Well, my friends… let me tell you another story.
The other day, I heard whispers of a different kind of private meeting. Not about social media this time. This one was about the future of humanity itself.
Picture the room. It was a sprawling, glass-walled space, heavy with money and expectation.
At the center sat a massive mahogany table already nearly filled with the world's billionaires. But the room wasn’t just for the elite.
Lining the walls were journalists with their recorders flashing, influencers live-streaming to millions, and tech commentators hanging onto every single syllable as they were talking amongst one another.
They were mesmerized, waiting.
Then, the heavy doors opened for the final arrivals.
Elon Musk walked in. Confident. Restless. Focused. He was surrounded by a glowing carousel of slides—sleek rockets, humanoid robots, autonomous electric cars, and sprawling neural networks.
Right behind him came Bill Gates, composed and calm as ever.
As they took the last two empty seats at the head of the table, the typing and the whispering stopped.
Gates spoke, talking about AI assistants, digital ecosystems, optimization, automation, and ruthless efficiency.
The buzzword echoing off the glass walls?
“Productivity.”
Elon leaned forward, resting his hands on the heavy table, and addressed the glowing lenses of the cameras.
“AI will replace jobs, yes. But it will also create new ones. Eventually, work will be optional.”
...Optional. The influencers nodded.
The journalists furiously typed the headline. It sounded like a utopia.
But in the far corner of the room, standing in the shadows away from the ring lights—among the camera operators, the security guards, the catering staff, and the ordinary people who actually keep the world turning—a different energy started to brew.
A murmur rippled through that corner.
Optional for who?
Because when you sit at the center of a billionaire's table and say work is optional, it sounds very different to the people leaning against the wall.
Tell that to the single mother cleaning houses in Johannesburg just to keep the lights on.
Tell that to the security guard standing right there at the door, about to be replaced by an AI surveillance system.
Tell that to the call center agent muted by chatbots.
Tell that to the warehouse picker swapped out for a mechanical arm. Tell that to the taxi driver watching autonomous vehicles map his routes.
The influencers kept smiling, capturing Elon speaking about abundance and machines doing the heavy lifting so humanity can “pursue passion.”
But from the corner, a voice finally cut through the polished applause.
“Let’s slow this down.”
Heads turned. The cameras pivoted.
“You’re the richest man in the world, right?” the voice continued, steady and unafraid.
“And yet… when you bought Twitter and renamed it X… you borrowed billions to do it.
Forgive the question, but if you hold the world's greatest wealth, why are you borrowing money?
That’s like owning the biggest, most fertile farm in the country that makes you more money than you could actually spend, but knocking on your neighbour's door to ask for a loan to buy a chicken.
Something doesn’t quite add up.”
The room went dead silent. The billionaires stared down the length of the table.
A chair scraped against the hardwood floor.
From the back of the room, stepping out from the crowd of the unseen and overlooked, MySA walked forward.
MySA didn't walk to the center where the billionaires sat.
Instead, MySA pulled up a chair at the absolute far end of the table, remaining side-by-side with the ordinary people, looking straight down the barrel of the boardroom.
“Let’s move from your boardroom to your factory floors,” MySA said, asking the questions the journalists were too scared to print.
“On the production lines of Tesla, welding robots replaced skilled human welders. And we are told it is progress.
So, let’s ask five simple questions:
1. The welder who used to weld those car frames—is he still on the payroll, clocking in just to ‘observe’ the robot?
2. The assembly worker replaced by automated arms—was he carefully retrained into a higher-paying role, or was he simply erased from the roster?
3. The delivery driver pushed out by autonomous logistics—what exciting new position did you create for him?
4. The data entry clerk rendered obsolete by AI systems—how does she now buy groceries for her family?
5. The junior software tester replaced by AI code review—where does he go next when the entry-level door is locked?”
At the head of the table, the charts go up.
Productivity increases. Corporate profit margins rise.
Shareholders stand and clap.
“But the worker?” MySA asked, the voice echoing in the quiet room.
“They are handed a box and told to ‘reskill.’
Reskill into what?
Into building the very AI that will replace the next person in line?
Here is the uncomfortable truth: when billionaires speak about AI making work optional, they are not speaking from the perspective of the cleaner, the mechanic, the factory worker, or the cashier.
They are speaking entirely from the perspective of capital. AI, in your world, increases margins.
In the real world, AI replaces paychecks.”
The influencers had stopped recording. The journalists had stopped typing. They were just listening.
Because right then, the story changed. While the people at the head of the table build systems that centralize power and automate humanity out of relevance, MySA sat at the edge of the table and offered something entirely different.
No rockets. No Mars colonies. No borrowed billions.
Just something far more radical. Community.
“While Silicon Valley talks about replacing humans with machines,” MySA said, “we focus on empowering humans with visibility. While global tech giants optimize for cold automation, we optimize for local opportunity.
We don’t replace the small business owner with an algorithm.
We amplify them. We don’t tell the security guard his job is optional. We help local businesses grow so more real, tangible jobs are created. We don’t centralize wealth into sterile data centers.
We circulate it within the streets, the towns, and the communities that actually need it.
Because technology should serve humanity—not make it redundant.
The future shouldn’t belong to the few who hold the patents and own the machines.
It should belong to the many who wake up in the dark to build, clean, drive, repair, sell, and serve every single day.”
In a room full of billionaires speaking grandly about replacing people, MySA sat at the end of the table, standing firmly for protecting people.
And maybe, just maybe, that is the real innovation.
Not artificial intelligence. But human intelligence.
