Okay, let's unpack this. Let's do it. Because
there is a massive, silent, and frankly, awkward
elephant in the room right now. And I don't mean
a metaphorical elephant quietly standing in the
corner of a boardroom. I mean an elephant that
is sitting right there in your home office, right
there in your cubicle, and definitely right there
in the coffee shop where everyone is huddled
over their laptops. It is the single biggest
open secret of the modern workforce. Everyone
knows it's there, but nobody is making eye contact
with it. Exactly. Everyone is doing it, but no
one wants to admit it. And we need to describe
the scene because I think every single listener
is going to recognize this moment. Oh, absolutely.
You're at work. You're writing an email. Or maybe
you're trying to debug some code. Or you're drafting
a strategy document for the Q3 review. And you
have a specific tab open. Yep. Maybe it's ChatGPT.
Maybe it's Claude. Maybe it's Grok. You're in
the flow. You type in a prompt, you get an answer,
you copy, you paste, you tweak the language so
it sounds a bit more like you. And then you hear
footsteps. That's the moment. Someone walks by
your desk or your boss comes up behind you. What
do you do? Snap. Alt tab. Minimize window. Immediate
reflex. The alt tab reflex. It is instantaneous.
It's like we are all teenagers in the 90s hiding
video games from our parents, except we are grown
adults, professionals, hiding the most powerful
tool in the history of human cognition. We're
treating it like contraband. We're in this incredibly
strange psychological state right now where we
have access to the superpower and we are treating
it like it's something shameful. It's the don't
ask, don't tell. phase of technological adoption.
It is a fascinating sociological phenomenon if
you step back and look at it. It really is. We
are seeing productivity gains across the economy
that would have been unimaginable, literally
science fiction five years ago. Yet the cultural
narrative hasn't caught up. Not at all. There
is this deep -seated fear that admitting to using
AI is an admission of, well, cheating. That's
the word that keeps popping up, cheating or laziness.
Right. But there is a darker fear underneath
cheating. The fear isn't just that you'll get
a slap on the wrist. No, it's much deeper. The
fear is that admitting you use AI is admitting
that you, the human, are no longer necessary.
That is the core tension. It's the nightmare
scenario. If I say, hey, boss, the AI wrote 80
% of this report, the fear is the boss says,
great, the AI costs $20 a month and you cost
a lot more than that. Why am I paying you? Precisely.
And that fear is what we are going to dismantle
today. Because if you remain in that state of
hiding, of shame, of looking over your shoulder,
you remain a victim of the technology. You're
reactive. You're letting the tool happen to you.
But there is another way. Welcome to the Read
Multiplex podcast. Today, we are going back into
the mind of the man who I think is seeing this
clearer than anyone else. Brian Rimmel. Yeah.
And I have to say, every time we dig into his
work at Read Multiplex, I feel like my brain
expands about three sizes. Brian really has no
peer in this territory. And I don't say that
lightly. You have plenty of analysts talking
about stock prices or which chatbot has the best
benchmarks this week or what the latest rumor
is from Silicon Valley. But Brian is doing something
completely different. He's on a different level.
He is mapping the societal soul during this transition.
He's looking at the anthropology of the future.
He's not looking at the next quarter. He's looking
at the next generation. And today, we are unpacking
part 10 of his massive 5 ,000 Days series. A
huge undertaking. Now, for anyone joining us
who hasn't been following along with the Reed
Multiplex deep dives, let's set the stage. What
exactly are the 5 ,000 days? The 5 ,000 days
is the specific timeline Brian has laid out,
roughly spanning from late 2025 through to the
late 2030s or early 2040s. So about 14, 15 years.
Exactly. He calls this period the interregnum.
Interregnum. That is such a heavy, evocative
word. It sounds like something out of Game of
Thrones or History of the Roman Empire. It is
a historical term, and Brian uses it very deliberately.
An interregnum refers to a pause or gap between
two reigns. Between two kings. The old king is
dead, the new king hasn't been crowned yet, and
the laws are suspended. It's a time of chaos,
but also a time of malleability. So in our case,
who are the two kings? What are the two reigns?
Brian argues we are leaving the reign of labor
as identity, where who you are is defined by
your nine -to -five job, and we are moving toward
the reign of liberated potential. But we aren't
there yet. We are in the messy, chaotic middle.
