When I left the apartment to go get some breakfast, there was a guy on his phone outside. Instead of holding it to his face and speaking relatively softly, he had it at arm’s length from his face, and was projecting like an actor on a stage. After a moment I realized this was because he was having a video call. Probably about whatever had happened to the car he was walking around, which had a broken rear window with a trash bag taped over it. He wasn’t speaking a language I even remotely understand, so this is just conjecture.
Earlier in the morning, I’d had a health care startup’s bot reply to a tweet last night where I muttered about a sore throat. It offered a house call.
Welcome to the dark cyberpunk future. It bears no resemblance to the one anyone promised us. But it’s the one we have.