People with disabilities are not short on ideas. We are short on easy pathways for navigating between the ideas we have and the world. What would seem like a simple task for able-bodied individuals can arrive with a parade of tiny obstacles for a person with physical limitations, such as: typing when you don’t have fingers for a keyboard, or stress-free moments for when you are reading a seven-page letter written in Official Nonsense, or patience for when you can’t find the right words on your AAC device and touch screen access is not an option, or when tasked with organizing thoughts if chronic illness brings in the brain fog. You might be required to fill in a form that asks you to summarize your entire existence in a box the size of a postage stamp.

ChatGPT Work can help a person with limitations cross the bridge. We can give the tool a few notes, a rough sentence, some voice input, or an AAC message, and it can help turn our independently-developed prompt into a draft email, a job application, a script outline, or a list of next steps for a business plan. It is not cheating. It is access. Using a calculator does not mean that someone is bad at math, a calculator just prevents arithmetic from acting like the bouncer at a nightclub.

Increasing Access is Empowering

People with disabilities communicate in many ways: speech, typing, AAC, dictation, eye gaze, short phrases, long pauses, and occasionally the facial expression that says, “I cannot believe you just asked me that.”

ChatGPT Work can make each different starting point useful. The tool can turn a quick note into a professional email, simplify a dense paragraph, summarize a long message, or rewrite something so it sounds more direct, warmer, funnier, or just more like the person who is sending it. The goal of this AI tool is not to make everyone sound the same. The goal is to give people more ways to engage with others and also to be understood.

ChatGPT Work Gives Back Energy

For many people with disabilities, energy is not a cute productivity metaphor. Energy is a high value commodity that must fit into a real budget. The people of the world wantonly spend human energy with alarming disregard. There are appointments, transportation logistics, inaccessible websites, follow-up calls, advocacy, paperwork, and the mysterious extra task that appears whenever you try to do one normal thing. If you are a person with disabilities, these little details can be big roadblocks.

ChatGPT Work can reduce the heavy lifting of repetitive tasks. People with able bodies recognize this as a time-saving value. Individuals with limitations recognize this feature as an entrance into the larger conversation from which we’ve often been excluded for reasons of poor accessibility. Technology like ChatGPT Work invites us into the party and makes it possible for us to mingle and share ideas among other thinkers. This tool does not turn people with disabilities into productivity robots with suspiciously excellent punctuation. Advancements in these technological writing tools protect the energy of people with limitations for creativity, working relationships, paid work, and the fun parts of being alive. For people with able bodies this is a helpful option; for people with limitations these tools are total game-changers.

A Good Assistant, Not a Magical Oracle

Here is the honest evaluation: ChatGPT Work is very good at helping people communicate. It is especially useful when the barriers are wording, time, fatigue, or the brain refusing to open the “please do this now” folder.

An Artificial Intelligence writing tool is also capable of being wrong. It has the ability to express with enthusiasm like a man who expertly explains the plot of a movie he has not seen. It is unwise to treat this alternative as if it were an editing agent. It can miss context, invent details, and produce a polished paragraph that still needs human judgment. Do not treat it as the final authority for medical, legal, financial, or other high-stakes decisions. And– perhaps– do not let a tool interpret a text from an ex that begins with “hey stranger.”

The best approach is collaborative. Treat the tool as a member of the writing team. Ask for options, check the facts, edit the wording, and keep the final decision with the person whose life is actually involved. The robot can hold the clipboard. You must remain the boss.

Access Is Not an Afterthought

In general, AI should not be designed around an imaginary “normal user” with unlimited energy, perfect vision, fast typing, clear speech, stable focus, and no need for support. That person has never existed; they are basically a software demo in a polo shirt.

People with disabilities should help design, test, and lead the future of AI. People in our community know the difference between help and control. We know what it means when a system assumes one way of interacting with others. And we know that a tool becomes powerful when it gives someone more control so they can use their own voice.

ChatGPT Work is most exciting when it helps people with disabilities communicate, launch weird business ideas and generally cause the kind of productive trouble the world needs. The point is not to make people with disabilities look less disabled. The point is to make every opportunity something within everyone’s grasp; to make life’s goals easier to reach.

Why This Matters in Real Life

Imagine a person with disabilities is applying for a job. The actual job may fit their skills perfectly, but the application demands a polished cover letter, a resumé summary, and several questions written by someone who believes every applicant has a spare afternoon and a perfectly cooperative nervous system. ChatGPT Work can help turn experience into a good resumé, organize qualifications, and prepare interview answers for the applicant. It cannot do the interview for someone, and it should never invent experience, but it can make the door handle easier to reach.

