Hey — It’s Toffer.
I took two flights to year 2034.
Estimated read time: 5 minutes
Flight 2034-HH
The first was flown by a human captain and a human first officer.
The flight had zero turbulence. We avoided burnout-inducing pressure, focusing instead on appreciating each moment. It wasn't about maximizing productivity, but about enjoying the journey.
Conversations with fellow passengers were engaging and surprisingly insightful. Meals weren't just fuel, but experiences that broadened our perspectives. During layovers, we explored virtual museums and tried new activities. These seeming distractions often led to unexpected bursts of creativity.
The skies were clear, and each landing was intentional. Connecting flights offered meaningful experiences that, while not directly work-related, sparked new ideas and connections.
When we landed in 2034, everyone was smiling. We even looked younger, some even better. The decade-long flight had been good for our well-being and, surprisingly, our productivity.
At baggage claim, security informed me I was waiting for nothing — I'd started with five check-in bags, but the years had left me with just my hand-carry. Somehow, that felt like enough. Or was it?
Flight 2034-AA
The second flight was piloted entirely by AI — both captain and first officer were machines.
This journey was nothing but turbulence. Despite being in my 40s, the algorithm insisted I still needed to acquire more valuable skills.
There were no planned stops, only "emergency" landings. We learned to set aside our passions and focus solely on developing market-demanded, well-compensated skills. Every landing catered to market needs, not personal growth.
Meals were optimized for nutrition and cognitive enhancement. Sleep was micro-managed for maximum efficiency. Every moment was a calculated opportunity for skill acquisition and productivity improvement.
Some passengers didn't make it to 2034, even though we all followed the prescribed routine of early nights, healthy eating, and scheduled breaks. The relentless pressure proved too much for some.
I didn't wait for my luggage upon arrival, even knowing I'd gained tenfold what I brought. In this version of 2034, I wasn't sure if I still had a family to return to.
Back in 2024, I realized I'm walking a tightrope.
The human flight showed me that productivity for humans often means a flexible approach to time. Decisions were based on excitement and energy, not forced tasks. There was less calculation, more feeling — a seemingly happier flight that still led to innovation.
The AI flight taught me that productivity isn't just personal — it's about cultivating rare, valuable skills the market demands. It demonstrated a rigid relationship with time, emphasizing that without discipline, financial security is at risk. Hard work was key, leading to undeniable progress and financial gains.
To reach my ideal 2034, I may not achieve the extreme success the AIs projected, but I can get there without it being an unsustainable slog. I need to be mindful of my time and prioritize self-improvement, but it doesn't have to be miserable.
Perhaps success isn't just the destination, but how I navigate my flight through time. Maybe the best approach combines the joy and creativity of the human flight with the discipline and market awareness of a calculated one. A balance where I work hard on meaningful tasks, while also taking time to enjoy the view and remember why I took off in the first place.
Your Friend in Time,
Toffer