Not with sirens. Not with a countdown. It arrived the way weather arrives — one morning the air was different, and everyone went to work anyway.
For most of history, the distance between having an idea and holding the thing was measured in weeks. Skill was a toll booth. You paid it in years, or you paid someone who already had.
That distance has collapsed. Not to zero. But to an afternoon.
None of this tells you what is worth making.
A machine will render anything you ask for, faithfully, including the wrong thing. It has no stake in the outcome. Judgement did not get cheaper — it got scarcer, and therefore louder.
Making used to be expensive and deciding was free. It is now the other way around.
Which leaves the one question nothing can answer for you: of everything I could now make, what should exist?
Make the thing. Look at it. Most of what you learn about an idea, you learn from the version of it you can hold in your hand.
The cost of being wrong has never been lower.
That is the whole gift.