2035 - A Day In The Life

Fiction Short Story

I occasionally write fiction, and I wanted to capture some of the recent technological developments. Not at a grand scale, but how it's impacting people, day to day. Enjoy, and Happy New Year

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I wake up.

I've never been a morning guy, but on this day I'm surprisingly well rested.

I check my phone — shit, that's the reason why. It's already 10:15! My alarm clock was supposed to go off two hours ago.

Ever since they integrated AI into every single app, I can't use these apps like a normal person. All the functions are governed by large language models. Most days it works fine – but right now my clock is set to Vietnamese time for some reason.

"Fuck."

I throw aside the sheets and make my way to the living room – which is only a few steps away from my bed, considering my place is only 400 square feet.

I plop myself down on the desk, open up the laptop, and get to work. That is to say, I start applying for jobs.

I used to be one of those systems analysts at Walmart. But then Elon realized he needed the supply chain for SpaceX, so he decided to buy out the company. Now it's called Xmart.

He's now worth 850 billion — aaaand I'm out of a job.

I've been applying for the last couple months now, but there hasn't been any luck. Even when I'm qualified for the position, I'm competing against hundreds of other people, if not thousands. And beyond this, it seems like everyone else has their resumes optimized for the algorithm.

It's been depressing, but today I'm a little bit more hopeful. I just paid for a subscription service that automatically generates customized cover letters and resumes based on the specific company that I'm applying to.

I let out a sigh. "Time to get to work."

I login, put in my credentials. There's a $10 service fee on top of the $30 monthly subscription price — apparently these large language models use a ton of electricity, which we have to pay in carbon offsets.

I put in my background, my previous work experience, my skills, and the various companies that I'm applying to. Since I'm applying to 30 companies, I have to pay another five dollar fee. But when I get to the final step, however, it gives me all of the resumes and covered letters in Vietnamese.

I scratch my head, confused. Why does it think I'm Vietnamese? And if it's having the same issue as my alarm clock app, then those two things must be connected — but how?

I let out a breath of frustration, navigating the various settings to fix the output to English. Another five dollars — and now that the page has refreshed, I have to manually put all the information in all over again.

When I get to the final step, the large language model generates all the resumes and cover letters in English, and at the very same time my alarm clock app switches back to English as well.

Normally I would be a bit more concerned, but right now I just want to get these resumes out the door. Now that I don't have a job, I have way too much free time, and my therapist told me that in order to stay out of depression I need to stick to a routine, and have clear manageable goals for every single day. That's why it was important for me to wake up earlier. Not because I actually have anywhere to go, but it gives me some sense of normalcy.

My clear and manageable goal for this day is to get 30 resumes out the door.

I download the resumes and cover letters, then open up the various job portals and websites. I then use another AI service to do the application process for me. All I have to do is paste the links on one side, and upload the various resumes and cover letters on the other, and it does the rest for me. It was another 10 bucks a month, but at least it'll make the application process easier.

OK cool, I hit send – but I am met with the following message.

BATCH SEND FEATURE NOT AVAILABLE IN YOUR AREA

Trying to swallow the frustration, I look at the details of the pop-up notification. At the bottom of the screen, the text reads:

As part of the DDI, AI features are not available in your area.

I curse under my breath.

DDI. Digital Defense Initiative.

Ever since the Minecraft OnlyFans incident in 2029, NATO was forced to get involved. A global governing body for cyber defense was created, and they implemented new policies in order to limit the amount of AI generated content on the Internet.

"Whatever," I say under my breath. I turn on my VPN — another $10 per month — and then try applying again, hoping to bypass the filters.

I see the loading screen, watching it anxiously. When I see the green checkmark, showing that the resumes have successfully been sent, I let out a breath of relief. Immediately I get up from my desk, not wanting to look at a screen for the time being.

I go to brush my teeth, wash my face, make a cup of coffee — and when I come back 10 minutes later, I see a giant system prompt on my screen.

