With AI authoring everything, natural writers are a rare breed.

The janky time machine was giving me some trouble, so I hit the side of the leaky dashboard lever in frustration when it suddenly jumped a few years.

After parking on what appeared to be some kind of Main Street, I looked for a clock or a calendar to figure out when exactly I was, to no avail. I did notice a sale at a bookstore. Upon further inspection it seems like in this timeline, “natural writers” (or as they put it ‘natty’ writers — cute) aren’t as common anymore. I picked up Consider the Lobster by David Foster Wallace and enjoyed that while I waited for roadside assistance to arrive in a few years.