“In Ten Years, Will You Still Be Able To Do This?”
About the uncertainty of our collective future
The future has been scaring me more and more. It’s fear in its purest state that hinders my life. But it’s a fear that has taken over me in its greatest form: the kind of fear that, instead of making us react, paralyzes us, leaving us incapable of any action, whether big or small. My legs tremble at the same time they go numb.
It’s horrible.
I genuinely believe it’s the most potent fear one can feel, and unlucky for me, it’s the one that has come knocking at my door.
Let me explain.
About two weeks ago, I ran into an old neighbor in our village’s supermarket. Interestingly, he was quite friendly and talkative, and the conversation unexpectedly became pleasant — I think this happens when we all become adults; there’s hardly any difference between someone who is 33 or 48 or something like that.
To be an adult is to know the hardships that come with it. But if there are differences, the wisdom acquired throughout life always impresses me and to which I pay attention when someone wants to gift me a lesson.
That was the case.
A few words were enough for him to ask me a crucial question about what I currently do in life: “And in ten years, will you still be able to do this?”
I shuddered at such a question, and a part of me stayed on the defensive, speaking only about the present.
“You see, why would I leave a good job and go after a worse one just because it might be more stable? Stability is also an illusion.” I said.
He pursed his lips, closed them in a gesture of denial, and shrugged without fear, saying to me, “But, you really have to think about it,” and he didn’t need to say anything else as a whole discourse emerged in my head while he was waving me goodbye.
The words echoed loudly in my mind:
“You’re getting old, with white hair and ugly, and little by little, you’ll be replaced by someone younger, more beautiful, and who doesn’t mind being paid less. And then? What investment will you have made throughout your adult life? What will become of you at 43 going on 44, and what kind of world will it be then? Will the online teaching career even continue to exist? Or will everything turn to crap?”
I went home completely turned upside down, dismayed because I couldn’t get these frightening thoughts out of my mind. Of course, from there, being invaded by enormous frustration was a small step.
Frustration, mainly with the empty, superficial, and banal world we increasingly live in, and with a great longing for everything that has already ceased.
I found myself discussing these matters with my Italian tutor as well. She is also an online teacher like me, but about four years younger. I can see exactly what I was in her, and she has thanked me for being, in essence, a projection of her own future.
We are two people who claim to be given to thought, introspective, with love for things, let’s say, of thinking. In my office, behind the computer I use as the main work instrument, two massive shelves filled with books are crowded, and on the desk, there’s a stack of notebooks and loose sheets with various notes. Even the tiny chest with postcards of memories is stuffed with books, preventing my cat from lounging there for her afternoon nap.
I believe that soon, this will be a picture of the past. But all of this is who I am. All of it.
And, the annihilation of my identity scares me. Having to adapt to a world where I will increasingly be surpassed. A world where I will quickly be seen as an old woman confined at home with two higher education degrees that are worth nothing except for my own intellectual growth, a word that will also soon be gone. Intellectual growth? Why will that even be needed?
And, of course, beyond my huge doubt regarding my professional situation and, therefore, my economic survival in this world, what troubles me even more is the escalation of artificial intelligence and all the negativity it brings with it.
We still need to fully realize the disruption this gadget has brought to humanity. But like any invention, it cannot just merely be ‘uninvented’; now, it’s about learning to live with it.
And if we are distressed by the obsession with social media and how this madness has changed our lives, we may soon miss this strange present.
Concerning this gloomy future, it’s not just about being scared by the theft of jobs that all these technologies have brought. It’s not just that. It’s a greater fear of what they will do to society and, as such, to the brains of humans.
Very soon, if not already, the human pleasures we derive from patience, challenge, and the joy of achievement of something well done will be taken from us by something that presents us with a product made instantly at zero cost.
And if such a thing exists, what commercial value will truly be given to reflection, reading, contemplation, and even the book market behind me? What will become of all of us who invested so much in an obsolete education at graduation? What greater purpose will children have in school, and how will any teacher convince them that studying is necessary?
With all this in mind, I also sent, in vain, a message to an influencer my age. She is exactly 33, just like me, with a stunning body, a refined sense of humor, a traveler (they all are), and a beautiful face that garners numerous likes on (anti)social media.
In short, she has what many envy: success. So, now and then, this woman opens her space to answer various questions, even if they are always superficial. Despite all this, and revolving around these quasi-existential questions, I decided to ask her the same question posed by my former neighbor, “And in ten years, will you still be able to do this?”
In ten years, at 43 and in a different world, will her profession even still exist? It’s not about whether she can do it, but I wonder more about the world. How will the world be in ten years? Are we all betting on supposed careers that will vanish overnight?
Regarding all this, I read a news story about an influencer who generated ten thousand dollars monthly; imagine this: it was all fake. That perfect face and body were just an illusion of artificial intelligence. This is madness, but it is reality now.
As for the influencer, I didn’t get any response from her. If she had read my message, I imagine she might have been paralyzed by fear and filled with silence. Or perhaps not; maybe she didn’t even open it. Perhaps she’s a person who doesn’t think about the future and lives entirely in the joy of this present that fades away with each tick-tock.
But I admit that I would have liked to have had any feedback from her. Some comment that would make me feel less alone in this panic that has overwhelmed me lately. But nothing, not even a mere sign of life from the other side.
Who knows, perhaps we are all robots. My goodness!
Is there any human out there?
Please leave a message.
Hello, I’m Araci, a female writer from Portugal. I like to write about my country, Portugal. But I also enjoy politics, economics, and issues concerning the climate crisis I’m witnessing in my life and where I live.
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