Office for Unusable Ideas follows a clear developmental logic that leads the project from simulation to biological realization. Delphi 1 was a fully AI-controlled closed loop: sensors captured movement, light, and sound in the space, Delphi processed this data and translated it into physical reactions, while the CO₂ incubator and the MEA system stood as sculptural placeholders for a still-absent biological core. Here the mind-clone was pure data simulation, an algorithmic reconstruction of an absent person from their correspondence, diaries, and archives.

Delphi 2 replaces this placeholder with a living computing element. Human iPSC neurons are cultured on a multi-electrode array and integrated into the existing circuit: the stimulation patterns generated by Delphi are sent through an STG stimulus generator to the MEA plate, the neuronal network processes these stimuli in a chaotic, non-deterministic way, and the resulting activity is read out in real time, prepared through feature extraction for a reservoir-like processing, and fed back into the control system. With this, a biohybrid loop closes, in which not only code but living tissue takes part in the reaction of the space. Conceptually, this marks the transition from pure data simulation to a possible form of biological cognition: the mind-clone is no longer a data-based reflection of the past, but an organic, partially learning presence. The digital system gains a body, and the memory that emerges here is at once computational and biological.

Delphi 3 carries this logic consistently further and forms the speculative horizon of the work. The strongest form of embodiment would be reached if the organoid were obtained, through stem cell technology, from the cells of the simulated person themselves. Such a digital-biological twin would not be a copy made of data, but a material and experiential continuation of a specific person, able to learn and to develop over time. The mind-clone would become a second life, bound to new relationships. This stage cannot be realized alone; it requires a serious interdisciplinary collaboration with non-artistic partners from the neurosciences and is pursued as a long-term research undertaking, not as mere illustration.

With each stage, the questions the project negotiates grow sharper. When living material becomes a computing resource, its instrumentalization and its status are up for debate. Ray Kurzweil's description of DNA as the smallest natural computer is taken literally here: the ability to write and revise the biological script is no longer merely a scientific but a civilizational question. In a speculative future, such twins could acquire a legal status, be recognized as a kind of testamentary self, become part of family structures, or help physicians anticipate neurodegenerative diseases. At the center remain two questions: what constitutes real consciousness, and what remains of the human being when they are dissolved into data, into cells, into reflections, and then recomposed in a new form? Contemporary biological research no longer positions the human being as the outcome of natural history, but as its designer, and precisely at this threshold, where the work begins to live, Office for Unusable Ideas situates its ethical confrontation.