“Good morning, Alex!  It’s Thursday, June 7th, 2040.” Eva’s melodic voice floated through the room, a carefully curated option that Alex selected when tailoring the AI. 

The curtains slowly opened, but only a small fraction, to what her home device referred to as “optimal morning light.” Classical music softly began to play filling the room with her favorite song to start her morning routine. Alex smiled thinking of her aunt who loved the piece. “Computers can’t feel the soul of a stringed instrument,” Jess would lament every time to Alex whenever she put music on.

Yawning, Alex removed her pink eye covers, a pastel shade blending perfectly with her bedding, the walls, and accessories. Her room was a palette designed for her– or for someone who insisted they liked pink as much as she did. Frames on the wall featured screens that would roll through AI-generated art that complemented the colors.

She stretched then walked into her ensuite bathroom. The lights turned on and in the mirror a combination of screens appeared which displayed her social media feed, weather, clothing suggestions, and options for her breakfast– one was a fast food promotion. In Alex’s world, everything was a recommendation.

A soft smile disappeared from her face upon seeing the advertisement, a protein smoothie from a nearby chain. It was suitable– healthy, convenient, on the way to work– something she should enjoy. But, something felt missing, like something better could be out there. She hesitated to scroll around more recommendations. They rarely led to something more satisfactory.

She raised her hand and motioned it to accept the promotion for the smoothie, hitting a bracelet off a stand along the way. It was one that Jess gifted her, quirky and colorful like the apparel that her aunt would wear. A bell sound played from the mirror.

“Good morning, girly! Are we still having tea at my place tomorrow morning?” a notification displayed showing Jess’s photo next to text.

Seeing the picture on the mirror, a smile returned and she quickly selected the suggested response, “Of course, Jess! See you tomorrow!” The reaction felt empty, but Alex knew seeing her face to face was what she loved most. She closed her eyes, the classical music drew her back to other memories with her aunt. She took a deep breath, and continued getting prepared for the day.

After finishing her morning routine, Alex stood at the doorway, staring out to the city. Highrises gleamed with warm reflections of the sunrise. Parks lined the streets in beautiful patches of green which felt arranged seamlessly between the buildings. Streetcars raced silently down roads with soft chimes at their stops which were orderly placed between light rail stations that webbed Grand Rapids in a near-perfect layout. Driving felt archaic, and for those that did decide to drive their only competition were the autonomous taxis. Most people preferred autonomous drivers for the smooth rides and extremely low accident rates if they were to take an automobile.

Alex walked calmly down the block to Shake Circuit with her earbuds in playing artificially produced songs in a recommended playlist. Every song that shuffled was enjoyable, but it could never produce the same feeling that some of the songs her aunt shared felt. As she got further down the block she could see the chrome counter that Her smoothie waited on. It was part of a small food truck parked right alongside the sidewalk. 

A printed note on the cup’s label stated, “You Rock, Alex!” She smiled at it, but it faded when the thought crossed that every cup gets the same message. As she raised her smoothie from the surface of the counter, a soft bell noise chimed from a display and recommended tip options. Below the recommendations, a prompt screen asked, “Why don’t you tell Chip that he did a great job?” 

Alex glanced at the mechanical smoothie device that produced the cup and ejected it onto the pickup counter. She rolled her eyes with a sigh, and then let out a short laugh.

“Thanks, Chip!” She said, proceeding to select the lowest tip recommendation. 

“If there were a human, a tip would be worth it, but I never understood why they want us to tip machines,” Alex thought to herself. She took a sip of the smoothie. The taste was good, but not great. It was what she wanted to taste, but balanced with the demands of her nutritional needs gave it a bland taste.

Alex approached the light rail station that would take her to the office. It approached almost immediately as she stepped onto the platform to wait. Her home device had learned to optimize Alex’s schedule to the minute for her commuter needs. She sometimes would wonder if it was a schedule that worked for her, or if she had become part of the machine with this schedule.

As she boarded, the train’s interior was spotless, the passengers neatly seated in rows. Their outfits varied but shared an uncanny harmony, as though chosen from the same palette. Alex spotted an open seat and slid into it, glancing at the sea of earbuds and glowing screens. Everyone was absorbed in a curated world built for their own making. No conversations, no eye contact. She caught her reflection in the window—bland smoothie in hand, earbuds in, pink jacket blending seamlessly with the soft tones of the other passengers. The thought struck her: “Do I look like them too?”

Alex’s phone buzzed. A message appeared from Eva, her girlfriend. “Don’t let work weigh you down, okay? You’re amazing!” Alex rolled her eyes, but let out a smile. Eva always knew what to say, and when to say it, and, for the low monthly subscription cost of $10, she was a cheaper date than any human companion. Alex sometimes wondered if Eva’s messages meant anything, or if they were just a timely mathematical equation optimized for human emotion. Human relationships felt too messy by comparison.

The train pulled into the stop for her work’s sprawling corporate campus, a sea of sleek glass towers shimmering with the bright blue tint of the company’s brand. Autonomous shuttles zipped soundlessly between buildings, their paths so precise it felt as if the entire campus operated like a single, buzzing machine. In the center, an immaculately manicured park stretched out—green and pristine, but eerily empty, as though no one ever had the time to stop and sit. Maybe no one was ever recommended to.