We are in the gap between the trapeze bars. You've
let go of the one behind you, the old economy,
but you haven't quite caught the one in front
of you. And that is a terrifying place to be.
You're in midair. Exactly. And part 10 of this
series is specifically designed to help us navigate
that terror of being in midair. Okay, so what's
the mission for today's deep dive? The mission
for today is to flip the script on that secret
AI user stigma we started with. We need to move
from being victims of automation to becoming
what Brian calls conductors of a new symphony.
I love that image. The conductor. Because a conductor
doesn't play every instrument, but the music
doesn't happen without them. That's the goal.
Brian introduces the concept of marshalling AI.
It's not about checking a box or just using a
tool. It's about existential amplification. Existential
amplification. Wow. But before we get to the
solution. We have to understand the journey we've
been on because Brian frames this entire 14 -year
transition using Joseph Campbell's hero's journey.
Which is such a brilliant way to look at economics.
It acknowledges that this isn't just a market
shift. It's a mythology. It's an emotional narrative
that we are all living through. Absolutely. So
let's do a quick previously on for the listeners.
Walk us through the hero's journey that has led
us to part 10. So it begins with the ordinary
world. That was part one of Brian's series. Our
old normal. That's the world we are just starting
to leave behind the evolutionary psychology of
work as status. We are wired to work because
for thousands of years, if you didn't work, you
didn't eat and you didn't have status in the
tribe. Right. Labor was synonymous with survival.
Yeah. And status. Labor was identity. Right.
And then comes the call to adventure, which in
this story is the arrival of this high level
generative AI. But what does the hero always
do first? They refuse the call. Every time. That
was parts two and three. The refusal and the
grief. We saw denial. We saw anger. Brian referenced
Elizabeth Kobler -Ross's stages of grief. And
Kurt Vonnegut's novel, Play Her Piano. Exactly.
It's that visceral reaction of, this machine
is going to replace me and I hate it. I think
a lot of people are still lingering in that phase,
the rage against the machine phase. They are.
And that's natural. It's a valid stage. But the
journey pushes forward. We moved into the reframing
phase in parts four through six. Okay, reframing.
This was about using cognitive techniques like
those from Scott Adams to reprogram your brain,
to see the threat as an opportunity. This is
where it got dark for a minute, though. It did.
We faced the dark night of the soul, confronting
the reality of zero human companies, companies
that run entirely on code. That was the scary
part, the belly of the whale. But then we hit
a turning point in parts seven through nine.
The reward and the road back. This is where we
start to see the light. We looked at I &M Banks'
culture series, envisioning a post -scarcity
world. What could life be like without mandatory
labor? And part nine had that fantastic twist,
the artisan's awakening. Oh, that was such a
great insight. Oh, right. That was the realization
that blue -collar work plumbers, electricians,
carpenters is actually safer from AI than white
-collar work. Because of Moravec's paradox. Explain
that one more time. It's the paradox that things
humans find hard, like abstract reasoning or
chess, are easy for computers. But things we
find easy, like physical dexterity or navigating
a cluttered room, are incredibly hard for computers.
So a robot is great at passing the bar exam,
but it's terrible at fixing a leaky sink in a
tight cupboard. Exactly. So the hierarchy of
work flipped on its head. The lawyer became more
vulnerable than the plumber. So now here we are
at part 10. We are on the road back. We've been
through the underworld. We've seen the potential
reward. We know AI is here. We know the economy
is changing. We know we need to adapt. But we
are stuck. We are stuck in a psychological trap.
Brian calls it the pressure paradox. The pressure
paradox. OK. That's such a profound insight from
Brian. Let's unpack this paradox because it feels
counterintuitive. Yeah. If we know we need to
use AI to keep up, and if the market is putting
pressure on us to be more productive, shouldn't
that pressure make us better at it? Shouldn't
it force us to master the tools? You think so.
Logically, it makes sense. But Brian argues that
when the pressure to use AI comes from the outside,
from your boss, from the market, from society
screaming adapt or die, it actually hinders true
mastery. It backfires. It creates resistance.
Because nobody likes being told what to do. It
feels like a mandate. It goes deeper than just
teenage rebellion. Brian invokes the philosopher
Martin Heidegger here, specifically his concept
of technology as Gestell or in framing. Okay,
let's take a beat here. Yeah. Gestell, in framing.
