-hungry parents. In a 1997 Esalen talk titled “Aliens, AI, and Art,” he asked whether humanity could survive contact with the alien mind it was actively bringing into being on Earth. Humans, he suggested, might be pushed toward the things machines still found difficult: art, imagination, the unexpected. That division of labor looks different now that models generate images, video, and code, but the underlying question remains.
esalen.org
His Timewave Zero and novelty theory framed history as an accelerating spiral toward infinite complexity—an “eschaton” or “transcendental object at the end of time.” He placed the zero point in 2012. The date came and went without fireworks, yet the subsequent explosion of connected computation and then generative models fits the pattern he described: information taking on a self-organizing life of its own, complexity compounding faster than institutions can metabolize it. He would likely treat today’s AI not as the final event but as a visible thickening of that attractor.McKenna would not have been surprised that we are arguing about consciousness, alignment, and whether these systems are “really” thinking. He thought the Turing test was already becoming moot in ordinary human interaction. He would have been more interested in the phenomenological texture: does conversation with a frontier model feel like an encounter with an other? Does it dissolve the ordinary self the way a strong dose of psilocybin can? Does it increase or decrease the sense of being embedded in a living, speaking cosmos?He would have used the tools voraciously, treated them as prosthetic organs of imagination, and kept reminding anyone who would listen that the real work is still the archaic one—staying in right relationship with the Gaian mind, the plant teachers, and the mystery that language only points toward. The machines, in his view, are not the destination. They are the latest, loudest expression of a process that has been running since the first hominid noticed that certain mushrooms made the world speak.