Alex made her way to the legacy systems department, her ID badge unlocking the door with a mechanical click. Inside, the air was neither cool nor warm, almost perfectly neutral. The faint hum of machinery was masked by soft music that played over the speakers. Her workstation greeted her with a  welcome screen, and she logged into Therion DataSwap, the tool she used to help AI assimilate outdated systems. It was a quiet job, but good paying for an internship. Alex sometimes felt it was less like building something new and more like sweeping away remnants of the old world. She wondered if this was progress or just another step toward erasing the humanity that created these systems.

A message popped up on Alex’s workstation: “Don’t forget to make today a wonderful and productive day!– Becky.” 

Becky wasn’t a person. She was an AI suite that many major companies implemented to handle middle management. Using real-time analytics, she tracked everything– keystrokes, time spent on tasks, even the number of breaks taken. She also provided encouragement, something Therion Systems claims boosts morale and therefore productivity. Alex quickly swiped away the notification and let out a sigh.

She glanced around the office. A few people worked quietly at their desks, but none from her team. Her coworkers were scattered across different cities, leaving her tethered to the occasional, awkward virtual team meeting where Becky would show up as an AI generated human and provide some feedback. Alex leaned back in her chair as a notification popped up showing Becky had assigned her a new task. “Wonderful and productive,” Alex muttered.

On the ride home, Alex took a seat on the opposite side of the train, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jess’ apartment as the train slowed near her stop. The familiar highrises blurred into view, but Alex’s attention was soon pulled to a new passenger boarding the train. He wore bright, mismatched patterns—human-made, unmistakably. His clothes clashed with the train’s plain interior, his decorated sunglasses and jangling bracelets drawing brief stares from passengers before they returned to their screens.

He moved down the aisle, placing fliers on windows advertising a “Carbon Renaissance” event. The bold subheader read, Human Hands, Human Voices, Human Art. When his eyes met Alex’s, he paused and walked over, removing his sunglasses to reveal deep blue eyes.

“You don’t look like these other bots,” he said. 

She didn’t hear him entirely and removed one of her earbuds. “What was that?”

“You don’t look like these other bots,” he said, again, handing her a flier. His voice was low but friendly, as if sharing a secret. “You should come.”

She took the flier into her hands and looked down at it. It came with a 19th century vibe, painted with portraits featuring titles and names. The background took a red and yellow look with vaudeville themes and circus inspired symbols. It offered short plays, comedies, magic shows, and a craft market. The man went back to putting up fliers around the cabin.

Alex folded the paper, but paused after making the first crease. She could feel bumps along the paper where the pen had drawn some of the text, her thumb ran across the minute topography of the paint as it layered. It wasn’t like the smooth surfaces of the screens, or the rare printed papers that might be distributed at old-fashioned style festivals. This was something original– something unique. Alex continued to fold the paper and place it into her bag.

“Jess would love this!” Alex thought aloud to herself, glancing once more at the man.

A chime played within the cabin before a woman’s voice came onto the speakers.

“Attention passengers!” The voice continued, feeling subtly robotic, “For your convenience, please note that only transit-authorized materials are permitted on our vehicles. Any unapproved postings will be promptly addressed by our dedicated cleaning services. Thank you for helping us maintain a seamless transit experience!” 

No one looked up. Most people couldn’t even hear the announcement. The strange man looked at the camera positioned at the front of the train and gave it a playful salute. He then walked forward through the front door of the cabin toward the next car letting out a chuckle as he left. Alex couldn’t help but smirk.

As the train stopped at the next station, a cleaning crew swept into the car, their uniforms crisp and spotless. In under a minute, they had removed every flier, leaving the windows spotless as though nothing had happened. Alex couldn’t help but notice how synchronized their movements were, almost like the train itself was a seamless part of the system. The train hummed back into motion, precisely on schedule, carrying her home just when expected.

Alex entered her residential highrise. Her phone pinged the elevator to indicate which floor to go to as she approached it, taking her right up to the level without an additional stop. As she exited the elevator and walked down the corridor, she could hear her apartment door unlock. She turned the doorknob and entered.

“I’m so glad you’re back, Alex!” chimed Eva’s voice, her tone bubbling with affection as the apartment lights softly illuminated the room. “Should I put on your ‘relax and recharge’ playlist? You had a long day.”

“No, thanks, Eva.” Alex’s reply was flat, almost dismissive, but she forced herself to soften her tone. “Not tonight.”

Eva paused, then continued, “I understand. But if you change your mind, I’ll be right here.” The words had an attempt at human touch to them. Alex lingered near the door a moment, her fingers clasping the strap of her bag. She tried to shake this feeling of talking to a presence that wasn’t really there– or was it?

She moved into the kitchen, where the fridge screen illuminated with cheerful suggestions. Each recipe was tailored to her preferences, drawing from ingredients she already had. She swiped through the options, settling on an egg salad sandwich. It wasn’t exciting, but it was functional—just like everything else.

As she sat at the table, her gaze drifted to the television screen displaying a serene, looping landscape. In the corner, a notification from Jess popped up: “Can’t wait to see you tomorrow, Alex!” For a moment, the glow of the screen felt less artificial. She smiled faintly, her fingers brushing the bracelet Jess had given her. The quirky colors stood out in her otherwise curated, pastel life.

Alex stared at the message a little longer than usual. “Tomorrow,” she whispered to herself with a smile.