Work always followed an understandable rhythm.
Once, the main source of wealth was the extra yield from your fields. A very clear process: sowing, tending, harvest, slaughter. Survive the winter. Repeat for five thousand years, right up to the Industrial Revolution. Fine — you could also become a soldier. Train for a long time. Fight a campaign. Survive. Caesar gives you a plot of land in Spain.
The twentieth century. You get an education. You strain before the exams. You relax between them. Your first job. A serious push to become a professional. You made it. Well done. Now you can just work for a couple of years. Then another serious push. Congratulations — you’re an even bigger pro now. Five years to enjoy the fruits of your effort in relative calm.
Even in the 21st century. You learn a framework through blood and sweat. Great. You work on that framework for a couple of years. Then you level up again. Move to a new company or a new project. Another push.
There was always a rhythm. A moment of strain and growth, then a stretch of calm after the growth. One day you’re a master — and then the half-life of your mastery runs out and you have to grind harder.
And then you notice the half-life is getting shorter. First you have to level up every year. Then every six months. And then it’s 2026.
I fall asleep a professional. I wake up in a new world where yesterday’s professionalism is worth nothing. Half the day I spend figuring out what happened while I slept. Half the day I put the new knowledge into practice. I fall asleep a professional. Every single day.
And it’s uncomfortable. And no, I don’t know what to do about it. But I do know the half-life has shrunk to about its minimum. Which means the singularity is next.)
The future is going to be very interesting. Happy. Sad. Intense. Unexpected. Anything at all — except one thing. The future will not be comfortable. But we’ll be fine.