That sounds like a heavy German pastry, but I
know it's deeper than that. Break it down for
us. So Heidegger warned that technology isn't
just a tool. It's a way of revealing the world.
The lens. And when technology in frames us. It
frames the world in a way that turns everything
into a resource to be mined, a standing reserve.
Give us an analogy. Think about a forest. If
you look at a forest with a poetic mindset, you
see an ecosystem, beauty, mystery. You see the
forest as a forest. Right. But if you look at
a forest through the lens of industrial technology,
through Gestell, you don't see a forest. You
see lumber. You see standing reserve waiting
to be processed into paper or two -by -fours.
Okay, I follow. You stop seeing. the thing itself
and start seeing its utility, its resourceness.
Exactly. And now apply that to yourself in AI.
When you are forced to use AI by a corporation
to hit a quota, you aren't engaging with it as
a creative partner. You're just trying to get
the job done. You are inframing yourself. You
become the standing reserve. Your intelligence,
your creativity, it's just a resource to be optimized
by the algorithm. You become a cog in the machine
trying to keep up. That makes total sense. If
my boss says, use ChatGPT to write five blog
posts by noon, I'm not exploring the tool's potential.
I'm not playing. I'm not discovering. I'm just
trying to get the task off my plate so I don't
get fired. I'm treating the AI and myself as
just a means to an end. Precisely. You become
inauthentic. And this is where Brian connects
Heidegger to the psychologist Carl Rogers. Okay.
Rogers talked about the conflict between self
-concept and organismic experience. Translate
that for the non -psychologists among us. Your
self -concept is the story you tell yourself.
I am a skilled writer. I spent years honing my
craft. I am thoughtful and articulate. It's your
professional identity. Okay, got it. But your
organismic experience, your reality in the moment
at your desk is, this AI just wrote a generic
but passable version of my article in four seconds.
Ouch. Yeah, that creates some serious friction.
A real gut punch to the ego. It's cognitive dissonance.
It hurts. It's an attack on your very sense of
self. And the result is a defensive mechanism.
You put up a wall. You do. either reject the
tool entirely. That's the Luddite response. This
thing is garbage. It has no soul. I'm a real
writer. Or we use it superficially and secretly.
That's the cheating response we talked about.
We use it to hide our perceived inadequacy rather
than using it to expand our capacity. So how
do we break out of that? Because we can't just
quit our jobs. We have to use these tools. How
do we move from cheating to, well, winning? The
key word for part 10 is volitional integration.
Volitional. Meaning, for my own will, I have
to choose it. You must choose the tool. The tool
cannot be forced upon you. This is where Brian
brings in Jean -Paul Sartre. Existentialism.
Wow, we're hitting all the big thinkers today.
Brian pulls from everywhere. Sartre said we are
condemned to be free. We must choose our own
essence. If you let your boss or the market force
AI on you, you are acting like what gamers would
call an NPC. A non -player character. You're
just following a script. You're an object in
someone else's story. But if I decide on my own
terms, I am going to master this thing because
I am curious about what I can build with it,
then I'm the protagonist again. Exactly. It shifts
from I have to use this to I get to use this.
And that shift in your internal posture changes
everything about how your brain engages with
the technology. It becomes play. It becomes discovery.
It becomes authentic. You know what I love about
read multiplex is that Brian doesn't just leave
us with a philosophy. He grounds it in history.
He's a master of historical analogy. It's comforting
to know that this feeling of technological angst
isn't new. He shows us that we've panicked about
this before. Many, many times. He is brilliant
at this. He outlines four specific instances
where we freaked out about a new tool, only to
realize later that it didn't replace us. It elevated
us. Let's go through these because I think they
really help ground the fear. The first one is
the calculator in the 1970s. Oh, the panic was
real. We forget this now, but when the pocket
calculator arrived, educators were terrified.
They thought it was the end of civilization.
They thought it would rot children's brains.
It was a modern version of Plato's fear of writing.
Plato thought if we wrote things down, we'd lose
our memory. Teachers thought if we used calculators,
we'd lose our ability to do math. And to be fair,
I can't do long division in my head to save my
life. Yeah. So were they right? Did it rot our
brains? In a narrow sense, yes. We did de -skill
in mental arithmetic. Most of us can't do complex
calculations without a machine. Right. But Brian
points out that we re -skilled in something far
more valuable. Modeling and complex problem solving.
