It is a Thursday in March 2035, and I run a bottler the size yours was in 2026.
The night shift had no people in it. Two million humanoids work somewhere in the world now; forty of them are ours, and they load trucks that drive the first two hundred kilometres by themselves.
Fifteen percent of the decisions in this company are made by agents before anyone wakes up. The order, the route, the promo, the service ticket. I see them as a list, not a meeting.
Every cooler, every dispenser, every pallet tells us what it saw. Our electricity bill is the second line of the P&L, right after people, because the data centres we rent use more power than Japan did when you were sitting in that room.
The things that did not change: the owner of the corner store still decides whether to trust the suggestion. A person still says “not this one” to a campaign. And someone still answers for the system when it is wrong.
What I wish we had done in 2026: joined the data before buying the tools, made every product readable by a machine, and decided who would teach the business to the people the machines stopped hiring.
You have the dates. The direction was already clear.
— A manager, 2035
Every figure in the letter comes from a forecast on the slides: UBS (humanoids), Gartner (decisions), IEA (electricity), Aurora/Waymo (driving). The voice is the browser’s own; nothing is sent anywhere.