#MySAWell, my friends… let me tell you another story.
The other day, I heard whispers of a different kind of private meeting. Not about social media this time. This one was about the future of humanity itself.
Picture the room. It was a sprawling, glass-walled space, heavy with money and expectation.
At the center sat a massive mahogany table already nearly filled with the world's billionaires. But the room wasn’t just for the elite.
Lining the walls were journalists with their recorders flashing, influencers live-streaming to millions, and tech commentators hanging onto every single syllable as they were talking amongst one another.
They were mesmerized, waiting.
Then, the heavy doors opened for the final arrivals.
Elon Musk walked in. Confident. Restless. Focused. He was surrounded by a glowing carousel of slides—sleek rockets, humanoid robots, autonomous electric cars, and sprawling neural networks.
Right behind him came Bill Gates, composed and calm as ever.
As they took the last two empty seats at the head of the table, the typing and the whispering stopped.
Gates spoke, talking about AI assistants, digital ecosystems, optimization, automation, and ruthless efficiency.
The buzzword echoing off the glass walls?
“Productivity.”
Elon leaned forward, resting his hands on the heavy table, and addressed the glowing lenses of the cameras.
“AI will replace jobs, yes. But it will also create new ones. Eventually, work will be optional.”
...Optional. The influencers nodded.
The journalists furiously typed the headline. It sounded like a utopia.
But in the far corner of the room, standing in the shadows away from the ring lights—among the camera operators, the security guards, the catering staff, and the ordinary people who actually keep the world turning—a different energy started to brew.
A murmur rippled through that corner.
Optional for who?
Because when you sit at the center of a billionaire's table and say work is optional, it sounds very different to the people leaning against the wall.
Tell that to the single mother cleaning houses in Johannesburg just to keep the lights on.
Tell that to the security guard standing right there at the door, about to be replaced by an AI surveillance system.
Tell that to the call center agent muted by chatbots.
Tell that to the warehouse picker swapped out for a mechanical arm. Tell that to the taxi driver watching autonomous vehicles map his routes.
The influencers kept smiling, capturing Elon speaking about abundance and machines doing the heavy lifting so humanity can “pursue passion.”
But from the corner, a voice finally cut through the polished applause.
“Let’s slow this down.”
Heads turned. The cameras pivoted.
“You’re the richest man in the world, right?” the voice continued, steady and unafraid.
“And yet… when you bought Twitter and renamed it X… you borrowed billions to do it.
Forgive the question, but if you hold the world's greatest wealth, why are you borrowing money?
That’s like owning the biggest, most fertile farm in the country that makes you more money than you could actually spend, but knocking on your neighbour's door to ask for a loan to buy a chicken.
Something doesn’t quite add up.”
The room went dead silent. The billionaires stared down the length of the table.
A chair scraped against the hardwood floor.
From the back of the room, stepping out from the crowd of the unseen and overlooked, MySA walked forward.
MySA didn't walk to the center where the billionaires sat.
Instead, MySA pulled up a chair at the absolute far end of the table, remaining side-by-side with the ordinary people, looking straight down the barrel of the boardroom.
“Let’s move from your boardroom to your factory floors,” MySA said, asking the questions the journalists were too scared to print.
“On the production lines of Tesla, welding robots replaced skilled human welders. And we are told it is progress.
So, let’s ask five simple questions:
1. The welder who used to weld those car frames—is he still on the payroll, clocking in just to ‘observe’ the robot?
2. The assembly worker replaced by automated arms—was he carefully retrained into a higher-paying role, or was he simply erased from the roster?
3. The delivery driver pushed out by autonomous logistics—what exciting new position did you create for him?
4. The data entry clerk rendered obsolete by AI systems—how does she now buy groceries for her family?
5. The junior software tester replaced by AI code review—where does he go next when the entry-level door is locked?”
At the head of the table, the charts go up.
Productivity increases. Corporate profit margins rise.
Shareholders stand and clap.
“But the worker?” MySA asked, the voice echoing in the quiet room.
“They are handed a box and told to ‘reskill.’
Reskill into what?
Into building the very AI that will replace the next person in line?
Here is the uncomfortable truth: when billionaires speak about AI making work optional, they are not speaking from the perspective of the cleaner, the mechanic, the factory worker, or the cashier.
They are speaking entirely from the perspective of capital. AI, in your world, increases margins.
In the real world, AI replaces paychecks.”
The influencers had stopped recording. The journalists had stopped typing. They were just listening.
Because right then, the story changed. While the people at the head of the table build systems that centralize power and automate humanity out of relevance, MySA sat at the edge of the table and offered something entirely different.
No rockets. No Mars colonies. No borrowed billions.
Just something far more radical. Community.
“While Silicon Valley talks about replacing humans with machines,” MySA said, “we focus on empowering humans with visibility. While global tech giants optimize for cold automation, we optimize for local opportunity.
We don’t replace the small business owner with an algorithm.
We amplify them. We don’t tell the security guard his job is optional. We help local businesses grow so more real, tangible jobs are created. We don’t centralize wealth into sterile data centers.
We circulate it within the streets, the towns, and the communities that actually need it.
Because technology should serve humanity—not make it redundant.
The future shouldn’t belong to the few who hold the patents and own the machines.
It should belong to the many who wake up in the dark to build, clean, drive, repair, sell, and serve every single day.”
In a room full of billionaires speaking grandly about replacing people, MySA sat at the end of the table, standing firmly for protecting people.
And maybe, just maybe, that is the real innovation.
Not artificial intelligence. But human intelligence.
#MySA