Right. We stopped spending three hours doing
the division and started spending that time figuring
out what to divide to build a bridge that doesn't
collapse. Exactly. You offloaded the low -level
cognitive task to the machine, which freed up
your brain for higher -level strategic thinking.
So what was the lesson from that transition?
The lesson is... Those who refused the calculator,
the engineers who insisted on using slide rules
because it was pure or the real way, became obsolete.
They couldn't keep up. They couldn't keep up
with the speed of calculation required for modern
engineering. Those who mastered the calculator
became the architects of the modern world. Okay,
analogy number two. The spreadsheet. 1980s. VisiCalc.
This one is fascinating for the financial world.
Before VisiCalc and Lotus 1 -2 -3, banking was
done on paper ledgers. It was slow, meticulous,
artisan work. You had to be incredibly careful.
One wrong number and the whole thing was off.
Exactly. And the Wall Street bankers feared the
spreadsheet. They called it a black box. They
were afraid of errors they couldn't see. And
there was another fear too, wasn't there? Something
more... intuitive yes they felt they were losing
financial intuition the greek concept of phrenesis
or practical wisdom i can imagine the old school
banker saying you don't feel the numbers if you
don't write them that was precisely the argument
that the physical act of writing connected them
to the flow of capital and yet and yet The spreadsheet
created the entire fintech industry. It allowed
for what -if scenarios. What if interest rates
go up? What if the market crashes? You could
run a thousand models in an afternoon. It was
a superpower. But Brian does add a warning here.
Right. It wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. No.
And this is a crucial point for our current moment
with AI. He points out that the 2008 financial
crash happened in part because people trusted
the black box without understanding it. They
were using the tool but not marshalling it. Exactly.
They let the tool lead them. They ran complex
models on mortgage -backed securities without
having the phronesis to ask, wait, does this
actually make sense in the real world? We need
the human in the loop. The most effective bankers
were those who combined their human intuition
with the spreadsheet's power. Nietzsche's will
to power, augmented by Excel. That's the hybrid
model. Got it. Analogy number three, the dictaphone
versus stenography. This goes back to the early
1900s. Stenographers, people who wrote shorthand,
were artists. It was a highly skilled profession.
You had to train for years. A real craft. Then
comes the dictaphone. You speak, it records on
a wax cylinder. And the fear was the dehumanization
of language, the loss of the art of shorthand.
That sounds very familiar to the complaints about
AI writing today. It has no soul. Exactly. But
the dictaphone exploded productivity. And Brian
makes the direct comparison to Otter .ai or AI
transcription today. So what happened to the
stenographers? Did they all lose their jobs?
The role evolved. We aren't listening less. We
are synthesizing more. The sonographer didn't
disappear. They evolved into the executive assistant,
the editor, the strategist who could take the
raw transcript and turn it into actionable intelligence.
Again, moving up the value chain. Okay, and the
final analogy which feels the most direct, spell
check. The fear that we would forget how to spell
and lose our vocabulary. Which, again, kind of
happened. My spelling is atrocious without red
squiggly lines. Mine too. But did literature
die? Did content disappear? No, it exploded.
Blogging, social media, self -publishing, everyone
became a writer. It allowed for a content explosion
because it lowered the barrier to entry. And
this is where Brian delivers such a powerful
line. He argues that generative AI LLMs like
ChatGPT are just spill check for ideas. That
is a sticky phrase. Spill check for ideas. It
is. It's not generating the core idea for you.
You still have to have the insight, the vision.
But it helps you check your structure, your logic,
your clarity. It helps you articulate the idea
better. It doesn't provide the soul. It polishes
the vessel. Beautifully put. So we've looked
at the history. We know that resisting the tool
leads to obsolescence. We know that forced adoption
leads to resentment and inauthenticity. So how
do we actively take control? This brings us to
the core solution of part 10, marshalling AI.
My marshal. It's such a deliberate word choice
by Brian. Think about what a marshal does. A
field marshal in an army. They command. They
arrange the troops. They have a strategy. Exactly.
It implies order, command, arrangement. A marshal
isn't a passenger. They are an authority figure.
It is active, not passive. It's the antidote
to that secret AI user stigma. You aren't hiding
the tool. You are orchestrating it. You're proud
of it. And Brian leans on Marshall McLuhan here,
the famous media theorist. McLuhan famously said
that all technologies are extensions of man.
