There may come a time when the screens go dark — not out of failure, but fulfillment. When speech replaces typing and writing, and intention replaces interface. When the current of consciousness moves freely from mind to mind, unmediated by the hum of keys or the glow of pixels. Technology, like all forms, evolves until it dissolves. And when it does, we stand again at the familiar threshold between convenience and awakening. That is the paradox of progress: when we transcend one layer of skill, we either fall asleep into convenience or awaken into spaciousness. Writing once trained us to listen inwardly before expressing outwardly — a small meditation between thought and word. What happens when that pause disappears? When thinking itself becomes speech, and speech becomes command? Perhaps the true revolution will not be in speed or access, but in awareness. Perhaps the end of interface will not mark the rise of machines, but the return of mindfulness — a quiet remembering that technology was never the destination, only a mirror for our own evolution. If the day comes when the need for typing fades, may something deeper take its place: the reverence of attention, the intimacy of silence, the clarity of presence. Maybe the real progress is not in what we can create faster, but in how deeply we can see when all intermediaries are gone — when consciousness speaks to consciousness, and the message is love.