A few years ago, I heard Mark Cuban on Tim Ferriss’ podcast say that if he were advising kids on what field to go into, it would be voice engineering. At the time, I didn’t buy it. Voice tech felt clunky. Siri misunderstood me more often than not, and shouting commands into the void never felt like the future.

But then something shifted.

Holding my newborn baby at 10pm — hands full, mind racing, and typing just isn’t an option. I opened ChatGPT and just talked. Thoughts poured out like I was speaking to a friend. And it worked. It didn’t just transcribe — it understood. It was fast, fluid, and surprisingly nuanced. Suddenly, Mark’s prediction didn’t seem so far-fetched.

My phone immediately feels less tool, more companion.

Typing, for all its precision, now feels sluggish. Voice, on the other hand, is catching up to how we think — spontaneous, layered, imperfect. Tools like ChatGPT and Plaud are collapsing the space between thought and expression. They’re not perfect, but in the chaos of real life — especially when caring for a newborn — they feel like a breakthrough.

And it made me wonder: if voice is finally arriving, what’s next?

Maybe it’s thought.

Not as metaphor, but as interface — actual brain-to-device connection. Neuralink are proving silent, seamless interaction. It still sounds like science fiction, but it’s closer than we think. And when voice starts to feel like friction, the next step is to eliminate even that.

I keep reflecting on these moments at night. One arm around my child, the other speaking into the future. Not typing. Not clicking. Just talking. And realising: this isn’t just a new interface — it’s a shift in how we think, capture, and create.

Maybe Mark was right after all.

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