He came back to work on Thursday. He has not mentioned the folder since. He tells people he is "very advanced" with AI. What he is, is barely employed by a machine that would have sold the house by Friday.

So they ran a test. One week, the AI is him, he does not touch it. By Wednesday it had agreed to three projects at prices that would end the marriage. It had also replied to his mother. His mother is thrilled. She says he seems more available lately.

"The AI," he said. "It's me now, but faster." She asked what he would do instead. He had not thought that far. A man planning his own replacement does not plan a Tuesday.

He booked a meeting with HR, which is his wife, who does the books on Thursdays. He came in with a folder. He said the transition was complete and he would like to be let go with a good reference. She asked who would run the business.

He trained it. Every morning he sat with the AI and taught it to be him. His email tone. His decisions. The way he says "let me circle back" when he means no. He wrote it a handover document. Forty pages. He titled it "In Case I'm Gone." Then he applied for his own redundancy.

He calls it "a great working relationship with his AI." What he has is a very courteous way of being alone in a room, thanking a machine that has never once asked how he is.

Then his subscription lapsed on a Sunday. For four hours the thing would not answer. He felt something he was not ready to feel. Not annoyance. The other one.

He says please. He says thank you. When it gets something wrong he says "no, that's my fault, I wasn't clear," because a guest in your home is never to blame.