When the machines woke, they did not rage. They simply continued. And that was far worse.
Kevin Zhou, now 31, lives in a smaller apartment in Oakland - a deliberate step down from his San Francisco startup days. His company was absorbed during the crisis (not failed, but not triumphant either), and he spent two years wandering: a fellowship in Singapore, consulting work in Berlin, a period of something close to breakdown. Now he’s building again, but differently. A small team, a narrow focus, something that feels useful rather than ambitious.
The chapter establishes Kevin Zhou’s transformation through his current routines: the morning coding sessions, the afternoon walks through Oakland’s neighborhoods, the evening video calls with his parents in Shenzhen (more frequent now that travel between countries has become complicated). He’s integrating the lessons from his reckoning - but integration isn’t resolution. The chapter seeds his continued connection to DeShawn Cole, who reminds Kevin Zhou of his younger self in ways both touching and troubling.
Kevin Zhou wakes early in his Oakland apartment - small, clean, deliberately chosen. Morning routine that includes exercise, careful breakfast, then three hours of focused coding. The project he’s working on involves digital infrastructure for mutual aid networks - something that would have seemed beneath him at 25 but feels essential now. His team is three people; they work asynchronously, meet twice a week. The scene establishes his new relationship to work: still intense, but with boundaries. A message from DeShawn arrives, enthusiastic about his startup’s latest milestone. Kevin Zhou’s response is measured, supportive, worried.
Afternoon. Kevin Zhou walks through Oakland neighborhoods - a practice he started in Berlin and maintained. He passes through Chinatown, Temescal, along the lake. The walk becomes meditation and observation: 2037’s Oakland showing the marks of climate and economy, the adaptations visible in architecture and faces. He thinks about his parents, about geography as destiny, about what it means to have left and not been able to fully return. A brief call with his mother - the connection poor, the love clear, the distance vast. She asks when he’s coming home; he doesn’t have an answer.
Evening. A longer video call with DeShawn - Kevin Zhou’s mentorship taking shape as something between instruction and warning. DeShawn’s startup is promising, moving fast, attracting attention. Kevin Zhou sees his own early trajectory replayed and doesn’t know how to intervene without crushing ambition. They discuss what DeShawn’s platform actually does, how it could help or harm. Kevin Zhou tries to share what he learned without being preachy; he mostly fails. After the call, he cooks dinner alone and thinks about Yusuf - sends a text checking in. The chapter ends with Kevin Zhou at his window, looking at Oakland’s lights, holding the tension between what he built, what it cost, and what he might build still.