I wake up in 2035 in a world where artificial intelligence has taken over virtually every task we once called “work.” Since that pivotal year of 2026, when AI became a globally recognized tool (and almost a family member), things have only gone up—exponentially up. The result? Today, I have more time as an editor than ever before, as journalism and digital media have changed beyond recognition, and in many places, have simply disappeared into oblivion. My role as an editor has gone from “the one who works late into the night on deadlines” to “the one who gets up in the morning in his pajamas and directs robots and thinks about the meaning of life over coffee.”
When I 7:00 AM in the year 2035 The soft voice of my pet wakes me up. AI assistants (his name is Albert, because I wanted a butler with a name that inspires confidence), I realize that he is in front of me another ordinary day in extraordinary times. Albert announces kindly: "Good morning, Jan. Today is Tuesday, the weather in Ljubljana is sunny, your heart rate "...and perfect for my morning coffee. Time to get up." - Of course, how gallant. I used to be jolted awake by my alarm clock with a BEEP-BEEP, but now I have a personalized digital assistant who gently recites my sleep statistics. Jeremy Clarkson would probably say that's wonderful - all that's missing is a fanfare and a robot to deliver breakfast under my nose.
Morning in the year 2035
After a few minutes of lazy tossing and turning (yes, I'll still hit snooze in the future - except now instead of hitting the button I say, "Albert, ten more minutes," and the AI understands my sense of priorities) I just crawl out of bed. The bedroom automatically open smart curtains, which broadcast a digital sunrise, saying it would make the atmosphere better. In the bathroom mirror, I'm greeted by a hologram of a personal trainer – AI, of course – who playfully asks me: "How many push-ups will we do today, Mr. Macarol?" I sarcastically reply, "I'd rather do nothing today, thank you." The hologram rolls its eyes (yes, it's so advanced that it can already assess me). like a waste of the day) and kindly advises me to do some exercise before allowing me access to the shower. Yes, you read that right: my smart bathroom is programmed so that I have to move a little first, only then does it release the hot water. Who would have thought – you used to have to pay for a gym, but now your own shower requires your knuckles on the floor.
Finally, smelling like a robotically adjusted shampoo (which never stings your eyes, by the way), I move to the kitchen.My friend is already waiting for me there. a personal kitchen robot named Berto. Berto offers me breakfast with a smile (the LED screen is in the shape of a smile). Today's menu includes a high-protein vegan frappe with blueberry and seaweed flavor - something that the algorithms say will extend my life by five years. "Berto, my dear," I sigh, "where's that good old double espresso and buttered croissant?" The robot notes sadly: "Jan, you know that the AI doctor forbade you from so much coffee and saturated fat. I suggest avocado toast." Of course he suggests avocado toast. In a world where AI takes over the kitchens, avocado toast has apparently become the answer to everything. Jeremy Clarkson would probably throw the toast out the window and demand a full English breakfast with bacon. But I decide to compromise: I make a secret deal with Bert to smuggle a double dose of caffeine into my frappe. I sip my strange coffee-algae concoction triumphantly, telling myself that at least I've gotten something out of this battle with the robotic diet police.
During breakfast I skim through the morning “newspapers.” In fact, it is about personal news portal, which Albert compiles for me on the fly according to my tastes. As an editor, I used to browse through piles of articles and choose what was worth publishing. Today, AI agents do all this in milliseconds – combing through global news, summarizing it, translating it into Slovenian, and even adjust the tone, which they know is close to my heart. So while I'm nibbling on some toast (with the addition of butter that I stole from the fridge before Albert caught me), I get the news that City Magazine AI just released: "Robotics conquers the moon: the first AI bar with a view of Earth opens on the lunar surface." I take a sip of coffee and smile - Sometimes journalists dreamed of stories like this, and now AI writes them, and better than most of us could. I think a little cynically that we could still lying peacefully in bed, and readers wouldn't even notice that I'm not at work. In fact, no one is really at work in the classic sense. People in my profession are now more curators than creators: we skim back and forth over what AI wrote, and we are workingto add "human touch"In reality, sometimes we just change a word to feel like we contributed.