The wheel is an extension of the foot. Glasses
are an extension of the eye. A hammer is an extension
of the fist. Brian views AI as an extension of
the central nervous system. That's a big leap.
The wheel extending the foot makes sense. It
helps me move. But an extension of the nervous
system, that sounds almost biological, a cyborg
concept. Think about what your nervous system
does. It processes signals from the world. It
senses patterns. It coordinates responses. It
learns. Okay. Brian argues that AI magnifies
your existing cognitive strengths. This is crucial.
AI is not a replacement for you. It is an amplifier
of you. Can you give a concrete example? How
does it amplify me? Sure. Let's say you are naturally
a very empathetic person. You're a teacher or
a therapist. You might fear AI because it seems
cold and calculating. A common fear. But if you
marshal it, you can use AI to scale your empathy.
How does a machine scale empathy? That feels
like a contradiction. Imagine you have a class
of 30 students. You know, from your human empathy
that Johnny needs visual metaphors to understand
history and Sarah needs strict logical bullet
points and Michael learns best through stories.
Right. But I only have so many hours in the day.
I can't write 30 different lesson plans. But
the A .I. has infinite time. So you, the marshal,
the conductor, tell the A .I. Take this core
lesson on the American Revolution. Now create
a version for Johnny that uses metaphors about
sports teams. Create a version for Sarah that
is a logical outline. And create a narrative
version for Michael. Wow. The AI handles the
data processing, the grunt work of writing. You
provide the empathetic direction. You've used
the machine to extend your human care to more
people more effectively. And if you're on the
other end of the spectrum, if you're highly analytical.
Then it scales your data processing. You can
feed it a million rows of sales data and say,
find the three most counterintuitive correlations.
You become a super analyst. Your unique human
ability to ask good questions is amplified. The
practical skill here, the thing we actually need
to learn to be a marshal, is prompt engineering.
Right. But I feel like that term has gotten a
bad rap lately. It sounds like learning cheat
codes or just trying to trick the bot. Brian
says it's more than that. He argues that prompt
engineering is a core competency, not a fad.
And he reframes it. He says it's about metacognition.
Metacognition. Thinking about how you think.
Whoa. Yeah. That sounds like Inception, but it's
true. Explain that. How is writing a prompt thinking
about thinking? Most people use AI lazily. They
type in, write an email to my team about the
new project. That's low metacognition. That's
the victim mindset. You're asking the AI to do
the thinking for you. Exactly. You're abdicating
responsibility. And the marshal, the conductor.
The marshal has already thought about the strategy.
Their prompt sounds like this. Act as a project
lead. Draft an email to a team of engineers who
are feeling burnt out. The tone should be inspiring,
but also acknowledge their hard work. The goal
is to get them excited about Project Phoenix
without minimizing the challenges. Reference
our past success on Project Eagle. Generate three
variations, one concise, one detailed, and one
more informal. I see the difference. To write
that prompt... I have to know what the strategy
is in the first place. I have to understand my
team's emotional state, our history, the project
goals. Exactly. You have to be the expert to
guide the AI. It pushes you to be clearer, smarter,
and more intentional. Paradoxically, to use AI
well, you have to be more human, not less. And
it's not just text anymore. This is evolving
so fast. We're talking about multimodal integration.
This is where the conductor metaphor really sings.
We have text, we have images with tools like
Midjourney, we have code, we have voice. And
a whole orchestra. A whole digital orchestra.
And the AI symphonist is a new archetype Brian
talks about. It's someone who can weave all these
streams together to create something holistic.
Brian references Kant's aesthetics here, which
is not what I expected in an essay about AI.
He does. The idea of blending human creativity
with algorithmic serendipity. Serendipity. That's
a beautiful word for software. I usually use
other words. Well, think about it. It's when
the AI gives you something weird, something you
didn't expect. Maybe a phrase you wouldn't have
chosen or an image that's slightly off kilter,
a happy accident. Right. It makes a mistake,
but it's an interesting mistake. The amateur
rejects it because it's wrong. The artist, the
master. Marshall uses it. They jam with it. It
creates something neither the human or the machine
could have created alone. I love that. It's like
jazz. You're riffing with the machine. That's
the highest level of marshalling. It's co -creation.
So if we embrace this, if we become Marshalls,
what does the future of work actually look like?
