The Machines Are Coming. Good. Bring Them In.

The Machines Are Coming. Good. Bring Them In.

Everybody''s scared. I get it.

You scroll, you see the headlines, you see the layoffs, you see some CEO smiling about "efficiency," and your stomach drops a little, because somewhere in the back of your head a voice says: there''s no room for me in the future they''re building.

I''m here to tell you that voice is lying to you. Not because I''m an optimist. Because I''ve read this story before. History already told me the ending, twice.

The First Time They Said "This Will Kill Us"

The Industrial Revolution didn''t ask permission. It rolled through fields and workshops and took jobs that had existed for a thousand years — the weaver, the blacksmith, the farmhand — and it burned them down to make room for something nobody had asked for and nobody could picture.

And what did humanity do with the wreckage?

It got time. For the first time in the history of the species, ordinary people had minutes that didn''t belong to survival. And you know what humans do with free minutes? They invent rituals. They invent beauty out of nothing.

Somebody, somewhere, took a machine built to force water through ground beans under pressure, and turned it into a ceremony. The espresso machine wasn''t a necessity. Nobody needed it to live. But out of it came the caffè, the barista, the five-minute pause at the counter that became a culture, a language, a whole social contract built around a cup the size of a shot glass. An entire economy was born from a revolution that was supposed to only take things away.

Nobody saw the barista coming. Nobody saw the cappuccino as identity coming. The jobs that came after industrialization weren''t replacements for the old ones. They were things nobody had the imagination to predict, because they didn''t exist yet as a need. They existed as a possibility, waiting for humans to have the time to notice it.

The Second Time They Said It

Then came the internet, and it did it again. It gutted whole industries — travel agents, video stores, print classifieds, the corner shop that sold film — and everyone said the same thing they''re saying now: this is the end of work as we know it.

And out of that wreckage crawled something absolutely unthinkable in 1995: a teenager filming themselves in a bedroom, becoming a company. A person livestreaming themselves handing out food to someone sleeping under a bridge, and that video generating enough revenue to change both their lives. Try explaining "content creator" to someone in 1990. They''d have you committed. Try explaining "I get paid to be myself on camera, and with that money I feed strangers" to your grandfather. He''d have no words for it, because the job itself had no name yet.

That''s the pattern. It''s not subtle. It repeats every single time:

The old jobs die. The new jobs are unimaginable — until they''re everyday life.

So Here We Are Again

AI is not going to be the exception. It''s going to be the loudest, biggest verse of the same song. It will take tasks, yes — plenty of them, and it won''t ask nicely either. But it will also crack open a door into rooms full of jobs we don''t have words for yet, the same way "influencer" and "barista" didn''t exist as words before their revolutions made them necessary.

This is exactly why we''re launching 365EXPT — a year-long, live-streamed experiment where a community builds, in public, a series of agentic ventures designed to invent jobs that have never existed before. Not to prove AI can replace people. The opposite. To prove that when you hand AI the busywork, what''s left standing is work only a human being can actually do — the kind that needs a heartbeat behind it.

What I Learned Growing Up Poor

I grew up in the south of Italy, in one of the rawest corners of the Naples suburbs. And here''s what nobody tells you about poverty until you''ve lived inside it:

Poverty is not the absence of money.

Poverty is the absence of orchestration.

It''s not that there''s no work to do — there''s always work to do, always someone who needs something, always a task sitting there unclaimed. It''s that there''s no one whose job it is to say: you, do this. You, check that it got done. Without that thin, invisible thread of coordination, everything collapses into fog. Nobody knows what to do. No one is assigned. No one is followed up on. And in that fog, people don''t become lazy — they become lost. That''s where the depression creeps in, that''s where the drugs creep in, that''s where a whole generation of capable hands just... sits there, unused, because nobody ever pointed at them and gave them a reason to move.

That absence — of orchestration, of someone watching, of someone assigning — is the real poverty. Not the empty wallet. The empty task list.

This Is the Job AI Was Born For

AI doesn''t get tired watching a city. It doesn''t get bored tracking ten thousand small tasks that need doing across a hundred neighborhoods. It can see, in real time, exactly what a city needs to run at its best — and in the same breath, it can see exactly which human, out of all of them, actually wants to do that specific task, and needs it just as much as the task needs them.

That''s not a threat to human work. That''s the first time in history a whole city could be orchestrated — every unclaimed task matched to a person hungry for purpose, at scale, without a bureaucracy in the way.

The machines aren''t coming to make us obsolete.

They''re coming to finally hand every single one of us a task worth doing — and someone checking that we did it.

That''s not the end of work.

That''s the first time work might actually make sense.

365EXPT starts now. Come build the jobs nobody's invented yet.