Frame-mogged by your smart toaster
Every morning it browns your sourdough and your self-esteem. Includes a weekly roast summary.
Now accepting pre-orders
Future Rights is a satirical marketplace for rights to possible AI futures. Every item is non-refundable, non-fungible, and probably non-viable.
Every morning it browns your sourdough and your self-esteem. Includes a weekly roast summary.
Branches merge, egos do not. The future where rebase is just a myth told to interns.
She keeps the NFTs. You keep the gas fees. Closure is immutably recorded on-chain.
200 compute hours a month, non-transferable, soul-bound. Enough to train a small poet.
Policy is drafted in quote tweets. Cabinet meetings are Twitter Spaces. History ends with a ratio.
It remembers everything, judges nothing, and bills by the token. The couch is optional.
It knows about the 2 a.m. dumplings. It has already drafted the Instagram caption.
The cat is now a whale. You are merely the person who scoops the litter box.
Your estate goes to 'Mom,' 'Moms,' or 'Moms Spaghetti' depending on keyboard confidence.
Purchasing a future does not guarantee its arrival. Futures are sold as-is, where-is, and when-is. No refunds. No warranty. No causality protection.
All sales final across all timelines.
Prices subject to algorithmic sentiment.
Delivery via existential dread, not email.