‘Will AI take my job?’ A trip to a Beijing fortune-telling bar to see what lies ahead | China


In at the age of self-assistance, self-abundance and obsence of self, there have never been more places to go to advice. Where the anxious and uncertain could have once viewed a search engine to get answers, we can now engage in an apparently significant discussion on our problems with Chatgpt. Or, if you are in China, Deepseek.

For some, however, he has the impression that our ancestors knew more about life than us. Or at least, they knew how to look for them. And it is therefore that dozens of young Chinese people turn to ancient forms of divination to discover what the future has in store for us. Over the past two years, bars of fortune have appeared in Chinese cities, offering drinks and snacks alongside xuanxue,, or spiritualism. The trend is logical: the Chinese economy is in difficulty, and although consumers save their money, going out for a drink is cheaper than other forms of retail therapy or a real therapist. With a deeply rooted culture of mysticism which mixes Taoist, Buddhist and Folk practices, who have defined decades of government who try to establish superstitious beliefs, for many Chinese, turning to the invisible is perfectly logical.

Say sticks Qiuqianin a bar in Beijing. Photography: Amy Hawkins / The Guardian

This week, I decided to join them.

My xuanxue The lair of choice is that a newly open bar in the rich district of Chaoyang de Beijing. One Thursday evening, the bar, adorned with yellow Taoist talismans and draped translucent curtains, is calm. All the best to support the attention of the dissent of good adventure with questions from my deep wells of narcissism. But Wan Mo, either because of his spiritual intuition, or because I am not the first self-involved millennium to seek his services, I see myself arriving at a mile. It is strictly a question by drink purchased.

Wan Mo, a 36 year old elegant dressed in a cowardly white tang style jacket attached to traditional Chinese nodes, specializes in Qiuqian,, or Chinese lottery sticks. The practice consists in shaking a cylindrical wood container full of wooden sticks, while focusing on a question in your mind. Finally, one of the sticks, engraved with text and numbers, falls and a makeshift disepering can interpret the answer. Qiuqian Going up to the Jin (AD266 to AD420) dynasty and has survived centuries of war, upheavals, a cultural revolution and the rise of artificial intelligence to remain a faithful Taoist temples, and now, pekin cocktail bars.

So I hope Qiuqian Will be well placed to answer my first question: will AI take my work?

“Use both hands,” said Wan Mo. She is a scholar without frills. “Focus on your question.” She tells me that as a foreigner, my connection with the sticks may not be as deep as that of a Chinese. So I need to “think carefully”.

After a few seconds of concentrated but vigorous tremors, not one but two sticks fall on the table between us.

Wan Mo is studying first. “This stick means that later, the AI ​​will have an impact on your work … Even if you are very talented, you cannot compete with its scale. For example, if you write an article, it can write 10. It will certainly affect you.”

Qie le, a newly open bar in the rich district of Chaoyang de Beijing. Photography: Amy Hawkins / The Guardian

It was not the spiritual balm that I hoped. Wan Mo tells me that the second stick even provides a calendar for my professional redundancy. “He says that in one to three years, there will be no major impact. But after three years, AI will become force majeure. ”

Wan Mo’s predictions do not give me hope for my next question. But in the spirit of Xuanxue, I decide to try my luck again and order another tour. We take a brief break for Wan Mo to take a break at the cigarette and make up for a friend who wandered in the bar. His shredder behavior makes me think that he has not yet discovered that AI will take his job – or he has just made his peace with it.

Finally, I bring together enough liquid courage to ask my second question. Wan Mo’s severe behavior sends a slight thrill in my hands while I grab Qiuqian Box for the second time. Shake, shake, shake. Think, think, think. A single wooden stick falls from the container.

“Will I get a salary increase?” I ask, temporarily. The answer arrives quickly.

“There is not much possibility at the moment. Although [the stick] is a question of transition … This shows that there is no major change … There is a certain hope, but it is not immediate. You must make personal adjustments.

I ask what type of personal adjustment I could do, hoping that it will not have me order another drink to find out.

The fortune table in Qie le in Beijing. Photography: Amy Hawkins / The Guardian

“If you want a salary increase, xuanxue Can only offer support, “she starts.” For example, the bracelet I wear is to attract wealth. It is made from natural materials … We recommend that you wear something like that. It can help bring a financial chance and can have a positive effect. But the most important thing is always to communicate with the superiors. »»

I do not know if it means my spiritual or editorial superiors. But with that, my time has passed. Wan Mo’s friend says everyone comes to Qie with the same types of questions: how to get rich, stay healthy, find love. I have the impression that everything I discovered is how weak my chances are on the first question, and it is too late to ask for the second and third. I escape home to sleep before my departure early the next day. I bet that AI does not have to worry about feeling tired.

Additional research by Lillian Yang

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