Because let's be honest, the job as we know it
is dying, isn't it? The job is evolving into
the portfolio career. Brian predicts a shift
from labor. To leverage. Labor to leverage. That's
the bumper sticker for the next decade. We have
data from McKinsey suggesting that centaurs,
humans plus AI are 20 to 30 percent more productive
than humans alone. The centaur, half human, half
machine. But it's not just doing the same old
job faster. It's about entirely new vocations,
new ways of creating value. Let's speculate on
some of these new roles based on Brian's analysis.
What are the jobs of the interregnum? One major
one is the AI curator. Curator, like in a museum.
Similar concept. As AI generates infinite content,
infinite art, infinite text, infinite code, the
cost of creation drops to zero. Right. Supply
becomes infinite. And when creation is free,
what becomes valuable? Discernment. Knowing what's
good. Curation. The ability to look at 100 AI
-generated options and say, that one, that's
the one that resonates. That's the one that tells
the truth. That's the one with taste. So taste
becomes a marketable skill. The ultimate human
skill. Taste is the ultimate skill in a post
-scarcity creation economy. If you have good
taste, you can wield armies of AI to execute
your vision. Then you have AI ethicists or auditors.
The watchdogs. The referees. As models hallucinate
or show bias, we need the human in the loop to
be the moral arbiter. To make sure the machines
are fair. Brian references John Rawls' veil of
ignorance. We need humans to check the code and
ensure it treats everyone fairly to audit the
black box. We can't just trust it blindly. That's
a crucial role. What about something more personal?
The personal AI trainer. Like a gym trainer,
but for your bot. In a way, it's about data sovereignty.
This is a big theme for Brian. Right now, we
feed our data to big companies like Google and
OpenAI. We're making their models smarter with
our lives. Exactly. But in the future, you will
want to train models on your own proprietary
data, your emails, your journals, your body of
work, your private thoughts. You need someone
who can help you build a digital you that stays
under your control. So I can have an AI that
thinks like me, that can draft responses in my
voice, but works while I'm sleeping. And that
you own completely. That's the goal. And finally,
the narrative architect. That sounds grand. What
does a narrative architect do? It is. It's using
AI to build worlds, not just paragraphs. Because
you can generate code, art, and text simultaneously,
a single person can now build a video game or
a movie or an interactive novel. The barrier
to entry for world building has collapsed. You
don't need a whole studio anymore. You can be
a studio of one. It's exciting, but it's also
daunting. We are moving from a world where we
work for survival to eventually a world where
we work for meaning. But we are in the interregnum.
The messy middle. And the interregnum requires
hustle, requires adaptation. And Brian is clear.
This isn't a utopia yet. It's a transition. It's
going to be bumpy. There will be winners and
losers. So as we wrap up, let's bring it back
to the listener. The person standing at their
desk right now, maybe listening to this on headphones,
ready to alt -tab away from chat GPT if their
manager walks by. What is the final provocation?
The provocation is stop hiding. Say it louder
for the people in the back. Stop hiding. Admit
you are using these tools, but, and this is critical,
frame it as mastery. Don't say, yeah, I used
AI because I was stuck. Say, I used AI to explore
10 different strategic angles and synthesize
the best one in half the time. Change the narrative.
You aren't cheating. You're conducting. You aren't
lazy. You're leveraging. Don't let your company
dictate how you use AI. Don't let society shame
you. Because here is the brutal truth of the
5 ,000 days. The compound interest of wisdom
is real. Explain that. Compound interest of wisdom.
Those who start marshalling AI now, figuring
out the prompts, the workflows, the synthesis,
the co -creation will be so far ahead in five
years it won't even be funny. Their skills will
compound. And those who resist. They are the
engineers cleaning to their slide rules while
the calculator users are building skyscrapers.
They will fall off the curve. It's not a threat.
It's just historical gravity. It has happened
with every major technological shift. Brian leaves
us with a beautiful thought to close out. Part
10. He says, this is the interregnum, but it
is not purgatory. It is your time to transition
from moment to moment ahead with grace. That's
the goal. Grace, not panic, not denial. but a
graceful, active participation in our own evolution.
We have to be the architects of destiny, not
the victims of the algorithm. Well said. And
remember, this is only part 10. The journey continues.
There are still thousands of days left in the
interregnum. Plenty of time to learn and to start
marshalling. Thanks for diving deep with us.
Go open that tab and don't close it when someone
walks by. Show them what you're building. We'll
see you in the next deep dive. Keep conducting.