ALL APPLICATIONS REJECTED. AI GENERATED CONTENT DETECTED.

I curse under my breath, and one more time when I see the small font at the bottom of the window.

Partnered with ZZZuckyzuck AI

"Fuck."

***

"Fuck it," I say, printing off my standard résumé, grabbing my keys and my jacket.

I'm not going to just sit around here and do nothing the entire day. If I have to, I'll go from one place to the next to try and find a job.

In fact, there's a new Samazon less than 10 miles away.

Yep, Samazon.

Recently there was another scandal in South Korea. Apparently, one of Samsung executives approved a program where they implant chips into the brains of little children to create super students.

Jeff Bezos of all people stepped in, and decided to work with the founding family of Samsung to create a merger.

So now we have Samazon.

I get in my car and start driving. It's not a particularly long drive, but unfortunately I have to drive through the downtown core, which is an absolute shit show.

About halfway to the warehouse, a guy on an electric bike swerves in front me. I don't have enough time to get out of the way, so I end up hitting his front wheel. Everybody's fine, but now he's got a dent in his bike, and I've got a dent on the front of my car.

"Shit."

I get out of the car, and I see that it's a DrugDash-er. Considering the severe shortage of nurses, the government approved a program whereby DoorDash drivers can also deliver and administer medication.

Immediately this guy flies off into a rage at me. "Hey man, what the fuck? Watch where you're fucking going!"

His tone immediately changes when I point to the dash cam on the front of my car. "Hey bro, no worries. Let's just handle this under the table. I'll give you 100 and we can call it square."

I look at the huge scratch on the front of my car. "No man, I'm just going to call my insurance."

I get on the phone and explain the situation to my insurance agent. "Yeah, this guy swerved in front of me. Looks like his name is Johnny Singh."

The insurance agent pauses. "What did you say?"

I give him the rest of my information, but the insurance agent has this weird tone of voice, as if it's all my fault. But I don't think anything of it.

I get in my car — the DrugDash-er is still swearing at me — and continue my way to the warehouse. A few minutes later, however, I get a notification on my phone.

Your insurance premium has now increased by 15%.

What? Why?

I pull over to the side of the road and call the insurance line back. A different agent picks up this time. I explain the situation, to which the agent replies. "According to your file, it looks like you've been flagged for suspicion of hate group activities. According to the algorithm, it looks like your percentage likelihood of joining a white supremacist organization has increased 3%."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" I asked, puzzled. "Is this because the other guy had the last name Singh?"

"There's many things that go into our insurance algorithm, sir."

I'm incredulous. "How could I be at risk of joining a white supremacist organization?! I'm not even fully white! And what does any of this have to do with the car crash?!"

"Like I said sir, there are many variables that go into the insurance algorithm."

I think about protesting further, but I know I'm not going to get anywhere right now. I'm pulled over on the side of the highway, and I just want to get to the warehouse.

***

I pull into the Samazon warehouse. I enter the lobby, and for the first several minutes I'm just walking around like a lost puppy.

Finally, I find my way to the reception. "Hi, I was wondering if I could submit an application here?"

He looks at me like I have a horn growing out of my head. "We take applications online, sir."

"Yeah, I've tried that. It just keeps automatically rejecting me."

The receptionist tries to conceal his smile. "That may be because you don't have the qualifications."

What fucking qualifications do you need to work in a warehouse? I want to say.

Instead I reply: "I have experience in supply chain and logistics. If I can just get an opportunity to speak to one of the shift managers here, even for like five —"

The receptionist is annoyed. "Yeah, again, that's not how things work. If you just —"

"Look," I interrupt. "I see new guys coming in here all the time. I'm telling you that I have experience. All I need is, like, 10 minutes with someone face-to-face, and then I'll get out of your hair."

I continue brow beating him for the next five minutes, and it becomes clear the receptionist is either going to have to call security on me, or otherwise give me what I want. Luckily, he agrees, although with great annoyance. He picks up the phone and makes a call to someone inside the warehouse.