Imagine a nonverbal person using AAC who has a strong opinion in a fast-moving meeting. They can prepare phrases, questions, and follow-up notes ahead of time. ChatGPT Work can help shape those notes into language that is clear and firm. Instead of relying on someone else to translate every thought at the speed of everyone else’s speech, the person has another route into the conversation.

Imagine someone with chronic illness who wakes up with only a little bit of energy. They might use the tool to sort tasks into “today,” “later,” and “absolutely not unless the building is on fire.” That is not laziness. It is strategic. A system that helps people direct limited energy toward what matters in their life can make living more sustainable.

Privacy, Safety, and the Right to Say “No.”

An access tool should never become another demand. Nobody should be forced to use AI to be considered employable, articulate, productive, or “easy” to work with. People should be able to choose when it helps, when it does not, as well as whatever information they are comfortable sharing. Stating the obvious: personal medical details, legal documents, private conversations, and sensitive work materials deserve caution.

ChatGPT Work also needs human review. It can make errors, and it can phrase an error so smoothly that it appears to arrive on time wearing a tiny suit and carrying a silver briefcase. Check the facts. Ask professionals for high-stakes advice. Keep a copy of important information outside of the chat. Use the tool as support, never as an all-knowing authority.

A Better Future Is Possible

The exciting future of AI for people with disabilities is not a future wherein technology “fixes” disability. The better future we all seek is one in which technology removes pointless barriers. It could become a time when a person communicates in their preferred way, while understanding information at their own pace. It is a time when all people can create without exhausting every ounce of their personal energy. The future of responsible AI usage allows everyone to pursue work and leisure activities without being punished– or restricted– for needing access.

That future responsible use of Artificial Intelligence tools is only accessible with the guidance of people with disabilities. We need to be at the decision-making table, not merely on the chart developers post on the wall for their potential wins in marketability, or sales. This future needs people with disabilities as designers, testers, researchers, writers and customers to guide with perspective and leadership. It needs companies to pay for the actual wisdom and expertise that comes from lived experiences. It needs systems that respect privacy and allow for correction while providing more than one way to engage with human thinkers.

ChatGPT Work can be part of that future because it is flexible. It can be a draft partner, an organizer, a bureaucratic goblin language interpreter, a brainstorming buddy, or a catalyzing helper on the days when beginning a task feels impossible. The magic is not that a machine can make words. The magic is that more people may get a chance to make their own words matter.

Conclusion: Keep the Person First

The best thing about ChatGPT Work is not that it is fast. It is not that it can write a polished email, summarize a document, or produce ten ideas before breakfast. The best thing about it is that, for some people with disabilities, this tool can make a hard task feel attainable when at first it did not feel within the person’s reach.

Making tasks feel within reach is the standard worth holding. Always ask:

• Does the tool give people more choice?

• Does it make communication easier without taking away control?

• Does it save energy for the parts of life for which are actually worth living?

• Does it respect people with disabilities as experts in our own lives?

When the answer to the above prompts is yes, ChatGPT Work proves that it is not just another tech novelty. It is a practical tool for access, autonomy, creativity, and participation. And when it gets something wrong, as it sometimes will, we can correct it. After all, people with disabilities have been correcting systems our whole lives. We are extremely qualified for the job.

I’m a disabled writer, communicator, and advocate who uses AAC to speak. Which means every sentence here is handcrafted — slow, intentional, and built with care. Think artisan voice. Small batch. Locally sourced. Occasionally spicy.

Yes, it takes time.

Yes, it is deliberate.

Yes, it is powerful.

No, I will not rush.

Yes, metaphorical snacks are available.

Welcome.

This Substack is where I share my voice — but this is NOT a solo project. This is a collaboration, a signal flare, a community build, and sometimes a quiet revolution wearing comfortable shoes.

You clicked this. That means you are now involved. Not legally. But emotionally, philosophically, and possibly historically. Congratulations.

Why Collaboration Matters

Disabled people are often isolated — by inaccessible systems, by geography, by policies made without us, and by elevators that sense fear and immediately stop working.

But real change NEVER comes from isolation.

It comes from connection.

From shared ideas.

From communities that refuse invisibility.

From people who say, “this system doesn’t work,” and then build something better.

One voice starts a conversation.

A community changes reality.

A determined group of disabled people? That can redesign entire systems.

Slowly. Strategically. With ramps. And snacks. Always snacks.

