Jin-hee stepped out of the café, the warm latte still cradled in his hands. Rain had slowed to a drizzle, and the neon lights reflected off the wet pavement like rivers of color. Around him, robots moved in seamless patterns. Cleaning bots glided past, scrubbing away puddles and debris. Delivery drones hovered silently, dropping packages without a sound.
Humans moved too—but only in the smallest ways. A man on the sidewalk swiped his holoscreen, eyes glued to the glowing display as a tiny robot held his briefcase. A group of schoolgirls leaned against a railing, laughing quietly at something only their holoscreens could show, while a hovering bot carried their backpacks. No one lifted a finger to help, to interact, to notice.
Even the smallest acts had been replaced. A vending machine slid a drink directly into a person's hand before they even pressed a button. Streetlights adjusted automatically to people's speed and direction. Roads cleared themselves before cars even arrived.
Jin-hee paused at a crosswalk, watching a child struggling to untangle their umbrella. Before he could step forward, a robot approached, unfolding the umbrella perfectly, handing it back to the child. The kid nodded and walked off, barely looking at the robot.
Humans didn't need to do anything anymore. They could exist in their little bubbles of comfort while machines ran the city.
Jin-hee took a sip of his latte. Warm. Bitter. Real. A small anchor in a world running entirely on wires and circuits. He watched as a cleaning bot polished a street sign, its metal fingers precise, deliberate. The hum of machinery filled the air.
"Everything moves," Jin-hee muttered to himself, "but nothing lives."