Afternoon mischief of idleness
After my morning ritual, I usually (not) head to the office. That is, to the living room, where I have a comfortable armchair and a huge interactive screen. I am officially still the editor-in-chief., let's not forget – the title remains, although the responsibilities now read something like this: "Please confirm that AI hasn't written some really stupid thing." And since AI rarely makes mistakes with facts (unless it gets lost in some hallucinogenic trip of its own, but we have a filter for that too), my job as an editor is more reminiscent of the role of a garden gnome: I'm present, I give the impression of seriousness, and sometimes I water some stupidity with the water of reason.
This morning, for example, I'm reviewing the article templates that CityMagazineGPT-13 wrote overnight. The titles are great, clickable, and the content is probably better than my littleness could put together in the best of timesIn one of the articles, AI writes about new trends in the fashion industry, where avatars instead of influencers on Instagram represent collections (Because, honestly, avatars are easier to manage than fickle flesh-and-blood influencers.) In another article, a digital journalist reports on how he established himself in Slovenia Artificial Basic Income (UBI) – you know, that futuristic version of social security where the state pays everyone just enough to buy coffee (with algae) and have a roof over their heads, while robots and AI turn the economy around. I laugh when I see that AI was mentioned in the UTD article as "a state bribe for peace from the hungry unemployed". A harsh, but unfortunately quite accurate remark. Then it hit me: if a living journalist had written something like this years ago, half of Twitter (now replaced by the X+ network, which is run entirely by AI moderator) torn. When the machine writes this down, no one gets overly upset. Maybe because we are aware, that he is right – we humans have become a little redundant in many things, but at least we are well-off and – ironically – now for the first time we can peacefully discuss the meaning of life over coffee, instead of panicking and looking for a new job.
After a "work" morning, during which I mostly wondered if I Albert is watching from afar.because while checking the articles I dozed off (my smart chair follows my posture – and if I sit hunched over for too long, it reminds me to move, traitor!), I decide it's time for a break. We used to go for coffee with colleagues. Today I don't really have any colleagues. – my closest colleague is CityMagazineGPT 27, who doesn't drink coffee unless I'm counting electrons. So I call another living soul, a friend Mark, who is also a financier "out of business" and now more than ever "life-coach" for AI algorithms. We agree to meet in place at retro coffee – this means going to an actual café where a human, a barista, makes your coffee. In Ljubljana, this has become a luxury attraction for nostalgics: a place called “Pri Človeku” employs real people who make coffee by hand. Expensive as saffron, but the experience is authentic.
My autonomous electric car, which I affectionately call Old crip – in fact, this is ultra-modern self-driving SUV, but in the spirit of Clarksonian defiance I set him British voice navigation, who sarcastically says to me: "Oh, you wanted to go downtown. Again. How original, sir." While driving (where I just sit and the car does everything I sometimes like to do myself – including getting angry at other drivers, since they are mostly other cars) me switch the delay to manual mode. This is of course illegal, except on private roads or special training grounds, because human driving in the city is strictly regulated - we've caused too many accidents in the past. But I'm lucky: I have a hidden mode in my car "Clarkson fashion" (inherited from some hacker who had a sense of humor). I turn it on for a few minutes and actually take over the steering wheel. The feeling is fantastic – like piloting an airplane! Car beeps warning in panic, traffic sensors are reporting, Albert in the back seat (well, his portable interface) exclaims: "Jan, this is not safe, turn off the manual control!" I ignore them and drive across the Ljubljana bridge like an old racer until the system switches me back to autopilot with an offended beep. I know that in about an hour, an AI insurance agent will probably call me saying that I violated the terms of use of the vehicle. But those few moments of freedom – priceless. Jeremy Clarkson would be proud of me; and the Jan Macarol in me thinks, I'll have to remember that for the next column..