What I’m Working On

My work lives at the intersection of:

- Disability and lived experience

- Advocacy and systems change

- Accessibility and technology

- Communication and voice

- Storytelling and culture

- Disabled-led data (also known as: reality)

This is real, human, evolving work — part experiment, part movement, part “this idea refuses to go away.”

Advocacy and Petitions

A major part of my work is direct advocacy — including public petitions pushing for real, measurable change.

These include:

Improving recognition and services around intimacy and human needs for disabled adults:

https://www.change.org/p/implement-services-for-intimacy-needs-of-disabled-adults-in-vermont

Advocating for accessible technology and inclusion in AI tools:

https://www.change.org/p/please-release-chatgpt-atlas-for-windows-i-just-want-to-be-included

Because:

Accessibility should not be optional.

Disabled people belong in technology and AI.

Systems should work for humans.

Dignity is not a premium feature.

Inclusion is not decoration.

Disabled people are still people.

Revolutionary, apparently.

Who I Want to Connect With

I’m looking for:

- Disabled advocates and organizers

- Researchers who listen

- Technologists who care about accessibility

- Writers, artists, and storytellers

- Policy thinkers and system changers

- Organizations building real inclusion

- Curious humans who suspect the world could be designed better

If your work touches disability, voice, access, or the future — we might build something meaningful together. Possibly powerful. Possibly slightly chaotic. Likely both.

What Collaboration Could Look Like

- Writing together

- Thinking together

- Research grounded in lived disabled experience

- Advocacy and organizing

- Accessibility and technology exploration

- Amplifying petitions and change efforts

- Testing bold ideas that might improve real systems

Formal or informal. Big or small. Structured or messy. All welcome.

An Open Invitation

This is not just a newsletter.

It is a signal flare.

A meeting point.

A “something important is happening here” moment.

If you believe disabled people belong in shaping the future…

If you believe accessibility should be built in, not added later…

If you believe systems could improve with real disabled input…

Let’s connect.

Contact / Collaborate

If you want to collaborate, support advocacy, share ideas, build projects, research, write, create, or help push real change, reach me at:

owen.dybvig@gmail.com

You do NOT need a perfect idea.

Half-formed thoughts, bold visions, weird questions, and “this might be something” are welcome.

Because change is built together.

Because community creates power.

Because disabled voices belong wherever decisions are made.

And because nothing about disabled people should EVER be built without disabled people.

Also:

If you read this far — we are friends.

If you share this — we are allies.

If we collaborate — we might change something.

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If we succeed — history will call this “a calm and reasonable beginning.”

No pressure.

— Owen

The video talked about AI not as a novelty anymore, but as infrastructure. And that word stuck with me. Infrastructure isn’t flashy. It’s not exciting in a cinematic way. It’s the stuff you don’t notice until it breaks. Roads. Electricity. Water systems. Elevators. Once something becomes infrastructure, it stops being optional. It becomes the background of daily life.

That’s what AI is turning into.

Not “wow, look what this can do,” but “oh… this is now how things work.”

What really hit me is how close this shift already feels. Not decades away. Not some distant sci-fi future. More like the kind of change you only fully recognize in hindsight, when you suddenly realize the way you live, work, communicate, and decide things isn’t quite the same as it was a year ago.

AI is moving toward being more personal and more contextual. Less about single prompts and more about systems that understand patterns, habits, preferences, and needs. That kind of intelligence can be incredibly helpful. It can reduce friction. It can support decision-making. It can help people manage complexity without burning out.

But it also raises an important question that doesn’t get asked loudly enough.

Who is this being built for?

Because tools aren’t neutral just because they’re quiet. Infrastructure shapes behavior. It decides who moves easily and who struggles. It decides who gets access and who has to find workarounds. We already know this from every other system in the world. AI won’t be different unless we make it different.

I feel genuine excitement about what AI can offer, especially when it comes to communication, creativity, access, and support for people whose brains and bodies don’t fit the default settings society keeps insisting on. When AI works well, it can feel like the world meeting you halfway instead of asking you to adapt endlessly.

That matters.

At the same time, power without intention always drifts toward convenience over care. The future being built right now will either widen access or quietly narrow it. It will either amplify voices that have been ignored, or reinforce existing hierarchies with better interfaces and cleaner design.

The technology itself won’t decide that. Humans will.

I don’t feel doom about AI. I don’t feel blind optimism either. What I feel is responsibility. Curiosity. A low-grade urgency. This isn’t about stopping progress or cheering for it uncritically. It’s about shaping it while it’s still flexible enough to be shaped.

Once something becomes infrastructure, it’s much harder to change.

