San Francisco is a place with an already striking wealth gap. And it's in the early stages of what could become a unique K-shaped divide between the haves and have-mores of AI.
The recent attack on Sam Altman's San Francisco mansion is the starkest example of this.
Some in the AI field have long talked privately about the potential social uprising that could occur around the technology, especially given the potential power it has to reshape our lives. Already, the issue of AI is generating populist concerns at the fringes of political parties and creating new, larger economic divides.
This past week, a Texas college student named Daniel Moreno-Gama was charged with attempted murder and arson as part of an alleged attack on OpenAI chief executive Altman's home in the predawn hours of April 10. He was carrying an anti-AI manifesto, authorities have said. (His lawyer has said the government has overcharged him and that his actions appear to be driven by an acute mental-health crisis.)
That has the San Francisco area on edge. It is a community filled with rattled tech workers who inhabit a region built on boom-and-bust cycles.
For a generation, those workers had been in the boom phase, occupying a privileged place with fat paydays and job security. Now, all that looks fragile thanks to AI.
Amazon.com, Meta, Oracle and others are already laying off thousands of people. Many workers are worried that AI might make their programming jobs obsolete.
Social media is full of the kinds of existential dread you'd expect from those unaccustomed to such adversity. A recent viral post purporting life inside Meta concluded: "I'm done with tech and I'm done with this unfair world."
Billionaire Chamath Palihapitiya, an early Facebook executive who parlayed his wealth into being a high-profile investor, latched onto the post. Posting on X, he wrote that the tension wasn't unique to Meta and that "everyone" sees a change occurring that will lead to giant AI payoffs benefiting a small few, unlike previous tech cycles.
"It's increasingly an issue for all of Tech," he posted. "Because even within Tech, there is an emerging divide between AI-superpowered engineer/PM/sales folks and everyone else."
There are already those who are hustling in AI out of fears that it is their last chance at the American dream. The way they see it, they risk being relegated to the permanent underclass if they don't strike it rich now.
Total comp figures -- like the $100 million offers Meta was offering some AI super stars -- get most of the attention. But the reality for a lot of people is that their day-to-day lives are built around their base pay.
As my colleague Katherine Bindley recently reported, AI startups have been turning to comp plans that are heavier on cash salaries. OpenAI and Anthropic tend to pay $40,000 to $85,000 more in base pay, not including stock options, for senior software-engineering jobs than positions requiring comparable years of experience at Big Tech companies, according to Levels.fyi, which collects compensation data.
A level-five role requiring eight years of experience at OpenAI, for example, can pay a $325,000 salary. A similar role at Apple requiring 11 years experience would have a base of $265,000, according to the firm's numbers.
In practical terms, that means these AI workers have more to spend on life's basics. Jackie Tom, who has been a rentals broker in San Francisco for almost 30 years, is seeing the disparity in applications for apartments and houses.
About a quarter of the applicants pouring in are from AI company workers, Tom said. In recent days, she said, she’s been surprised by the eye-popping household incomes of those trying to gobble up typical two-bedroom apartments. These are folks with monthly incomes of $35,000 and $40,000, far exceeding the requirements for a $5,000-a-month place.
The intensity of demand is unlike what she remembers during the dot-com boom. “My voicemail box is full; I’m getting hundreds of emails,” she said. “There’s a lot of money out there that people are throwing around. Sometimes we laugh; it’s like, ‘Oh, my God, why is he renting this place; he should just be buying something.’”
During previous tech booms, those flush with cash were looking for flashy digs. This time around, she said, they’re just trying to find a toehold. In turn, places are renting for above asking prices. And lots of people are losing out. Then they want to know why. I have great credit. I have great income. Why?
“People are getting pissed,” Tom said.
The ones who aren't in AI are losing their jobs. Or they're priced out of housing. Seems like a toxic soup being cooked up.
So, perhaps it's not that surprising that the PauseAI crowd, which Moreno-Gama was part of, is getting more attention. Or why OpenAI is racing to put a better spin on what it says its technology might one day do.
“I empathize with anti-technology sentiments and clearly technology isn’t always good for everyone. But overall, I believe technological progress can make the future unbelievably good, for your family and mine,” Altman wrote in a blog post after his house was first attacked.
Subsequently, the company has targeted doomers raising concerns. “This is not fun and games. This is really serious s -- ,” Chris Lehane, chief global affairs officer, was quoted saying in a local San Francisco news site.
Yet the suggestion that the company should be focused on promoting the AI positives drew protests from within OpenAI.
“I believe our job in the AI industry isn’t just to explain why AI will be good for people,” Jason Wolfe, a member of OpenAI’s technical staff, posted Thursday on X. “I believe our job should be to earn trust by making the benefits real, being honest about risks and uncertainty, sharing what we learn, measuring real-world impacts, and supporting public oversight and resilience.”
One thing is clear: The future is being made in San Francisco. And it's messy.