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As a little kid, I clearly understood what my dad did for a living. He overhauled diesel engines, and some nights came home late covered in grease. After removing his dingy overalls, he would read “Garfield” comics to me while smoking a cigarette. One whiff of Winston reds and diesel brings me home.
My career, mostly odorless, is much harder to describe. My kids think I pay bills by staring at a screen and typing until someone gives me money. That’s painfully close to the truth.
The definition of work varies, though we each maintain a notion of honest labor. As Americans mark Labor Day 2025, this goal becomes murkier.
Consider how much work changed over the past century. The automation of agriculture, mining, manufacturing and clerical tasks disrupted millions of lives and entire communities. Unions rose to grow the middle class but now ebb as we grind our way through the hustle economy. Meantime, we wrestle with health afflictions caused by sitting too much or the wrong way.
Today, artificial intelligence shapes the agenda of big business, raising one final question. After automating almost everything, what happens if machines replace our last marketable asset: our brain?
That’s certainly the fear and, though perhaps overwrought at times, I worry about this, too. AI is a remarkable tool. It’s catching my errors as I write and would readily rewrite this column if asked. You wouldn’t even need me, except for the part about my dad and this next part, where I drive out to the woods to explore what honest creative work looks like in the age of AI.