In the early hours of January 3, 2026, when President Donald Trump announced that socialist dictator Nicolás Maduro had been captured, Venezuelans in exile celebrated as if it were a second New Year’s Eve. But the joy was not limited to that community, it also extended to the Cuban community. With the jubilation came a feeling almost banished for those who suffer under tyrannies: hope. The hope for change in Cuba has surged, with the fall of the Chavista dictator whose continuous oil shipments kept Havana afloat.

Expectations have multiplied these days, after Mike Hammer, the U.S. ambassador to the island, met with the interim Commander of the Southern Command. Comments on social media attest to the euphoria of the moment experienced by Cubans everywhere. “Death to Communism in our hemisphere. Where we no longer have to emigrate because there are criminals in power exporting drugs and anti-Americanism,” posted Idabell Rosales, a Cuban cultural promoter in Miami who founded the VISTA Independent Art and Literature Festival. From the island, essayist Jorge Núñez commented: “Excellent. More pressure against the regime.”

To the free expression in that ethereal and influential space created by social media is added the use of a tool that promises to change the world: generative artificial intelligence (AI). Many Cubans are using it for something that might seem trivial, but which is in fact an exercise in political imagination through videos, memes, and images.

Ordinary Cubans imagine the Havana of the future with the help of AI, by contrast. From current images depicting dirty streets, dilapidated buildings, and ruined public spaces, to a mirage that remakes the spaces with modern elements of steel and glass.

In the videos where this digital reconstruction and modernization of the city takes place, the patrimonial distinctions inherited from Hispanic culture are maintained. But new skyscrapers dwarf those built in the 1950s. The azure sea in front of Havana Bay fills with boats and yachts, and the nautical miles between the reef at the foot of the Malecón and the rest of the world are no longer off-limits to fishermen and residents. The city no longer turns its back on the sea.

Other very popular images are those in which, thanks to AI, the symbols of the Revolution are subverted. For example, Donald Trump’s face replaces the iconic sculpture of the guerrilla fighter Ernesto Guevara in front of the Plaza de la Revolución — a new hero of independence for a new future Cuba. The hope of Trump as Liberator.

In creative fields, AI can act as a tireless partner for brainstorming, a generator of initial drafts, a tool for exploring stylistic variations, or a means to automate laborious aspects of production — such as audiovisual editing. Thus, the technology could potentially empower people who lack the traditional know-how or resources to bring their ideas to life.

Such is the case of the rapper Michael Marichal, a skilled music producer, whose viral AI-generated videos address the reality and fantasies surrounding the island with humor at the forefront. The exile imagines the powerlessness of the Castro regime’s military against the power of the U.S. forces: a supposed military operation on Cuba, Venezuelan style, in which the American soldiers mock the outdated Castroist military tactics; Cuban recruits running terrified as soon as they see the Delta troops arrive; communists marching and repeating slogans, but not with a victorious tone, but with rhymes that ridicule them.

The materials produced with AI highlight imagination and hope sprinkled with humor in hundreds of posts these days. AI has emerged to gather, reconstruct, or give a different ending to harsh injustices under Cuban socialism. In 2024, the writer José Gabriel Barrenechea was arrested for participating in protests during a power outage that lasted more than 48 continuous hours in Encrucijada, a town in the center of the island. His mother, Zoila, a frail 83-year-old woman, was dying of cancer alone; Barrenechea was her only caregiver. She begged the military to let her see her son before she died. The independent press amplified her plea, which was echoed by thousands of Cubans on social media. But she received only a cold silence in return.

Zoila died in May 2025. She did not enjoy her son’s embrace; she lacked his hand and company in her final moments. The scene, imagined by many behind the news headlines at the time, captivated artists who produced a video using AI for a civic initiative, which reimagined the ending of that story.

The scene is simple, yet powerful. In a hyperrealistic embrace, Zoila and Barrenechea hold each other tightly. After a few seconds, the woman and the political prisoner slowly separate, until they return to two distinct images, the original images the artist worked with. In both, they look at the camera, at the viewer and the reader, who, after the embrace, finally receive a measure of solace.