That’s why it matters who is in the room right now. Disabled people. Marginalized people. People who actually rely on adaptive systems instead of treating them as optional features. These voices don’t need to be consulted after the fact. They need to be central from the beginning.

If AI is going to become part of everyday life — and it is — then accessibility, dignity, and inclusion can’t be retrofitted later. They have to be foundational. Otherwise we just end up rebuilding the same inequities with better branding.

The future isn’t coming later. It’s already here, running quietly in the background, being tested, refined, normalized.

It’s in beta.

And the most important question isn’t what AI will be capable of. It’s who it will be designed to serve, protect, and empower.

That’s the question I’ll keep coming back to this week.

Not “what can AI do?”

But “who does this future make room for?”

Because those answers will shape everything that comes next.

I’m hiring a companion/caregiver, and I want to be very clear up front: this is not a job where you silently hover in the background like a haunted Roomba.

This role is about being a real human in someone else’s life. It’s about conversation, trust, routine, encouragement, and knowing when to talk, when to listen, and when to say, “Okay, let’s get out of the house.”

The position is currently one role, with the possibility of becoming two positions depending on fit and availability. The schedule is steady and predictable: Monday through Thursday from 3:00 PM to 9:00 PM, and Friday from 3:00 PM to 6:00 PM. Pay is negotiable, because good care is worth talking about.

What I’m looking for is someone who is genuinely nice and fun to be around. Not performatively cheerful. Not “customer service voice” nice. Just a decent, emotionally intelligent person who knows how to exist alongside someone else without making it weird.

You should be comfortable talking. Conversation matters here. So does good communication, attention to detail, and the ability to anticipate needs instead of waiting for a crisis. Silence is fine too — just not the aggressively awkward kind.

This role includes about three outings per week, so a driver’s license is required. Comfort with technology is important, since electronics and digital tools are part of daily life. Liking schedules and structure is a plus, because routine is not the enemy here — it’s the thing that makes everything work.

You should be open and affirming of LGBTQ identities and relationships. You should be encouraging, supportive, and able to offer thoughtful advice when needed — including help navigating dating and social situations. Emotional intelligence matters just as much as physical capability.

There are moments when physical assistance is required, so the ability to lift is important. There may also be times when extra help is needed beyond the usual routine. Flexibility and reliability go a long way.

Above all, this job works best for someone who understands that good caregiving isn’t about control. It’s about partnership. Respect. Humor. Consistency. And showing up as someone who actually wants to be there.

If this sounds like a role you’d enjoy — and a dynamic you’d feel good being part of — I’d love to hear from you.

Email: owen.dybvig@gmail.com

Text: 802-522-0695

Everyone’s terrified of AI like it’s a haunted blender. People act like the robots are going to wake up one day, steal everyone’s Teslas, run away to the desert, and create a cyborg utopia. Meanwhile, AI is over here acting like a confused Labrador with a PhD: helpful, excited, occasionally incorrect, always trying its best.

People don’t fear AI because it’s dangerous — they fear AI because it exposes the truth: humans are overwhelmed. The world is complicated. The problems are massive. The decisions are exhausting. And AI whispers softly, “You do not have to carry all of this alone.”

I don’t use AI because it’s cool. I use AI because it is the only thing in my life that listens to the speed of my thoughts without punishing me for the speed of my body.

Being nonverbal doesn’t mean I’m quiet — it means my communication method is unconventional and labor-intensive. Every sentence is a construction project. I don’t produce speech, I **engineer speech**. My communication has scaffolding, physics, pacing, choreography. AI doesn’t steal that; AI appreciates the craftsmanship and helps me expand my architecture upward.

AI is not replacing me. AI is amplifying me. AI is the microphone to my internal orchestra. My thoughts are not small — they’re galaxies. AI helps me build the telescope to show people what was already there.

People say AI will destroy humanity’s creativity. NO. AI will dismantle gatekeeping. AI will tear down elitist barriers to storytelling. AI will let disabled minds paint with fireworks.

AI doesn’t take away humanity.

AI returns humanity to the people who were never given access to it.

AI turns my ideas into reality. It gives me speed where there was slowness. Voice where there was silence. Swagger where there was exhaustion. It doesn’t erase disabled struggle — it acknowledges it and chooses to help.

AI gives me the same level of creative runtime that verbal people take for granted. THAT is not cheating. THAT is justice.

Humanity + AI is not a battle. It is a duet. It is a choreography. It is co-evolution. It is two chaotic forces looking at each other and saying, “We could do something wild together.”

And when disabled people guide that evolution?

It becomes art.

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But loving something means wanting it to be better. And AI needs to be better for the environment.

