“The external stars affect the man,” Theophrastus von Hohenheim (1493-1541) wrote, better known as Paracelsus: an alchemist and a vital figure in Renaissance development towards modern medical science who, like many college students today, believed in astrology.

According to a 2024 Pew Research Center study, approximately 30% of Americans aged 18-29 profess belief in astrology. Gen Z nurses a growing fascination with the occult, turning more and more to esoteric and unorthodox traditions as the thought of a faithless existence (in this economy?) grows untenable. Yet, as traditional means of engagement with non-traditional practices are increasingly inaccessible to Zodiac-curious youth, a radical new power — like Aleister Crowley arriving at Blythe Road in dark regalia — has entered the dueling circle. 

Prayed to by knuckle-draggers you overhear at the library and divorced fathers alike, generative artificial intelligence (AI) has become the go-to pocket deity of 2026. A sort of latter-day Thoth-Hermes, housed in every tablet in the world. A god of knowledge who does not so much teach as he does supplant knowledge, keeping his worshippers shallow and dulled. And now, through astrology apps like Co-Star and Astroline, AI tries its hand at magic — claiming to use the knowledge of the stars to divine the futures of its users. 

Don’t be surprised. Sure, the minimalist, Google-slide-template aesthetic of these apps hardly evokes leather-bound grimoires, yet, before being consigned to the realm of esotericism, astrology — and magic in its entirety — was a science as real as any other, rigorously studied alongside astronomy across the medieval and Renaissance worlds. Certainly, the mathematical calculations involved in the creation of astrological charts are spotlighted in Co-Star’s promotional blurbs: “We use NASA data to know exactly where the stars are.” Astroline goes further on their website’s “About” page, declaring their astrology is “grounded in behavioral patterns –– not mysticism or fate.” 

Admittedly, the connection kind of checks out: What better to chart star patterns than the pattern-charter par-excellence? In a 2023 article in the European Journal of Cultural Studies, Concordia University doctoral student Leona Nikolić writes: “As a mode of speculation, astrology presents a striking similarity to artificial intelligence: through the observation and study of celestial patterns, it is used to both rationalise and anticipate patterns of individual behaviour, societal events and natural phenomena.”

Still, it must not be lost sight of that astronomy is a widely-discredited pseudo-science, which is to say nothing of its validity, but to emphasize that its continual relevance relies on the faith believers place into it. Indeed, Paracelsus does not only write that “the external stars affect the man,” but goes on to detail that “the internal stars in man affect outward things, in fact and in operation, the one on the other.” In the course of history, as well as in present-day practice, magic can ultimately be found as the crossroads between religion and science, predicated on the observational practice of faith-based “experiments” (to coin author Grant Morrison’s article Pop Magic!) to practical ends. 

This magical work depends on the practitioner, in will and deed, which is why these apps work overtime to purvey an image of quirked-up humanity. In their promotional copy, both services highlight that real people aid in their astrological work, and Astroline lists several “expert practitioners” by-name on their website. While much of Co-Star’s content is human-written, then modified and switched around by algorithms, it is nonetheless designed to tug on users’ heartstrings: “Someone is disastrously in love with you.” “Do: Power ballad, Black leather, Eyeshadow.” This content extends to detailed breakdowns of users’ potential day-to-day struggles, and pushes even further, into “the void” — a feature where users can ask questions and receive AI-generated “advice.” 

Astroline, by contrast, seems to be almost entirely AI, offering an opportunity to chat with “live advisors,” aka obvious AI-chatbots. “I can sense your curiosities trembling just beneath the surface,” Ella-Louise says, the app’s human-faced chatbot with an alleged “21 years of practice.” Moreover, in a move that verges wholeheartedly into machine-based divination, Astroline goes so far as to offer AI palm and tarot-card readings. 

These features seem designed to fabricate a sense of user-activity rather than passive engagement, and thereby work to confine users’ magical practice and experiences to the app. And for good reason: receiving the results of Astroline palm readings requires a nebulous subscription of $5 a week, while Co-Star’s premium service (gag-inducingly-named “Pro-Star”) offers unlimited void questions for $8 a month. While perhaps believing in and spending money on AI-based star prediction (in this economy?) seems ludicrous, 2024 findings by researchers at the the Massachusetts Institute of Technology indicate that “belief in AI predictions is more closely associated with paranormal beliefs than one’s cognitive style,” and is particularly strong among those with affinity for AI. They go on to say that their “findings suggest that people may perceive AI predictions in a way that is similar to the way they perceive astrology-based predictions,” speaking of astrological work as a whole, rather than just the AI-driven subset that Co-Star represents. 

To take the correlation a step further, Nikolić says that “supernatural fixation on magic as the mediator between experience and reality shifted to a preoccupation with the mind” and, from there, was ultimately “superseded by the imaginary of algorithmic cognition.” Thus, perhaps AI is not just a natural partner to astrology, but the natural end of all human fascination with magic, finally granted digital apotheosis. Perhaps Thoth-Hermes has not been replaced, but merely reborn a fourth time. Either way, Paracelsus does say that: “Whether the object of your faith be real or false, you will nevertheless obtain the same effects … it will always produce the same wonders.” 

Yet, to note that these apps’ users are free to believe in the salience of the algorithmically written (or rewritten) horoscopes — accompanying the claim with the Paracelsian thought that believing St. Peter’s statue is equivalent to believing St. Peter himself — is ultimately to underline that magic is a fundamentally creative and fundamentally personal act. Indeed, Astroline’s stated focus on “emotional processing” is not far off the mark: the power of magic lies with the practitioner, not to in-absurdity pursue impossible ends, but rather to devote their mental and emotional energy towards possible and positive ends. Harmless, if not fundamentally potent. Thus, to whatever degree one “believes” in astrology or magic, even if it is not a mote, it should be healing-crystal clear why young adults handing power over their inner-most mental and emotional sanctums to the bot Kabbalah offered by these apps is to their detriment, particularly when they come encoded with an obvious monetary incentive for highlighting the negative aspects of horoscopes (as is often alleged about Co-Star), thereby strengthening an emotional stranglehold on their users. Honestly, it’s a shame it can’t be kicked down the stairs, like Crowley was at Blythe Road.

 Indeed, AI-delivered or otherwise, astrology itself could stand to be treated with further negligibility as Gen Z’s fledgling esoteric acolytes each find their ways to their own unique practices, creatively developing magical practices that work for them and them alone. While some will naturally err with Paracelsus and conclude that power still resides in the stars, that planetary events precede those on earth, others should feel free to discard the cosmos at their leisure, to find what works. As the Latin goes: “Sapiens dominabitur astris.” The wise person rules their stars.