When the airline knows what you need before you do, who is really in control? Designing the interaction layer for a future where AI-driven anticipation has replaced most active passenger decision-making.
Airlines are investing heavily in anticipatory technology (AI rebooking engines, biometric identity, ambient spatial interfaces), but they’re designing for efficiency, not trust. Delta’s AI concierge can already rebook you during disruptions. Biometric gates are rolling out globally. Parallel Reality displays at Detroit show personalized information to 100 passengers on a single screen.
The technology is arriving. The question is less about what it can do; it’s what it should feel like. Imagine a system that acts on your behalf and leaves you feeling more in control, not less: it books the trip, clears the morning, routes around the delay you hadn’t noticed yet, and not once do you feel watched.
The difference between served and surveilled was never capability. It’s legibility, whether you can always see what it’s doing and why. That’s the future worth designing.

I ran a STEEPX analysis mapping emerging signals across social, technological, economic, environmental, political and experiential dimensions. A Causal Layered Analysis then dug beneath the surface-level technology trends to find the structural beliefs underneath them.
Socially, post-pandemic travel anxiety is baseline. Technologically, the capability exists but adoption moves at the speed of trust, not innovation. Economically, dynamic pricing makes passengers feel surveilled, not served. Politically, biometric consent is now legally mandated interaction design. Experientially, passengers benchmark against Amazon and Apple Pay, not other airlines, and that gap is structural.
This thesis directly challenges the prevailing UX orthodoxy that the best technology is invisible. A good host is present but not intrusive, explains without lecturing, and anticipates without presuming. Invisibility removes the one thing a passenger needs most when a system acts for them: the ability to see it acting.
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. The first version went wide before it went deep, and I built the whole thing out before testing whether the premise held.
Sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore. It tested as more work than the thing it replaced, which is the one result a redesign cannot survive.
Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation. The version I kept held on to the intent and threw out the scaffolding around it.
The project culminated in a narrated speculative film following Noah Almeida, an urban resilience planner flying Portland to Chicago to D.C. for a federal grant review. A storm cancels his Chicago connection. Under today’s system, that’s a rebooking desk, hold music, and a missed meeting. Under the 2036 system, the airline preemptively reroutes him through JFK, books an air taxi to D.C., adjusts his hotel and sets his alarm, all while explaining what it’s doing and giving him the choice to override.


Every scene in the film was built to test one mechanism. Three of them carry the whole thesis, and each one is a different answer to the same question: how does a system that acts for you stay legible while it does it?
The system proposes, the passenger decides, and it remembers the preference. Not a binary on/off for AI but a spectrum of control the passenger can move along, which matters because the right amount of automation is different on a commute than it is on a first international flight.
Every AI decision shows its reasoning in plain language. When a flight cancels, the system offers three reroute options with their tradeoffs stated: fastest arrival, best seat, most flexibility. It shows its work, which is what turns a decision made for you into a decision you agreed to.
The system doesn’t just recover from disruption, it finds new possibilities inside it. Trust is earned not only by explaining and offering choices but by being genuinely useful when things break. The air taxi is the test case: an option the passenger would never have found.
The hardest design decision was resisting the urge to make the system invisible. The instinct in anticipatory design is to remove friction entirely, to make things just work. But the CLA’s deepest layer revealed that human agency is non-negotiable. A system that acts perfectly but invisibly isn’t a good host. It’s a benevolent captor.
The project’s core argument: technology that anticipates your needs isn’t enough. It has to show its work, give you choices, and be genuinely resourceful when things break. That’s not invisible technology. That’s a good host.