Dear Readers,

My first spring at KAIST was two years ago. I was waiting in line outside the main auditorium to take my PCR test, wearing a KF-80 mask under the March air that still bore a tinge of coldness. It was that time in history when, unbeknownst to the whole world, a virus stole the stage spotlight, bloomed and flourished uncontrollably, bringing with it a period of prolonged isolation and uncertainty for everyone. Lost high school graduation trip plans, the anticlimactic transition to university, dreary first-year online lectures, and being paranoid about physically interacting with others made me resentful and yearning to live as we had before. It seems unreal that it has only been a year since Korea stopped classifying COVID-19 as a health emergency, and a bit longer since we’ve regained our offline dashes. Comparing now to two years ago, every ordinary day feels like something to be thankful for, despite the minor inconveniences from the returning seasonal flu. 

Sometimes our energy soars up to a maximum point and inflates us with unfounded confidence that we could do anything. We try to make the most out of our limited hours by filling them with learning, experiences and friendships while resolving to keep our grit during times of exhaustion. I, like many other KAIST students at the start of every semester, made the mistake of adding excessively to my timetable again. Even though I always value the idea of being “human”, at times I find myself acting more like a bot, putting utmost and only priority on running tasks with high performance, speed and minimal energy usage. Still, there are more occasions when I zone out or daydream, forget names and reminders instantaneously, and ride away on the tide of emotions. To be “human”, with all its honesty, sounds vaguely virtuous and meaningful, but it is more complex than we imagine. No matter how much we contemplate, what it means to be a “good human being” will remain a lifelong question and dilemma. 

AI continues to develop at a dizzying rate, some of which even claim to be able to mimic and adopt human emotions. But nothing can be more lively, and nothing more can remind us that we are alive other than the intricate feelings that come and go through our facial muscles and also diffuse into the senses of other people around us. We observe and notice the smallest changes in the expressions or voices of our family and friends that cause us to check on their wellbeing, provide comfort, and share our minds — it is the values we earn from those exact experiences that melt into our lives and sustain them. 

Pubao, the Everland Giant Panda that will be transferred back to China this April, has brought joy and happiness to many visitors, just like what her name symbolizes. The real element that has given rise to her popularity is the pure love and affection between Pubao and her keepers built on deep mutual trust, which has touched and healed the hearts of many. On the other end, it’s also only natural for us to respond with frustration to unreasonable situations such as the R&D budget cut, and with remorse and desperation when the voices of researchers on the scientific frontline are silenced. It is nothing but a part of being human. 

Every day since the post-COVID peak in digital growth, more and more people appear to be connected to their virtual presence, endlessly exchanging information and seeking new updates from others on social media. However, we must remember that most of us are in fact more immersed in living our own lives, pursuing goals and doing what we enjoy at our individual paces. I wish you all a joyful spring filled with new resolutions and making connections with those around you through these “human” emotions. 

Chaeyeon Ryu

Editor-in-Chief