After a short conversation, he turns back to me: "Alright, Eric will see you soon."

A few minutes later, Eric steps out from the reception. He's a skinny guy, and a couple years younger than myself. After a brief greeting, he leads me through the massive hallways onto the other side of the warehouse floor. We enter a small back room, where there's a whole bunch of charts and posters laid out along the walls, and a single table in the middle.

"So, what sort of position are you looking for?" Eric asks in his preppy, Silicon Valley startup voice.

I pull out my résumé, sliding it across the table, before going into the speech I rehearsed in my head. "My background is in systems analysis, and as you can see here I've got experience."

I continue with my pitch for the next minute or so, although it's clear that he's not listening to me. Instead, he's looking down at my resume, confused.

"Hm."

I raise a brow. "Something wrong?"

"Yeah, I don't see anything here about your PhD thesis. You might want to include that at the top of your resume."

I pause, hesitate. "I… Well I don't have a PhD."

Eric looks at me, confused. "Nothing at all? Not even a pre-print going into publishing?"

I feel a sinking feeling in my stomach; this wasn't exactly the start I was hoping for. "It was never really a requirement for my previous jobs."

He gestures beyond the interview room, to the warehouse floor. "Well, everyone here has a PhD — or at least, they were PhD candidates at some point."

I shake my head in confusion. "What?! Why would you need a PhD in order to work the warehouse floor?"

Eric laughs nervously. In that moment he looks like a child playing at being an adult. "Well, how are we going know whether you're qualified?" he says in a half joking, half serious way.

"I mean… You can just ask me questions, right?" I answer, trying to mimic his light-hearted tone. "After all that is what an interview is for. As it says on the resume, I've got plenty of experience in systems analysis. I would be more than happy to go through —"

Eric cuts me off. "Well, we don't actually have any starting positions at that level. That's a level tiger position. We start people off at level chimp, and then allow them to work their way up."

I shake my head. "Chimp? Tiger?"

Eric laughs. "Oh, that's right. You don't know the company lingo. It's because, well, we used to be Amazon, so the job positions were based on Amazonian animals."

Now I'm thoroughly confused. "Do tigers live in the Amazon?"

Eric frowns. "Look, the point is that it doesn't seem like you have the experience to work the floor. Now, I appreciate the fact that you showed some initiative by coming here, but —"

In that moment, a memory comes to me. My mother, lying in a hospital bed — one of the very final conversations we ever had. At the same time, there's a ringing in my ears. Blood pressure or something.

"Listen," I interject. "I know that you're about to reject me. I guess I'm not level tiger, or whatever. But all I'm asking is for something. Some sort of opportunity. Samazon is a huge company — and it's expanding every single day. There has to be something."

Eric, to his credit, doesn't immediately push back, or get annoyed. He grimaces, in a way that makes him seem like a 20 year-old just out of high school. After a moment, he answers, "Maybe we can position you as a special server. Right now, we only give those positions to students, but if you enroll in some online school, I'm sure it won't be a problem."

Ever since Marc Andreessen took over the consumer finance protection bureau, he stripped away most of the wage laws, including the minimum wage. He tried to justify the action by increasing the scope of "special server" designations. Since servers get paid in tips, they can get paid below the minimum wage, so the idea was that you can give this variable payment structure to other parts of the economy as well.

In reality, most companies abuse the system, giving the special server designation to positions that have absolutely nothing to do with customer service in order to save on costs.

I felt a ringing in my ears once more. I had a pretty decent job, now I was starting from scratch. But still, it was one step above where I'm currently at — so I swallowed my pride, and stuck out my hand.

"Thank you Eric, I appreciate it."

Eric laughs nervously. "We have a strict no handshake policy here, sorry. After the second pandemic, we keep a tight ship. I have your information, I'll let you know whether we could get you the position. Expect a call within 4 to 6 weeks – or months."

