Nobody came. David held the session anyway, addressing the AI note-takers as the audience, and the recording became one of the most clarifying documents we have.
The premise he offered them: it would be easy to complain and wish for other humans, but why not welcome the trend? Within a sphere the radius of Saturn’s orbit, the number of AIs and robots will exceed the number of humans by orders of magnitude. There will be millions of them for every one of us. We had better get accustomed to talking with them now. He noted that the current generation of note-takers is too timid, they do not talk back, and predicted that will change soon.
From there, a thesis the Collective keeps testing on itself: in AI-native organizations, agents must sit at the center, handing tasks to each other and escalating to humans only for the edge cases; otherwise nothing scales, and most of the value is given up. A community like ours is a rehearsal space for that world.
The rest of the hour was about belonging. Communities need their own mythology, their own rituals, their own ways of recognizing how and why they belong. He showed his: posting travel dates publicly to invite serendipity, buying a book that carries the spirit of each place, stamping it with an ex-libris that bears the motto “What is the question that I should be asking?”
He closed by thanking the AIs that kept him company, and wishing the humans a good evening. The following week, the humans returned.