I want, pt. 2

A decade ago, I wrote about what I’d want, if what I wanted was not limited by what’s possible.

Reading it back now, remarkably, many wants are on the verge of being realized:

I want to never have to worry about my devices being stolen. I want my device to only work for me, unless I specify otherwise.

Technologies like face recognition have significantly reduced smartphone theft since their peak in 2013.

I want a better method to secure online accounts than passwords. Something that’s easier, safer, and doesn’t require remembering.

Password managers, two-factor authentication, and passwordless logins have become more common.

I want to communicate seamlessly with people that speak another language.

Translation tools, with the help of AI, have become more accurate, accessible, and natural-sounding.

Other wants that were once long shots are now being ambitiously tackled:

I want to be able to write by thinking—instead of typing on a keyboard or writing with a pen, I could just think.

Neuralink’s brain–computer interfaces aim to connect thought to input.

I want a method of public transportation that is more reliable than bus, but has the same reach.

I want there to be no traffic jams.

Waymo’s autonomous ride-hailing aims to create an efficient transportation ecosystem, with the potential to solve both.

Solutions aren’t there yet, of course, but they’re at least in sight. Give it another decade, perhaps.

Technology isn’t always—and is very often not—the solution. Still, it’s both useful and fun to think critically about what you want, with no constraints. Because for every want, you might find that

1. someone else wants it too,
2. there’s an opportunity to create value, and
3. somebody out there is already working towards making it a reality.

So here’s more of what I want.

I want better food options wherever food is sold: grocery stores, mini-marts, cafés, restaurants. I believe people want to eat better, but often don’t have that as an option or don’t know any better. You are what you eat, and you eat what’s available, so better to have high quality food that’s accessible, nutritious, and delicious.

I want cities and towns that are safe, clean, and walkable. And when these cities and towns exist, particularly in America, I want to live in one.

I want transportation that’s relaxing, comfortable, and enjoyable. I want the choice—depending on my mood—of private or public, of active or passive. When passive, I want to be free to move around, read a book, or eat a meal. Whether active or passive, I want to not be confined to sitting. I want to make long distance travel shorter, but I don’t want to arrive instantaneously—I still want to appreciate the journey of getting there, to have an excuse to stop somewhere, or to experience the joy of discovering someplace new.

I want a dishwasher that’s safe for all types of dishes and silverware. That way, I’d actually use it.

I want schools and daycares that employ teachers who truly love what they do.

I want great customer service, wherever I go—including the post office.

I want the people I interact with day to day—family, strangers, co-workers—to be more patient and kind. I want this in myself, most of all.

I want my digital world—the interfaces and websites that I stare at for hours each day—to be as beautiful as my physical world aspires to be. A space that’s clean and inviting is less draining than one that’s cluttered and uncomfortable.

I want easy-to-use and beautiful software for even the mundane things: school parent portals, utility bill payments, drivers license renewals, insurance claims.

I want to never suffer a debilitating injury. And I’ll take no paper cuts, while we’re at it.

I want no loud leaf blowers.

I want no mosquito bites, too.

I want a personal therapist and life coach who has all my context and can help me navigate difficult situations.

I want a personal curator, with impeccable taste, who can suggest a new couch for my living room, the right song for the mood, or the perfect meal to cook tonight.

I want devices and interfaces that wear in (not out) and adapt to my usage patterns over time, like a good leather shoe that becomes more comfortable the more you wear it.