Some have called us crazy: that we insist on going against the tide. That the first jobs artificial intelligence will take from us will be those of the scribes. We are not worried about losing our uniqueness, nor of losing work.<\/p>\n
Because there is something that AI is still far from being able to take from us: the ability to tell stories based on experience and emotion. Etymology supports us: narrator comes from gn\u0101rus<\/strong>, “one who has seen.”<\/p>\n Storytelling makes us human. We narrate for survival. In literature, but also in trials, in politics, at medical conferences, in bars, in the line at the fish market, in our dreams and those of others.<\/p>\n We do not recount what has happened just to inform on it, we do it to give it meaning. We need tales that allow us to explain the inexplicable. We are stories made of flesh and bone.<\/p>\n And here is where the science comes in. Or at least the consulting.<\/p>\n The chosen tone, the cadence, the order of events, the weight of the words. The nuances, the interpreted fact. The story wrapped, caressed.<\/p>\n If information attends to the facts, narration attends to the art of expressing them. To that artisanal work that has little or nothing to do with immediacy, consumption at x1.5, or “the three foolproof recipes to reach your audience.” As Esquirol says, “the culture that reduces everything to facts and data is a shortsighted culture and, therefore, decadent.”<\/p>\n At Harmon, we have a certain predilection for a reality that is well-told. We narrate stories both in pitches and in our office kitchen at coffee time. We would be lying if we said we do not want to narrate yours.<\/p>\n Therefore, we offer you a new narrative service<\/strong>, supported by a specialist team, led by Laura Zamarriego, who, besides reading and writing, wants to help those who believe in the non-market.<\/p>\n