A cure may arrive with a payment plan attached
A scenario written from a kitchen table: a one-off gene therapy financed over ten years, where the instalments continue only for as long as the child keeps meeting the outcome criteria written into the contract.
The approval letter would arrive with a schedule attached. Under an arrangement of the kind now being discussed between manufacturers and health funds, a one-time gene therapy — given once, intended to be permanent — would be paid for across a decade, in the way a family pays for a roof or a car. The treatment would take an afternoon. The financing would outlast primary school.
The clause that would reorganise the household sits on the third page. Payments would continue only while the child continued to meet defined outcome criteria at annual review. If the therapy stopped working, the instalments would stop too. A family would find this reassuring for roughly one day, which is how long it would take to notice that the sentence can be read from either end.
From that point the annual appointment would be two things at once. It would be a clinic visit, with the usual waiting and the usual corridor. It would also be a contractual milestone, at which a measurement — a distance walked, a value in a blood sample, a score on a scale designed for research rather than for parents — would determine both what happens next medically and what appears on a statement in six weeks.
“We would not be paying for a medicine,” a representative of a health fund would explain. “We would be paying for an outcome, in instalments, for as long as the outcome continues. This is how the world already buys aircraft engines. We consider it progress that health can now be bought the same way.”
The parent's difficulty would not be the money. It would be that a bad year becomes legible in two registers at once, and that the two do not agree about what a bad year means. A result that a clinician would call stable variation is, in the schedule, the difference between a payment and a review. Nobody would have intended this. It would simply be what happens when the same number appears on a chart and in a contract.
Hospitals would inherit the paperwork. Somebody would have to file the evidence, year after year, for a patient who is by then a teenager with better things to do than demonstrate an endpoint. A child's file would acquire a second column beside the clinical one, and the two would be maintained by people who do not attend the same meetings.
None of this is speculative on the price side. The therapies exist, the sums are real, and the contracts tying payment to outcomes are already being signed. The only hypothetical part is the kitchen table, where a family would sit down and work out, in a sentence nobody expected to hear this century, what the monthly cost of a cure comes to.
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Still laughing
We made it up. Then reality caught up.
What we wrote
We wrote it in 2021
One day the junior developer's main skill could be describing the problem clearly enough for the machine to solve it.
What actually happened
Reality caught up in 2025
AI coding assistants are built into mainstream development tools, and producing code from a plain-language description is now a routine part of professional software work.
Vendor product documentation and developer surveys on assistant adoption.
The joke was the job description. The job description was updated.
MISTAKE
TOMORROW, DELIVERED TODAY.
One email a week. The future, before it files a press release.
Worst case: you laugh. Best case: we predicted the future.
