Late one recent night, I enlisted GPT-4 to fix my life. I began by soliciting broad-strokes summaries of my journalistic interests and an expedited five-step protocol for breaking in raw-denim jeans (if you know, you know). But after a few rounds, the asks became personal: "How can I tell if I'm overinvested in my career?" and "How do I sum up the volume of my work?" Before I knew it, I'd dredged my reserves of ennui into the early-morning hours, imploring the AI to supply me with maybe-consequential ways of doing--of becoming--better. The answers were sensible enough, delivered in the stiffly efficient prose of a try-hard MBA student--if not quite visionary, just fine.