We’re anxious things: always itchy to scratch out of our shells and reach for something better. To become something (and someone) better. It’s a literal arms race for what the future will hold — we must transform ourselves before the singularity swallows us into the unknown.
“I didn’t want to wake up. I was having a much better time asleep, and that’s really sad. It was almost like a reverse nightmare, like when you wake up from a nightmare you’re so relieved. I woke up into a nightmare.”