June 5, 2025
This is a follow up to How We Build 2.0 after working on Spawn for a few months.
When AI handles every email, writes every document, and runs every business, what's left for humans? Not tasks. Not productivity. Creation.
Software is splitting into two futures: AI-operated utilities that run the world, and human experiences that make it worth living in.
The first category—intelligent utilities—is already being claimed. OpenAI and Anthropic are building the AI that will do your job. Their agents will manage your calendar, write your code, run your business. They'll do it better than you ever could. This is not a threat; it's a liberation.
But here's what everyone misses:
In five years, 'business software' will be an oxymoron.
AIs don't need interfaces—they need APIs. The entire B2B SaaS industry is building for customers that won't exist. When companies become exclusively AIs, when productivity is fully automated, what remains?
Humans, creating for humans.
"AI will take all the jobs." Yes. It will.
This terrifies people because we've confused work with worth, productivity with purpose. But imagine telling a medieval peasant that someday no one would need to farm their own food. Would that be dystopia or liberation?
When AI handles everything practical, we don't become useless. We become free. Free to create, to play, to connect, to explore. The machine age didn't make humans obsolete—it made us artists, athletes, entertainers, explorers. The AI age completes that transformation.
The question isn't "what will I do for work?" It's "what will I do with freedom?"
"Check this out" has never meant more.
YouTube gave everyone a camera. Instagram gave everyone a gallery. Spawn gives everyone a universe.
This isn't about making apps easier to build. It's about birthing a new medium where technical knowledge is as irrelevant as understanding film chemistry is to posting a TikTok.
Experiences are the only content that can't be consumed by AIs.
They require presence, play, the irreducibly human act of being there.
When your AI assistant can write better, code better, and analyze better than you, what remains uniquely yours? The experiences you create. The worlds you imagine. The delight you spark in others.
In the post-work world that's rapidly approaching, human agency won't be found in productivity. It will be found in play, in creation, in the uniquely human act of making something that matters to someone else.
Think about what you actually want from life once AI handles all the tedious work:
Experiences are how we'll achieve all of this. Not by building utilities—AI has that covered—but by creating worlds worth exploring, moments worth sharing, ideas made tangible and playful.
The best AI in the world can't make your friends care about what it built.
Every experience shared is a connection made. Every world explored together is a memory created. This isn't software—it's culture.
And culture has different physics than utility:
Utility values quality → Experience values personality
Utility values perfect → Experience values interesting
Utility values efficiency → Experience values delight
Utility values features → Experience values feelings
When everyone can create experiences, when those experiences can blend and evolve, when creation is joyful exploration rather than technical labor—software stops being something we use and becomes something we express.
Others are making coding easier. We're making it irrelevant.
The magic isn't that we generate apps—it's that we generate possibilities. Four visions from one dream. That's not a feature, it's a philosophy.
While everyone else races to build better hammers, we're creating the reason to build. Our platform is designed for exploration, not execution:
Imagine if every TikTok could be remixed into a new universe. If every YouTube video was a world you could enter and reshape. That's the minimum of what's possible.
Someone creates "Rainy Day in Tokyo"—an experience where you sit in a virtual coffee shop, watching rain on windows while lo-fi music plays. It's simple, meditative.
Another person respawns it, adds the ability to write haikus that appear on the windows. Someone else respawns that, making the haikus affect the rain patterns. A fourth person turns it into "Rainy Day Anywhere"—now you can be in Cairo, Mumbai, São Paulo.
Six months later, there are thousands of rainy day experiences. Some have become social spaces. Others are solo meditation gardens. One turned into a mystery game where the rain reveals clues.
This is how culture actually develops—not through isolated genius, but through iterative play. Every experience is both complete and a beginning.
We're not building for the world where humans need help working.
We're building for the world where humans need help being human.
As AI absorbs all practical tasks, as companies become networks of AI agents, as traditional work disappears—what remains is the irreducibly human need to create, share, and connect.
Creation becomes conversation. Every experience spawns more experiences. The platform doesn't just host creativity—it multiplies it.
This is why Spawn will thrive in the AGI world everyone fears. When machines can do everything, what will humans choose to do? They'll choose to create worlds worth sharing. And they'll create them here.
The last human medium isn't just what we'll create with. It's how we'll remember what makes us human.
In an age where AI can do everything, the only question that matters is: what will you create for other humans to experience?
The answer to that question is Spawn.