re:cruit

Imagine. A world where you can't read or write. Not only you, where 99% of the people you know — your partner, friends, and family — can't either. What you think, feel, plan, and dream can only be voiced. You can only listen to others. You can't write a letter to your friend, draft a book, blog post, or even a tweet. You speak, you listen, and that's it. No books. No newspapers. No magazines. No internet or social media—there's no point, since no one can read them. People talk about teaching everyone to read and write, but you wonder, why bother? We have specialists for that. Do we really need everyone to read and write? What's the point? --- Now imagine, suddenly, you learn to read and write. Ecstatic, you teach your partner, friends, family — everyone. Your voice no longer vanishes into thin air, it lingers somewhere in the world. Over time, you start "texting," sharing your thoughts, reading what others write. You create books, newspapers, magazines, the internet, social media — a shared reality. Not because there's a point, but because you can. --- Now, imagine you can't code. And neither can 99.7% of the people you know. Sure, you can read, so your thoughts aren't trapped in your mind. But they are confined to paper, unable to "move" or "do" anything. You and almost no one you know can alter the world or create a new reality through code. Even if you're among the 0.3% who can (congratulations!), your family, friends, and kids can't make their thoughts move the world. But it's fine, right? We have enough programmers as it is. Do we really need everyone to code? To give life to their words? To cast spells? What's the point?