WE

A reading from the machine

Your Job in 2030

Tell the machine what you do. It reads your future and makes one prediction about your work.

Just a first name. Don't type anything else personal. Nothing you type is stored.

Example transmissionTue 14 May 2030 · 09:41 · RDG-7F3A

Sarah, your 2030 sign: The Lightbulb

You've always been better with people than with spreadsheets. You know this. The spreadsheets know this.

You notice the quiet kid at the back before anyone else does. You've never once been thanked for it in a meeting.

In 2030, you haven't typed a score into a system for a year. You still have a recurring dream about it.

Someone in the staffroom keeps taking your mug. You know who. Say nothing. Let the universe handle it.

Wildcard: Someone from 2026 turns up asking for advice. She's holding a pile of marking. You tell her it gets better. She doesn't believe you. You didn't either.

Lucky number: 30, the class size you'll finally stop having.

Unlucky object: anything that needs laminating by tomorrow.

Your power move: the teachers decide which jobs the machines get. You voted to give them the marking and keep the carpet time.

The machine predicts: by March 2030, the government's teacher survey will show average weekly working hours below 45 for the first time, crediting AI planning and marking. Mark the date. Hold us to it.

The test

This page is an experiment, and the result will be published here. It passes if people make at least 1,000 readings by 3 November 2026, counted by the server as the number of readings it writes, with nobody's answers kept. If it falls short, this page will say so and stay up.

Fiction and a forecast, not advice. Written by a machine on the spot; checked by a second machine for anything offensive before you see it.