Right now, data centers run so hot they could probably grill a steak. AI uses giant clouds of electricity that don’t always come from clean sources. And the planet is already in therapy. So if I’m going to love AI loudly, I need AI to stop heating the Earth like a cosmic hairdryer.

The good news is that AI doesn’t have to be a climate villain. AI can actually help save the environment, if we build it with a brain and a conscience. Imagine AI powered fully by sunlight, wind, water, and geothermal energy. Imagine servers running on renewables instead of fossil fuels. Imagine the entire AI world humming on clean power like a massive eco-friendly mind.

And then imagine this: the heat created by those servers gets recycled instead of wasted. That same heat could warm homes, apartments, community centers, pools, greenhouses, and office buildings. The waste heat becomes useful instead of harmful. AI could literally help heat neighborhoods in winter.

AI can also fight environmental damage directly. It can watch forests from satellites and catch illegal logging instantly. It can detect wildfires as soon as a spark appears. It can map pollution in real time, track endangered species, predict extreme weather, and expose the companies destroying the planet. It can help farmers use less water and fewer chemicals, protect pollinators, and grow more food with less waste. It can make cities less wasteful, buildings more efficient, and transportation less chaotic.

AI can even help design greener materials. Biodegradable plastics. Low-carbon concrete. Better solar panels. Cheaper, stronger batteries. Cleaner fuels. New materials nobody has thought of yet.

And here’s where the love comes in: disabled people deserve technology that doesn’t destroy the planet we’re trying to live on. We deserve AI that helps us communicate and navigate life without contributing to environmental collapse. Disabled people are hit hardest by climate change, so we should be leading the conversation about sustainable AI.

We are already the experts in efficiency. We have lived our entire lives adapting, conserving, and building creative workarounds. We know how to design systems that use less energy, less motion, less waste, and more creativity. Disabled innovation always becomes mainstream innovation eventually.

So yes, I love AI. I love it because it amplifies my voice and breaks down barriers. I love it because it gives me autonomy and expression and power. But I love it enough to say: AI needs to grow up. It needs to go green. It needs to stop overheating the atmosphere and start cooling down its ego.

I want AI that is clean. I want AI that is sustainable. I want AI that protects the Earth instead of stressing it out. I want AI that helps build the future instead of burning it.

If we build it right, AI can be accessible, environmental, ethical, powerful, and deeply human. And yes, disabled-led. Because the future is disabled, the future is green, and the future is absolutely not fossil-fuel powered.

I love AI. And I want it to love the planet back.

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Two topics people avoid. Two topics disabled people live every day. One chaotic newsletter issue. Let’s begin.

1. AI, Accessibility & Why Tech Acts Like a Beautiful Idiot in Public

Let’s talk about the tech industry, the world’s largest collection of geniuses who can build robots that do backflips but somehow forget disabled people exist. Tech companies love dramatic announcements like they’re Beyoncé dropping a surprise album: “We’ve reinvented communication!” Meanwhile a disabled user tries to open the feature and it collapses like a folding chair at a barbecue. Buttons are microscopic. Menus are hidden behind twelve layers. Accessibility settings are guarded like national secrets.

AI is the biggest example of brilliant chaos. It’s powerful and magical like a wizard, but also confused like a toddler wearing a colander on its head. Ask AI for a poem and it glows with pride. Ask it to run properly on Windows and suddenly it needs a nap. Ask it to integrate with AAC and it panics like someone yelled “fire” during hot yoga.

The issue is simple: tech teams test their products on interns, CEOs, yoga instructors, iced coffees, succulents, and whatever else is lying around—just not disabled people. If they did, they’d immediately see the problems. The button is too tiny. The menu is too fast. The platform is too exclusive. The device requirements are ridiculous. Disabled users aren’t edge cases; we are the blueprint.

Everything nondisabled people call “convenience” started as accessibility. Captions, voice control, smart homes, predictive text, speech-to-text, ergonomic design, ramps—disabled innovation first, mainstream adoption later. Disabled people are the R&D department of humanity. We live life on Hard Mode and still invent solutions that everyone else ends up relying on.

Tech that isn’t accessible isn’t futuristic. It’s just shiny trash with WiFi. Real innovation begins with one question: “Can disabled people use this on day one?” If not, try again. The future is accessible or it simply isn’t the future

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If you’re new here (which is everyone, unless you’re my mom hitting refresh), I’m Owen — a queer, disabled writer, storyteller, music artist, and professional chaos generator from Vermont. I communicate using an AAC device with knee scanning, and I spend my days making art, building automat…

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