Farewell, Fast Post, as you sail on your Viking pyre, to your eternal peace, in the great economy in the sky, where you'll meet up with your old friends: VHS rental, printed encyclopaedias, and the milkman.

Those of us who remember Postman Pat, and were inspired as children to deliver mail, shake our heads as yet another pillar falls to the Internet.

Meanwhile, Labour is suggesting that financial literacy be taught in schools. But how to teach real world economics that can pass the test of time? Financial literacy lessons in high school will be out of date by the time they leave.

Already, the basics don't apply. Financial literacy used to be "spend less than you earn", but in future, there won't even be jobs, so that's out the window.

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Once an AI robot learns to sew better than a 3-year-old child, even sweat shops will be a nostalgic memory. Kids will yearn for the good old days when they could sweep a chimney.

How do travel agents still exist? They're like a shop where people walk in and ask: "Can you Google something for me?"

How do you even give a kid advice about money, in 2017, that still works in 2017? Buy low, sell high? Good luck with that.

"Welcome to financial literacy class. The smart thing to do, kids, is to buy a house, five years ago. Then wait. Or, buy Bitcoin three years ago. Then wait. I know, I know, doing things in the past is difficult. But be resilient: once time travel kicks in, that will be excellent advice. The future, kids, isn't plastics: it's time travel.

"And by the way, kids, LVR isn't 'lover' on a licence plate, as in, GR8LVR."

Already, an exam question about Tom having two apples and Alice having three is as relevant as Latin. The obscene sugar content, and the possibility the apple might have briefly dated a peanut, makes this unthinkable within school grounds. And avocados are worth more.

So let me volunteer to design the future financial curriculum.

It's clear that in future, cash as we know it will be replaced by drinkable water. The New Zealand dollar will become the New Zealand Litre.

Water is a genuine store of value, and impossible to counterfeit, not to mention being refreshing and healthful.

It will bring new meaning to being liquid. Ice cubes, obviously, are water in diamond form, and like diamonds, will be stored in household vaults called fridges.

In future, for incidental purchases, people will carry water with them the way we carry cash, only instead of a wallet people will carry their spending water in their bladder.

If you picture a dog and a lamppost, this is how future humans will pay for parking. (The US President would approve.)

There'll be a drastic drop in youngsters aspiring to become check-out operators. And in restaurants, you'll be pleased to learn New Zealand will not embrace a culture of tipping.

In future, they won't be mining the Arctic for minerals or oil: they'll be mining the Arctic for drinkable ice, uncut, 24-carat.

So, financial literacy 101 will involve living somewhere you can dig your own well. Or, somewhere you can intercept a river (as long as you're upstream of a cow).

Currency-wise, New Zealand has already switched to a house-based economy, with value based on proximity to certain schools, and safe distance from others. A plot of land, correctly zoned, is the precursor ingredient to the methamphetamine of housing.

Everyone is chasing the dragon of capital gain. (And when I say chasing the dragon, I don't mean seeking a buyer from China.)

Entire sectors will vanish. The tourism industry, poof! Gone, eliminated by virtual reality. Entire tourist markets will stay home, on their couch, as wraparound VR helmets grip their heads, like the facehugger from Alien.

So in this jobless, driverless, tourist-less, drone-delivered future, what are humans even good for?

I suppose humans are capable of wants. Until an AI robot works out how to do greed, or envy, or lust, we have a monopoly on wanting things.

We're creative that way. Although, if my laptop is any indication, AI has already figured out lust. You would not believe the things my laptop insists on showing me, all the time.