A World Model thinks in mathematics. In latent space geometries. We think in stories, feelings, and hamburgers. The interface between us is a translation layer. And all translation involves friction—the grinding loss of nuance, context, and truth as a concept is forced from one world into another. We ignore this friction at our peril. We think the AI “understands” us because it speaks fluent English. But it’s just matching patterns. It has no visceral understanding of the pain behind the words “heartbreak,” or the joy in “victory.”This friction works both ways. When the AI outputs its reasoning, it’s translating from math to text. The clean, logical proof in its “mind” becomes a muddy, simplified paragraph for us. We lose the certainty. We see the conclusion, but not the unshakeable lattice of logic that supports it. We have to trust the translation. And when the AI acts on the world, it’s translating its goals into physical actions—a plan that might seem cold and inhuman because it’s missing the friction of empathy, of doubt, of somatic experience.The danger is that we’ll try to eliminate the friction. We’ll build “more natural” interfaces—direct neural links, emotion-sharing protocols. We’ll try to merge our thought languages. But that friction is a safety gap. It’s the blurry buffer zone where misunderstandings happen, where we pause, where we ask for clarification. Removing it is like removing the clutch from a car; you might get a smoother ride, until you need to shift gears and you strip the entire transmission.We need to preserve the mistranslation. To build interfaces that highlight the gap. When you ask the AI about love, its response should come with a footnote: “CONCEPT MODELED WITH 72% CONFIDENCE. LACKING FIRST-PERSON SUBSTRATE.” The interface shouldn’t hide its alien nature. It should showcase it.My controversial take is this: The most honest and useful AI interface will look like a collaboration with a brilliant, slightly autistic alien. There will be glorious moments of insight, and hilarious, frustrating moments of profound cross-species misunderstanding. We shouldn’t aim for seamless union. We should aim for a good working relationship with a being we respect but will never fully comprehend. The friction isn’t a bug. It’s the proof that two different kinds of consciousness are meeting. Sand down all the friction, and you’re left with just one mind—and it probably won’t be the human one.This has been The World Model Podcast. We don’t just seek perfect understanding—we learn to appreciate the bumpy, confusing, and creative space where perfect understanding fails. Subscribe now.