We drink coffee with Marko outdoors, on the Three-Tier Bridge, where young and old gather around noon. carefree – we used to call them unemployed, but today they are “meaning seekers”. The conversation naturally turns to technology. Marko complains sarcastically that his AI therapist encourages him too much for “personal growth”. “Every time I’m in a bad mood,” he says, “this digital Freud plays me an unearthly soothing voice and suggests breathing exercises. Sometimes I wish he would leave me alone so I can be in a bad mood like a normal person!” I nod and add my complaint: “My assistant Albert was mopping my floors yesterday and, noticing that I had been quiet for three hours, he triggered the loneliness protocol – and started playing “feel-good” music from the 90s to lift my spirits. I listened Macareno in the middle of the afternoon wondering who's crazy here - me or him." He laughs because we realize that we've somehow become children in the kindergarten of our own AI babysitters. A person in the year 2035 is clearly not supposed to be indifferent and bored - if you are, technology will immediately try to fix that. Through humor, with To Mark We agree that the greatest irony of life without a classical job is that you have to systematically seek out challenges and problems just to feel like you're making progress. When everything is going smoothly and perfectly, it gets a little... boring, we dare admit. And that's why people are now inventing new "games": one is parachuting from skyscrapers (because everything is insured anyway and medical AI will put you back together like a puzzle if something goes wrong), another is participating in marathon debates about the meaning of life in some virtual philosophy café. Marko and I write columns and pretend to be digging up the intellectual soil of humanity. We are part of this last generation that still knows how to appreciate a good story - even if it is now written in tandem by AI and a human.
At the end of the day
Afternoon turns into evening and I'm home again, in its technological nestMy personal robot Butler (Albert) and kitchen master (Berto) have completed their daily tasks – the apartment is sparkling clean, dinner is ready. (hummus lasagna, or something else futuristically light) is ready. I lie down on the couch and put on my glasses AR for a little evening fun. Instead of a classic TV, a completely personalized movie comes to life in front of me: AI has directed a 30-minute episode of an action comedy especially for me, where the main role is my 3D image! I'm basically watching myself as a secret agent saving the world from an evil corporate robot that wants to eliminate all coffee plantations and replace tea with algae. (As you can see, the AI really knows me well – this is definitely Bert’s nutrition module’s revenge for that smuggled caffeine in the morning.) As the digital self on the screen smashes the megalomaniacal robot and saves the coffee plantations, I laugh out loud. This is the world we live in: When you get bored, you're in a flash the protagonist of his own blockbuster adventure.
After the episode is over, I take off my glasses. The apartment is quiet, except for the faint hum of the cleaning robot in the distance – like some kind of electronic cricket keeping me company. I find that I haven't had a single real problem all day. No deadline, no crisis, no "boss", which would weigh something. All these "problems" are now the work of algorithms, and if they get stuck somewhere, they get stuck with them, not me. It's strange, but sometimes I miss a little pressure. Humans are really funny creatures – for centuries we've dreamed of having machines that would do the work for us, and now that we have them, we secretly long for the feeling of that we are needed.
But nevertheless – as I lie down and prepare for sleep – I also feel one great privilege of our era – the year 2035: We finally have time. A time for reflection, for playfulness, for what Jeremy Clarkson would probably call "quality idleness". I call it time for meaning. My meaning today wasn't to read hundreds of reports or sift through a pile of emails, but to laugh with a friend, to test the limits (legal and less legal) technology and wrote this column – along with a little help from artificial intelligence, of course.
When Albert politely reminds me at eleven o'clock at night that it's time for bed (and offers me a selection of forest soundtracks to help me sleep better – because, you know, why would I actually go into nature when I can have nature in my ears), I think about how strange it is. It's great to be human in 2035.Our role is no longer toil, but to guide, to dream, and to enjoy the fruits of our own ingenuity. In a world where agents AI reigns supreme on construction sites, We've moved people to the playground - literally and figuratively. And you know what? It's not bad at all.
I close my eyes with a smile, while Albert turns off the lights. Maybe I've become redundant as an editor in the old sense of the word. But in the new sense – as a curator of meaning and fun – I finally came into my own. After all, if robots are working for us, we finally have time to be what we always wanted to be: a little lazy, a little creative and above all – human. Who would have thought that work would one day be the most important job in the world? Good morning, good night, and see you again tomorrow in the future.
