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I wasn’t ready to stop programming

How pain, dictation and AI changed what it means for me to be a programmer.

Olof holding an open laptop close to his face while dictating in a café.
Whispering to my laptop in a café. Apparently this looks strange.

In 2019, I finally graduated after years of difficult study. I started working as an AI engineer and loved it. I spent my days writing code at work, then kept going with my own projects at home. AI was moving fast, and I was right in the middle of it. It was exhilarating.

But all that time at the keyboard was taking a toll. Typing began to hurt, and eventually the pain made it difficult to keep programming. I was developing a repetitive strain injury, or RSI. My career had barely started, and already it felt as though it might be over.

Of course, I could move into management or find something else in tech that interested me. But I wanted to be a programmer, and the thought of having to give that up was devastating. Had all the time and effort I’d put into learning to code been for nothing?

I tried to get the pain under control, but nothing helped. What I needed was to spend less time at the keyboard. So I turned to dictation, but kept coming back to the keyboard to correct what the software had misheard. Even my workaround involved typing.

Then I tried combining dictation with ChatGPT. Eureka! ChatGPT spoke “human” and could often work out what I meant, even when the transcription was wrong. I could ramble into a microphone about what I wanted to build, and it would write the code.

I had found a way to keep programming.

Things improved quickly from there. With coding agents, I could describe a change and the agent would edit the code directly in my project files. I no longer had to copy code back and forth between ChatGPT and my editor. That was a huge convenience, even if the code they produced still needed work. I had to review it, but I could dictate the corrections. At least I didn’t have to type all that code myself.

Running the software was another matter. I still had to type commands into the terminal myself, and the pain in my arm kept reminding me that there must be a better way. I built Terminal Manager so the agents and I could see what was running, reuse the same servers and check error messages. With that in place, I could leave all the terminal work to the agents too.

Spending less time at the keyboard has helped ease the pain, along with physiotherapy and exercises for my upper back and shoulders. It’s much better now.

What started as a way to spare my arm quickly became the way I preferred to work. Today, I still spend my days building software, but I no longer write any code. I dictate what I want to build, try what the agents produce and tell them what needs to change. I loved writing code, but I’m happier than ever now that I can turn my ideas into reality without having to write the code myself.

I spent years learning to be a programmer, and I still think of myself as one. I’m just less sure what that means now.

When I hear other programmers worry about AI taking over their work, I recognize the fear of losing a career they were counting on. I used to spend my days developing AI. Now it helps me keep working, even as it takes over most of the work I used to do myself.

It feels surreal how fast my work has changed, and I’m a little scared of what the next generation of AI will bring. Strangely, the excitement I feel about what’s to come keeps pushing that fear into the background.

I wanted a way to keep programming. I hadn’t expected it to look like this.