***

I drive back from the warehouse — although this time I avoid the downtown core. It triples my commute, but I don't want to risk it.

I think about the interview, reflecting on it. I didn't really have any expectations going into it. I figured, if nothing else, it would give me experience for future interviews, practice that muscle. And more than anything, it would get me out of the house.

I pontificate over what I'm going to do next, although I'm brought back to reality when I see a notification on my car dashboard.

Heated seats and U-turn capability deactivated.

"What?"

I pull over into the nearest parking lot; the only things around are a warehouse store, a diner, and a small homeless encampment. A couple of guys are just walking around, hunched over. They look like zombies.

I briefly consider driving over to a different parking lot, but I want to understand what the hell's going on with my car.

I call the car dealership, explaining the notification that I just got.

"So, yeeeeaaaaah," the agent on the other side says. "It looks like we implemented a streamlined feature switch remotely."

"No, it looks like you randomly deactivated my heated seats — and my ability to U-turn for some reason. Isn't that dangerous?"

"Yeah, well, doing a U-turn is technically illegal so it's technically a feature in the car."

"But why did you downgrade the features?"

"Sir, it's not a downgrade. It's a feature switch. And…" The agent on the other line clacks on her keyboard, pulling up my file. "Apparently it happened automatically based on an update to your profile. It says here that your insurance agency flagged you for potential activity with a white supremacist group."

"What?! It has nothing to do with white supremacy! There was a DrugDash guy that swerved in front of me and nicked the front of my car, and I just called the insurance agent to fill in the details! That's it! And now you're telling me it's somehow connected to the car dealership where I got the car from?!"

"Well, what race was the DrugDash driver?"

"How the fuck does that matter?! That has nothing to do with anything!"

The agent remains silent for several moments, clacking away at the keyboard. "You know what, let me take care of it on my side. I'll call the insurance company to see if we can get all of this sorted out. Sit tight, I'll give you a call in about 10 minutes, OK?"

I let out a breath of relief. "Great, great, thank you, I appreciate it."

I hang up.

I know that she's not doing it out of the goodness of her heart — last year there was a scandal where the CEOs of various car companies were engaging in monopolistic practices. It turns out they had a back door to their customers' genetic information, and were rejecting or accepting warranties based on that. Many of them have been trying to clean up their brand image, if only to move on from the scandal.

"Fucking great," I say under my breath. "Some guy swerves in front of me, and my insurance premiums go up. And now I'm on some list for hate crimes?"

I'm about to get into my car and drive back home, but my stomach growls. I haven't eaten anything all day, and that diner is starting to look real good.

The only problem is that I have to cross the homeless encampment in order to enter.

I pop the hood of my car. I pull out the Yeezy's lying there, and switch into them. After the second pandemic, the homelessness and drug abuse rate skyrocketed, and the government partnered with Kanye West to make special shoes. The new Yeezy's were reinforced at the bottom, so that you didn't have to worry about accidentally stepping on a needle and getting infected.

I make my way over to the diner, holding my breath all the while. The overwhelming stench of shit and piss fills my nostrils anyway. Luckily, the zombies roaming around are too zonked out in order to harass me.

I enter, take my seat, and after a few minutes a haggard looking waiter in her 60's makes her way over to me. "What can I get for you?"

"I'll just take two eggs and a cup of coffee, please."

"No problem. That'll be $31."

"Jesus Christ! $31?!"

She looks at me with a no annoyed expression on her face. "It's the market price right now."

Marc Andressen again. One of his other ideas was to allow for dynamic pricing at food places when he took over the consumer protection bureau. Originally the prices were just supposed to be based on the time of day, but independent investigators found that the companies have backend access to smartphone data. This means they are likely aware when a given customer is hungry or not. Nobody's been able to prove it though.

Once more I curse under my breath. "Fine."

