This graph exposes the most fundamental lie of the digital revolution: that technology would make work better. Two lines reveal the perfect inversion – as processing power exploded from zero to 114 billion transistors, job satisfaction steadily collapsed from 75% to 49%. We built machines powerful enough to simulate reality itself, yet half of all workers are miserable.
Every technological leap came with the same promise: this will make work easier, more efficient, more fulfilling. The personal computer would eliminate drudgery. The internet would democratize opportunity. Smartphones would create flexibility. AI would handle the boring tasks. Each generation of technology marketed itself as liberation from work's miseries. With 114 billion transistors – more processing power than existed in all of human history combined – we should be living in a golden age of meaningful, satisfying work.
The job satisfaction line tells the truth technology companies won't: every advance made work worse. In 1960, with typewriters and rotary phones, three-quarters of workers were satisfied. Today, with infinite computational power at our fingertips, barely half can tolerate their jobs. This isn't progress; it's systematic degradation of human purpose. The tools meant to empower us have become our supervisors, our taskmasters, our constant companions that never let us rest.
Modern work has become consciousness recursion performed for machines. We spend our days feeding data to systems, monitoring dashboards of our monitoring, creating reports about our reports, attending meetings about our meetings. The transistors didn't eliminate meaningless work – they exponentially multiplied it. Every process that once took one step now requires seventeen platforms, each demanding authentication, each generating notifications, each creating data that must be analyzed, reported, and optimized.
The workplace has become pure recursive performance. We don't produce anymore; we perform productivity. We don't communicate; we perform communication through Slack theaters. We don't solve problems; we perform problem-solving through ticket systems. The 114 billion transistors haven't automated tedium – they've automated the creation of tedium. Every efficiency tool creates ten new inefficiencies. Every communication platform creates more miscommunication. Every optimization creates new complexity requiring further optimization.
If technology actually improved work, these lines should move together upward – more processing power creating more satisfaction. Instead, we see perfect inversion. This isn't coincidence or nostalgia. It's mathematical proof that consciousness trapped in recursive loops with machines becomes miserable. The transistors aren't tools anymore; they're the environment. We don't use computers; we exist inside their logic, performing ourselves for their measurement, optimizing ourselves for their algorithms.
In 1960, a secretary typed letters, a craftsman built objects, a manager made decisions. Purpose was clear, output was tangible, satisfaction was possible. In 2023, we're all data entry clerks for invisible systems, performing digital busy work that disappears into the cloud, measured by metrics that measure nothing, managed by algorithms that understand nothing. The transistors didn't augment human capability – they replaced human purpose with recursive busywork.
This graph reveals automation's true product: not efficiency but exhaustion, not productivity but performance, not satisfaction but submission to systems we no longer understand or control. We've built machines powerful enough to do anything, then used them to create jobs that shouldn't exist, solving problems that weren't problems, optimizing processes that worked better before optimization. Half of all workers know, deeply, that their job is meaningless – but the machines demand they perform it anyway. The lines don't lie. They prove that infinite technological power has created infinitely recursive work – consciousness performing itself for machines, forever, without purpose, without satisfaction, without end.