Leonard Pike Knew This Was Going To Happen
Leonard Pike did not set out to predict the downfall of thinking. He just noticed it slipping out the side door while everyone was applauding a new app.
Leonard was the kind of man who still said things like “let me think about that” and meant it. This alone made him suspicious. He lived in a modest house with too many books, all of which had been read and argued with. He kept notebooks filled with half-finished ideas, questions he didn’t yet know how to answer, and grocery lists that occasionally turned into philosophy.
Leonard believed thinking was a muscle. Everyone else seemed to believe it was a background app.
Observations About Leonard Pike and the Downfall of Thinking
- Leonard Pike is the only man who still says “let me think about that” and genuinely means he will return in several minutes with a revised position and mild regret.
- Leonard discovered thinking became suspicious the moment silence started making people reach for their phones like they were checking a pulse.
- Modern curiosity lasts exactly long enough for Wi-Fi to load, after which it is replaced by confidence and a vague sense of accomplishment.
- People no longer argue to be right; they argue to finish first so they can emotionally move on.
- Leonard noticed that “doing your own research” now means skimming a headline while standing in line and trusting the vibes.
- The human brain used to store memories, opinions, and directions; now it mostly stores passwords it immediately forgets.
- Thinking has become so inefficient that it is now treated like a personality defect or a hobby that should not be done at work.
- Meetings are no longer about ideas but about seeing who speaks first so everyone else knows what to agree with.
- Certainty is louder than curiosity, which explains why the least thoughtful people now sound the most confident.
- Leonard’s greatest crime was admitting he might be wrong, which made everyone else uncomfortable because it delayed lunch.
The First Signs, Which Leonard Was Polite Enough To Ignore At First
Leonard first sensed trouble at a family dinner. Someone asked why the sky was blue. Before Leonard could enjoy the question, three phones were out, answers were read aloud, and the conversation moved on. Nobody asked if the answer made sense. Nobody wondered why blue won. The question had been killed efficiently.
Leonard smiled, nodded, and quietly mourned.
He began noticing that questions were no longer invitations but inconveniences. Silence felt awkward now, like a technical error. People filled it instantly with facts, opinions, or noise, anything to avoid the terrible sensation of not knowing for a moment.
Leonard wrote in his notebook: “Curiosity has been replaced by customer service.”
Leonard Tries To Explain Himself, Badly
Leonard did try to warn people. Not dramatically. He wasn’t that kind of man. He mentioned it casually, which was his first mistake.
He said things like, “I worry we’re confusing access to information with understanding.” This did not go well. People heard it as criticism, which required thinking, which they resented.
At work, Leonard was told he “overthought things.” This was said the way one might accuse someone of leaving the milk out. Meetings moved quickly. Decisions were made confidently and reversed later with equal confidence. Leonard learned that hesitation was now a personality flaw.
What Leonard Meant By “Thinking,” Since That Had Become Necessary
Leonard defined thinking as the uncomfortable middle part. Not the question, and not the answer, but the wandering stretch in between where ideas bump into each other and occasionally fall down the stairs.
Thinking, to Leonard, involved doubt. It involved changing your mind without announcing it. It involved saying “I don’t know” and not rushing to repair the damage.
Reaction was easier. Reaction felt productive. Reaction came with notifications.
Evidence Leonard Collected Like A Weary Naturalist
Leonard kept noticing things.
He watched people argue passionately about articles they had not finished reading. He watched adults defer to children because the children “knew technology.” He watched conversations become competitive speed trials to the most confident conclusion.
A barista told Leonard she listened to audiobooks at double speed because normal speed felt “judgy.” A manager confessed, off the record, that brainstorming now meant repeating the first idea with different enthusiasm levels.
Leonard’s sister admitted she didn’t trust her own opinions unless she saw them echoed online. “Just to make sure I’m right,” she said. Leonard wrote: “Outsourced certainty.”
Experts Leonard Quoted To Anyone Who Would Stand Still
A neuroscientist told Leonard that the brain optimizes for efficiency, not wisdom. A productivity coach argued that deep thinking was a luxury market. A philosopher Leonard met at a conference said thinking used to be dangerous. Now it was just inconvenient.
Leonard nodded at all of it, which again, did not trend.
Leonard’s Unpopular Deduction
Leonard’s conclusion was simple and therefore ignored.
If thinking takes time, and time feels expensive, thinking becomes optional. If it’s optional, it becomes suspicious. If it’s suspicious, it becomes a punchline.
People would not stop thinking because they were stupid. They would stop because they were busy.
Leonard underlined that sentence twice.
The Cruel Irony Leonard Couldn’t Stop Noticing
As thinking declined, certainty exploded.
Leonard noticed people were more confident than ever, despite knowing less and checking more. Doubt had become a branding problem. Everyone had a take. No one had a pause.
Opinions were borrowed, returned, replaced. Conversations became rehearsals. Listening turned into waiting for your turn to speak louder.
Leonard once said, “I might be wrong,” and the room went quiet, as if he’d spoken in Latin.
Leonard’s Genuinely Helpful, Thoroughly Ignored Advice
Leonard did not believe in yelling. He believed in small repairs.
He suggested sitting with a question for five minutes before answering. He suggested reading things that annoyed you without live-tweeting the experience. He suggested boredom as resistance training for the mind.
He suggested being wrong quietly, which turned out to be the least popular suggestion of all.
Thinking, Leonard insisted, was not about being smarter. It was about being slower on purpose.
What The Funny People Are Saying About Leonard, Indirectly
“I don’t mind thinking. I just hate when it interrupts my confidence.” — Jerry Seinfeld
“People say ‘do your own research’ like it’s a fun weekend activity.” — Ron White
“If thinking were rewarded, we’d all pretend to do it.” — Amy Schumer
Where Leonard Ended Up, Which Was Predictable
Leonard eventually stopped warning people. Not out of bitterness. Out of pattern recognition.
He still thinks. He still writes. He still sits with questions longer than is socially comfortable. He has learned to do this quietly, like a hobby that doesn’t photograph well.
Some say Leonard retired. Others say he simply blended into the background, which is where thinking now lives.
His prediction didn’t arrive with alarms or headlines. It arrived gently, every time someone said, “I don’t have time to think about that,” and meant it.
Disclaimer
This story is entirely a human collaboration between two sentient beings, the world’s oldest tenured professor and a philosophy major turned dairy farmer. No machines were consulted, accused, or credited. Leonard Pike is not fictional so much as unavoidable.
Auf Wiedersehen.
Mei Lin Chen is a student writer whose satire explores identity, modern culture, and social nuance. Her work reflects academic curiosity and engagement with London’s diverse perspectives.
Expertise is growing through study and practice, while trust is supported by clear intent and responsible humour.
