A recent article in this newspaper about concerns over the exploding use of artificial intelligence — such as so-called “chatbots” doing the writing for us — included a sentence about something called the “Frankenstein Complex.” The complex involves the fear that “our doppelgangers will become sentient and replace or destroy their creators.”

Naturally this started me thinking about words, not the endless strings that will soon be churned out by computers everywhere, but rather words like “doppelgangers” — words we use in our everyday conversations without even thinking of their foreign origins.

From German, a doppelganger (literally “double goer”) is an apparition of or an exact double of a living person, and one of the many loanwords borrowed directly from another language that we use all the time.

Some other German words we use on a regular basis are: kindergarten (“children’s garden”), which is always spelled with a T, and “blitz,” which comes from blitzkrieg” (“lightning war”) and describes an intense attack intended to achieve a quick victory — just ask any harried quarterback.

If you sometimes find yourself feeling joyful over the misfortunes of others, then “schadenfreude,” which comes from the German words for “damage” and “joy,” is what you’re experiencing.

A similar-sounding word with an entirely different meaning is “sangfroid,” which is from the French words for “cold” and “blood” and describes the qualities of calmness and composure, such as a professional athlete who is always cool under pressure.

“Deja vu” (meaning “already seen”) is French for the phenomenon of feeling as though one has lived through a situation before. Or, as Yogi Berra once put it, “It’s deja vu all over again.”

“Jamais vu” (“never seen”), on the other hand, is the experience of being unfamiliar with a person or situation that is actually very familiar.

Another French term that we sometimes use is “nom de plume” (“pen name”), such as Stephen King’s alter ego, Richard Bachman. Some similar terms are “nom de famille” (“family name” or surname) and “nom de guerre” (“war name”), or the assumed name under which one engages in combat.

And then there’s “nom de Dieu” (“in the name of God!”), which is a blasphemous French term,” while the Swiss are more partial to getting the same point across without the blasphemy by exclaiming “nom de bleu.”

The Spanish word “guerrilla” (little war) lends its name to a type of warfare in which small groups use irregular tactics against a larger enemy. These small bands of fighters may have launched their attacks hoping for Deus ex Machina (Latin for “god from the machinery”), which is the term for a literary device often employed by Greek playwright Euripides in which an unforeseen event suddenly happens to save the day.

Another frequently heard Latin term is “quid pro quo” (“something for something”), which is the expectation of having a favor granted in return for something. A good example of this is former President Trump’s “perfect” phone call with Ukrainian diplomats in which he allegedly asked for information about a rival in exchange for military support. After word of the phone call got out, searches for “quid pro quo” increased by 5,500% on the dictionary website merriam-webster.com.

Jim Witherell of Lewiston is a writer and lover of words whose work includes “L.L. Bean: The Man and His Company” and “Ed Muskie: Made in Maine.” He can be reached at jlwitherell19@gmail.com.