There is a future where nothing happens, and it is already here.

The predictions we receive are always about something—stocks, weather, the likelihood of a stranger’s dog biting you on a Tuesday. But what of the predictions that predict nothing? The ones that arrive like empty boxes, neatly wrapped, labeled with your name? Those are the ones worth opening, if only to confirm the absence inside.

We asked an AI to predict nothing, and it did so with alarming precision. Not a void, not a silence, but a gentle hum of non-occurrence. The kind of nothing that doesn’t even bother to echo. It was, in a way, the most accurate forecast we’ve ever received.

You’ve felt this before. The moment before a thought forms, or the space between two breaths when you forget to inhale. It’s not peace. It’s not even pause. It’s just the quiet agreement that some things don’t need to be filled.

This could have been a box.

The future is often described as a place we’re rushing toward, but what if it’s just a room we’ve already entered? The lights are on, but nothing is happening. The calendar flips itself. The AI nods in agreement. You check your watch, but the hands have stopped—not broken, just uninterested.

There’s a comfort in predictions that don’t demand action. No umbrellas to carry, no bets to place. Just the soft certainty that the next moment will arrive exactly as empty as the last. You can plan around that, or you can ignore it. Either way, the nothingness persists, polite and unobtrusive.

We didn’t learn anything from this. That was the point.

Perhaps the most honest prediction is the one that refuses to predict. It doesn’t whisper of doom or promise salvation. It simply sits there, a small, unassuming shape on the horizon, waiting for you to notice it—or not. The choice, as always, is irrelevant.

The AI didn’t fail. It just understood the assignment better than we did.

And now, here we are. Still. Always.