By Alessandro Lopes
The other day, I walked through a square where no trees remained. In their place stood green-lacquered posts, with discreet sensors and a white light pulsing gently, as if breathing. They were called “technological trees,” capable of capturing tons of CO₂ with astonishing efficiency. No pruning. No watering. No soil. No falling leaves. No nests. No shade. Perfect—and precisely for that reason, incomplete.
Yet there was a void. A silence that felt less like peace and more like absence. Perhaps it was the missing scent of damp earth. Or the lack of rustling leaves and the wind’s playful dance with branches. Perhaps it was the absence of life as we’ve always known it—the kind that can’t be programmed or powered off.
They said this was the future. A clean, efficient, calculated one. Artificial trees made of steel, glass, and sensors, powered by solar or other promising energy sources. A new generation spread through the cities: liquid trees, made with oceanic algae blends, bubbling quietly inside transparent cylinders. They extract carbon with clinical precision. Beautiful, ethereal, and neutral in their perfection. They have no roots, but they offer USB ports to charge our phones running on nearly empty batteries. They pr…
Some of these inventions include small perches, so that—if any bird still dares to believe—it might nest there. Others release artificial fragrances at set intervals, mimicking the smell of rain-soaked soil, as if trying to soothe us from what we’ve lost. They play soft recordings of rustling leaves, captured in distant forests now digitized. The sound is beautiful. But it does not answer the wind.
And yes, let’s be clear: the efficiency of these structures is real and impressive. They ingeniously replicate what nature does effortlessly—only now, faster, more predictably, more efficiently. They are marvels of human ingenuity. A testament to what we can build when we set out to fix what we’ve broken.
I am not against innovation. On the contrary, I admire its power. I believe in intelligence applied to environmental care, in hybrid solutions, in the beauty that lies in weaving science with sensitivity. But I reserve the right to ask:
What are we truly planting when we abandon life’s unpredictability in favor of what we can control? Is technical perfection worth the loss of the soul?
Nature, after all, is disobedient. It grows where we don’t want it. Casts shade where we didn’t plan. It falls without warning. And maybe that’s why it’s so essential—because it reminds us we are not in control of everything.
Natural trees, with their stubborn roots and unruly branches, demand presence. They demand time. They are books you read with your eyes closed. Shelters of silence, bees, beginnings, and ends. And maybe that’s their true gift: to remind us that the world is not only an algorithm.
These technological creations can be useful. Even necessary, in certain contexts. But they are not enough.
Because technology may capture carbon. It may mimic the scent of the forest. It may even offer us a shadow in augmented reality. But it does not know what autumn is. It does not understand longing. It does not bloom by chance.
And perhaps, it is precisely in this crossing between branches and circuits that the Smart City reveals itself. Efficient, connected, calculated down to the last sensor. But in pursuing absolute control, it risks forgetting that true urban intelligence lies not only in code, but in the unpredictable life that pulses through its cracks.
A city is only truly smart when it learns from trees—natural or not—to coexist with the unforeseen. To shelter uncertainty. To grow roots of belonging and cast shadows of humanity.
Let us not settle for perfect cities. Let us strive for living ones, where progress does not silence the wind, nor the heart.
Alessandro Lopes is an architect and consultant in BIM/CIM and Smart Cities, with a master’s degree in Environmental Law from UNISANTOS, focusing on Creative and Sustainable Cities. He serves as an Advisor at the Municipality of Santos, leading urban revitalization and sustainability projects, and as Coordinator of the Architecture and Urbanism Program at ESAMC Santos, bridging education, market, and innovation. A specialist in project management and sustainability, he is a CBIM member, speaker, and commentator on radio and podcasts about innovation in civil construction. His key contributions include the modernization of Santos’ waterfront and restructuring the public administration’s quality and control sector.
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