Jin-hee walked through the streets of Neo-Tokyo, the air buzzing softly with the hum of electricity and the faint scent of ozone. Neon lights reflected off the wet pavement, but they weren't for him—they were for the robots. They didn't need rest, didn't need sleep, didn't even need breaks. Humans did nothing.
Everywhere he looked, machines moved with precision and purpose. Delivery drones zipped overhead, dropping parcels exactly where they belonged. Cleaning bots glided down sidewalks, scrubbing every crack in the concrete until it gleamed. Construction robots stacked steel beams for skyscrapers taller than any human could climb. Even the smallest tasks had been taken away. Children's toys assembled themselves, meals cooked themselves, messages delivered without a single human hand touching them.
People walked past all of it like it was normal. Teenagers sat on benches, scrolling endlessly on their holoscreens while robots brought them coffee and snacks. Families lounged in their apartments as cooking bots prepared dinner, robots tidied up, and entertainment bots performed perfect songs and dances.
Jin-hee paused outside a café. A robot barista moved fluidly behind the counter, hands whirring and clicking as it prepared dozens of drinks simultaneously. A group of customers watched, lazily sipping drinks they hadn't even helped make. Nobody talked to each other. Nobody did anything.
Sometimes, Jin-hee wondered if humans had forgotten how to move, how to think for themselves. Why bother walking when delivery drones could bring you anywhere? Why bother cooking when machines could do it faster? Why bother even learning when robots knew everything already?
He shook his head, trying not to feel embarrassed for them—or angry. The city was beautiful in its perfection. It sparkled under neon and rain. But it felt empty. Hollow.
And in that emptiness, Jin-hee couldn't stop asking himself: What happens when the robots stop?