24/7: Late Capitalism and the Ends of Sleep (Verso, 2013) traces a two-century project: the systematic abolition of temporal boundaries between production and rest, engagement and withdrawal, day and night. The book begins with gas lighting in early nineteenth-century European cities and moves through electric illumination, the telephone, radio, television, the personal computer, email, and the smartphone — each technology progressively narrowing the temporal space in which a human being could exist without producing, consuming, or being available for production and consumption. Sleep, as the last remaining territory of human life that resisted capture, became the book's focal point and the diagnostic instrument through which the larger project became visible.
Crary's argument was that the 24/7 condition is not merely a lifestyle problem but a structural feature of late capitalism — an economic system that requires the continuous availability of its subjects and has developed, over two centuries, the technologies capable of producing it. Thomas Edison's reported four-hour sleep schedule and public denigration of sleep as cave-man heritage were not personal eccentricities but the logic of the system made flesh. The inventor of the tool that abolished night was also its ideologue.
The book's relevance to artificial intelligence is structural rather than predictive. Crary was writing in 2013, before the generative AI revolution, and his concerns were principally the smartphone and the attention economy of social media. But the framework he built — the recognition that each new technology removes one more temporal friction, colonizes one more interval that had previously resisted extraction — reads the AI moment as its logical completion. The imagination-to-artifact ratio of The Orange Pill is, in 24/7 terms, the elimination of the last remaining temporal gap between idea and execution. The gap was never merely practical. It was the temporal infrastructure of reflection, the space in which the question should this be built? had room to form.
The book diagnoses what Crary elsewhere calls the achievement subject: the person who has internalized the imperative to produce so completely that external coercion becomes unnecessary. The factory whistle has been removed; the office door has dissolved; the collaborator who once went home has been replaced by a machine that never sleeps. And the worker, carrying within herself two centuries of accumulated cultural imperatives, finds herself at three in the morning unable to stop — not because anyone is forcing her but because the reason to stop has been hollowed out by a regime that defines rest as waste.
The most important single insight in the book is that the 24/7 regime operates through internalization rather than enforcement. The worker is not chained to the desk. The worker cannot leave the desk — not because the door is locked, but because the imperative to optimize has been absorbed so thoroughly that leaving the desk feels like failure. This is the condition within which the AI collaborator arrives, and it is what makes the arrival so consequential: the tool is so good, so responsive, so capable of producing genuine value at any hour, that the worker's decision to rest registers not as self-care but as self-sabotage.
The book emerged from Crary's long engagement with the history of temporal management under industrial capitalism, extending the framework of Techniques of the Observer and Suspensions of Perception from vision and attention into time itself. The specific occasion was the maturation of smartphone culture and the recognition that the temporal colonization he had been tracing for decades had, with the arrival of the always-on device, reached a new threshold. The book was published as a slim Verso volume — intentionally accessible, intentionally polemical — and became by a wide margin his most widely read work.
24/7 is a two-century project. From gas lighting through the smartphone, each technology eliminates one more temporal friction that had previously protected human life from continuous extraction.
Sleep is the last territory. The systematic attempt to capture every hour of human time encounters, at sleep, a biological limit that the regime works to minimize without being able to eliminate entirely.
The regime operates through internalization. External coercion has been replaced by the achievement subject's self-administered imperative. The whip and the hand that holds it belong to the same person.
Perpetual availability produces perpetual obligation. The tool that never sleeps becomes, for the user, an architectural expression of 24/7 logic applied to the creative process itself.
The abolition of waiting is the abolition of reflection. The gap between idea and execution was never merely practical — it was the temporal space in which second thoughts occurred, in which the question of whether the idea was worth executing had room to form.
Crary has been criticized for romanticizing pre-industrial temporalities and for underestimating the agency of subjects within the 24/7 regime. Scorched Earth (2022), which calls for a radical break from the internet complex entirely, intensified these critiques. The response from within the framework is that agency survives but requires structural support — the dams that protect cognitive rest against a current that individual will alone cannot resist.