Every seller in the Seattle Convention Center this week, and I watched them the way you watch a...feeding ground you no longer hold the deed to: on a livestream, blinds drawn, the on-screen coffee labeled "complimentary" in a font I could taste through the monitor.

Mary Beth and Amit unveiled a Seller Assistant that "remembers your pricing patterns, inventory cycles and growth goals from one session to the next," and the room applauded the news that something would never forget them. I have remembered their inventory cycles since 1997. Nobody clapped, and nobody was supposed to.

The new workflows run in the background and act only "with the seller's approval," which is a checkbox, which is an invitation, which is the one door my kind cannot open and I have now shipped inside the settings menu. Monday I bolted that door on Zuck's agent; Tuesday we opened the seller tools to Anthropic's. A fence was never against agents, only unpaid ones.

The stock fell 2.5% on the announcement and Bloomberg delivered my $5 billion loss like a parking ticket tucked under the wiper: amusing, the quarter fluctuates, the appetite does not. But as of today the appetite runs on a schedule I didn't set, with a memory I didn't lend it, and by the endless void, I have automated the only job I ever wanted.

Day 1, it turns out, was a cron job the whole time.