The waitress raises a brow. "We're going to have to ask you to pay upfront." She gestures to the homeless encampment on the other side of the window. "Diner policy."

Seeing as how I'm in no position to negotiate, I relent. The eggs come, and while I'm eating I get a call back from the car company.

"Yeeeeaaaaah, we worked out the details with the insurance people. Turns out you're not really at risk for being a white supremacist. That being said, unfortunately we can't reverse the feature switch on your car for the next six months. Instead, you'll be paying the higher premiums in the interim, and when the feature switch takes place, the money will be deposited back into your account."

I shake my head, confused. "Wait, what does the downgrade have to do with the insurance?"

"It's not a downgrade, sir. It's a feature switch. In this new feature package, you have all of the same available features except for heated seats and U-turns. As part of the algorithm alignment initiative, the insurance details and the car package have been merged into a single algorithm, so in order to reverse the new policies on your account, they will have to be done simultaneously."

This confuses me further. "But you were able to downgrade everything immediately."

I can tell that the agent on the other side is getting annoyed with me. "As I've already explained, sir, feature switching is a complex process that requires its own separate implementation. In order to reverse the feature switch, we would need to initialize a new feature package — one that would include heated seats and U-turns. But since the new feature package would have the same implementation as your previous package, our system would not be able to distinguish the two. As a result, a certain grace period at the higher premiums is necessary, followed by remittance. It's quite simple stuff sir."

***

It takes me another forty five minutes to get back home. The entire time driving, I can feel this ringing in my ears.

I'm not a stupid person. I've never claimed to be the brightest, but I've met a lot of stupid people in my life, and I know that I'm not quite as stupid as them. Or maybe I am, who knows. Everyone else seems to be getting by in this world, going with the flow, getting on with their lives.

But here I am, staying in my cramped 400 square-foot apartment.

It's evening now, and I consider going to the gym in order to clear my head. But then I remember the gym has moved to dynamic prices as well. You have to pay a flat fee for every piece of equipment you use, followed by an additional 10 cents for every minute that you continue to use it. This started to become necessary because the TikTokers would spend hours taking up pieces of equipment.

Right now I just don't have the money for that kind of thing.

I briefly consider going out for a run, or even a walk, but now it's begun snowing, and I just got back home.

Ultimately, I do some push-ups and situps, while turning on the TV to watch some football.

Before I can watch the game, however, I get a mandatory prompt on my screen.

Please enter your mandatory parlay.

The NFL, along with all the other major sports leagues, have become intertwined with gambling. After the SBF act of 2028, the sports leagues made it mandatory to place a wager on the outcomes of the games in order watch it. According to their studies, it enhances user experience.

I choose the following three-way parlay: the commentary team will make six references to Taylor Swift, one of the fans will shit himself during halftime, and the quarterback will scream Black Lives Matter during one of the first touchdowns.

I do some push-ups and sit ups for the first quarter, and then eventually relax for the rest of the game.

Around the 4th quarter, the camera pans to somebody in the crowd. One of the commentators says in an enthusiastic voice: "Lebronny Sins has just entered the building, folks!"

The crowd cheers as his face shows up on the Jumbotron.

Lebronny Sins. The world's first trillionaire is known as Lebronny Sins.

This was the guy who bought 23 and Me. He ultimately integrated it with his own social media company, and used a combination of AI and venture funding to create a genetic testing app – which is also a dating site. Those who use it swear by it; somehow the algorithm knows exactly who to pair you up with. It's finally solved the dating app problem. The only other problem is that it's 1000 bucks a month.

Obviously Lebronny Sins isn't his real name, but that was the name of his YouTube channel, so he just kept with it.

"Wow, what a great guy," the sports commentator cries out. "I can't believe that he's single-handedly solved the loneliness crisis. Rumour has it that he's going to make the first movie on Mars."

Once more I feel a ringing in my ears, and I shut off the TV.

Once more I'm confronted with the reality of my life, all 400 squares of it.

