So here I am waiting to get started on a senior center I’m building. Eight stories, 300 units, right in the middle of lower Manhattan, it would give the people what they wanted—safe, walkable neighborhoods, a cool-looking façade and techno-supported microapartments meeting their every need.
I should have known there’d be trouble when the union guys rolled my builder bots out into 22nd Street and gave the Sensor-Traff system something to think about redirecting downtown traffic. My bots weren’t any too happy either, their little RFID voices complaining bitterly through half the night. But the workers were pissed and had been for years. Computers were taking over and taking their jobs away.