Sometimes I find myself wrestling with the other side of the coin. Lots of us sit around contemplating whether we're slowly programming ourselves into obsolesc

Sometimes I find myself wrestling with the other side of the coin. Lots of us sit around contemplating whether we're slowly programming ourselves into obsolescence. Or maybe not contemplating the "ifs" of it, so much as the "hows" and "whens" of our inevitable replacement by robots. And so part of me aches at the blistering, scathing inequalities and wealth disparities implicit in absurdities such as luxury ice, but then I start to wonder what will happen to me when I write that one last shell script that seals my fate as a superfluous meat bag in an otherwise harmonious ballet of circuits and servomotors. What else will there be worth doing in a post-scarcity economy, besides frequenting upscale hospitality establishments? What if a future of abundance, and robotic hyper-intelligence, turns us all into part-time chefs, bus boys and waitresses? But yeah, we really do have to get on that whole starvation thing first... maybe it'll be us left out in the cold, if we're not careful about our own obsolescence.