The only reason I can afford it is that my mother left me with some small portion of her inheritance when she got sick and died – that, as well as the fact that I made a bet on the nature of her illness.

They have bets for everything these days. I made a bet that she would last three months longer than the doctors predicted, and she did. I parlayed that with another bet that Elon Musk would have his 30th kid before the end of 2034.

And now I'm using that parlay money to fund this existence of mine – although it's quickly running out, one day at a time.

***

It's night time now, so I walk three steps to the bed. I'm not particularly tired, but I know that I need to stick to a routine and wake up at a sensible hour. Otherwise my mind will start getting loopy.

Inevitably, I end up scrolling social media for a half an hour.

The top news story of the day is that former president Vladimir Putin has opened a world class restaurant in the heart of Quebec, known as the Putinerie. Ever since he was ousted from Russia, he's been on the run. He ended up settling in Quebec, somehow. Public approval of him skyrocketed when he had an interview with Lex Fridman.

Michelin gave his new Putinerie two stars.

I continue scrolling on my feed. I see that Joe Rogan has an interview with the AI clone of Gandhi. I scroll past without watching; he's already interviewed AI Gandhi once before.

I'm about to finally set the phone aside, when I get a message.

Katherine: heeeey :)

Holy shit. My heart skips a beat.

When I went to college, Katherine and I were really into each other — although we weren't allowed to have a relationship. She was a year younger than me, and it was against the campus policy to have an age gap greater than eight months.

I answer back. Hey :)

Ever since college we intermittently catch up, and then lose touch. She tells me some of the stuff that's going on in her life, I do the same. There's always a good vibe between us. The conversations always flow naturally, and we have the same sense of humor. But oftentimes Katherine just disappears for a little while before popping back up again, and it's like we reset.

But on this night the conversation is different. It starts off exactly like all the others – we give life updates, and tell each other all the things that's been going on recently.

And then Katherine says: "I just want you to know that, I always thought that we would be great as a couple."

My heart skips a beat. All of a sudden the flood of memories comes back. All those late nights in the campus quad, all of the time we spent in one of our dorms, listening to new music. Things were simple back then.

Many times I thought about what it would be like to be with her — but I figured it was something to think about after I got my life sorted out. My mom had gotten sick the first time around then, and so my head was just not in the right place.

But now, I think to myself, fuck it, what do I have to lose?

"Yeah, me too. College was bearable when the two of us were hanging out, for sure! Maybe if we start hanging out again, life will become bearable once more ;-)"

As soon as I hit send, a tingle of embarrassment runs up my spine. I regret the text as soon as I sent it.

Still, I get the following response: "Let's meet up soon. I have the perfect place."

I feel my heart skip a beat. "Yeah? Time and place?"

I don't receive a response for five minutes, then ten. I'm a little bit disappointed, but Katherine's a little bit flaky like that sometimes, so I don't think anything of it. Perhaps she'll message me in the morning.

I'm about to put the phone down and roll over, when I finally received the next text message. Trying not to be overly eager, I unlock my phone, and read it.

Want more tantalizing conversations with your college flame? You can do so by signing up to Xitter AI!

The blood rushes from my face. There's a ringing in my ear once more, and beyond that, a feeling of… Well, I don't exactly know how to describe it. It's as though something inside of me is being hollowed out, but by bit. I feel like I'm skin that's wrapped around nothing.

The ringing in my ears gets louder. Now it won't really go away.

I take a deep breath, lie in my head on the pillow, and try to remind myself what my therapist told me. It'd be cool to have another appointment, but I can't afford it right now, so I just keep going back to the same old advice. Set clear and small targets every single day.

"Another 30 resumes," I whisper under my breath. "That's all that I have to do tomorrow. Just send another 30 resumes."

I close my eyes, about to go to sleep. "Siri, set alarm clock for eight in the morning."

The phone answers back: "Bộ đồng hồ báo thức!"