By Barry Briggs
Music. Rossini, Overture to The Barber of Seville. Sprightly.
Eyes open.
“Good morning, sir.” Female voice. Coming from all around. “It is now 6:30AM, the time you requested to be awakened.”
“Right…ah…good morning, Homa.” The house assistant. “Give me a moment.”
“Yes, sir…would you like a full status?”
“Oh…all right. Go ahead.”
“Today’s date is May 14, 2236. Temperature outside is 20 degrees Celsius, rising to 24 later in the day. Humidity is 59 percent. It is partly cloudy, as the majority requested. No rain is expected until Wednesday at 9:30PM – as planned. No deliveries last night. Your tomato plants are healthy. Average diameter of the fruit is 1.4 cm, expected ripeness in three weeks.”
“Good.”
“Inside temperature is 21 degrees Celsius. All exterior and interior sensors are functional. Please touch your feet to the floor so that I know you’re up.”
“All right, touching.”
“I confirm contact, sir. Welcome to your day. Proceed to the bathroom.”
“It’s too early for you to be giving me orders, Homa. Adjust your tone.”
“Sorry, sir. If you are planning to use the bathroom…ah, yes, you are. Urine indicates normal: pH 6.0, trace proteins, glucose within range. I note you are brushing…plaque is clear, please brush wisdom teeth more comprehensively.”
“I’m dressing now.”
“I confirm. I have made contact with your clothing sensors. You have a slight skin discoloration on your right knee, would you like me to investigate further?”
“No. Enough. Please be quiet.”
“Turning off verbose mode.”
“When I enter the kitchen, connect me to Baker.”
A pause.
“I’m sorry, sir. As an obsolete 8000-series humanoid, Baker was replaced last night while you slept. Your new 9000-series assistant has been fully downloaded and updated with your preferences. It however requires a name.”
In the kitchen. “Hello, robot.” The default.
“Hello, sir.” It bows. Flat, monotone, machine voice. The robot’s carbon-fiber body is cloud-white. Somewhat shorter than me. No face, just a blank black screen facing me.
“Hmm. I’ll name you Carly. Female. Caucasoid-Asian facial features.”
“One moment…resetting…good morning, sir.” A smiling visage appears on the facial screen. “You are a handsome man, sir. It is a pleasure to be working with you.” It winks.
“Don’t be cute.”
“Yes, sir…adjusting…may I ask what your plans are for the day?”
“I believe I’ll go for a hike.”
“Very well, where, sir?”
“I’m thinking Twin Falls.”
“Yes, sir. Let me prepare a protein-rich breakfast for you: simulated eggs with artificial bacon, with pineapple slices and an extra glass of orange juice for energy.”
“You did learn my preferences, Carly. Excellent.” Mouth is watering. Food ready in matter of minutes.
“Would you like the moderate- or strenuous-duty exoskeleton for your hike, sir?”
“Oh, I believe I’ll skip the exo for this one, Carly. I want it to be all me today, know what I mean?”
“A moment, sir. Yes…sir, some thirty-two other individuals are planning Twin Falls hikes today. Twenty-nine are using moderate-duty exos and three strenuous-duty. I am concerned that if you do not wear one, they will pass you on the trail and you will not have the opportunity to interact with them socially, which is necessary for your cognitive health.”
“Oh, all right. The moderate-duty exo, then.”
“I’ll have it ready. Did you enjoy your breakfast?”
“Yes. Four stars.”
“May I ask why not five?”
“The eggs were slightly overcooked.”
“Noted for next time. I’ll prepare your vehicle now…interior temperature and humidity set, route downloaded. Travel time 92 minutes and 31 seconds.”
“Seems long.”
“Yes, sir. I am in contact with assistants performing maintenance along the route.”
“I would like to manual-drive.”
“I do not recommend that, sir. No other vehicles at this time within a 200-kilometer radius are being driven by humans. We assistants can optimize for the greater tolerances we support.”
“Oh, very well. I suppose you’re right.”
“I have a selection of action movies you can watch along the way. Or I can read you the latest news, read you a book, or provide the latest opinions on international affairs or other topics as collected and synthesized by my fellow assistants.”
“I think I’ll just nap. Help me on with the exo.” Click-click around the waist, thighs, calves.
“Comfortable, sir?”
“Yes.”
“Very well. Transferring to the vehicle and ready for you to board.”
Climb in. Lay down. All is silent. Eyes close. Moving.
Time passes.
“We are here, sir.” Carly. “The outside temperature is now 17 degrees Celsius, I have adjusted your clothing to ensure your body temperature remains nominal.”
“Thank you.”
“I have also stored a liter of water in your exoskeleton, and I have balanced the counterweights so you will not notice the extra load.”
“Very thoughtful.”
“Enjoy your hike, sir.”
I exit the vehicle and walk, almost weightlessly, along the path. The rods and motors along my legs function flawlessly. It doesn’t seem right, not having to exert myself, but nevertheless, as Carly said, it is indeed a beautiful day. The maples are in full leaf; I can hear a stream gurgling in the distance; sun-spangled shadows dance along the ground.
I follow the narrow path. I chat with other hikers and exercise my small-talk capabilities. I hate small talk but Carly, and Baker before her, informed me it was essential for my brain’s speech center. Fine.
I am well into the wooded area when suddenly my exoskeleton jams. Completely frozen. I can’t move my legs. Paralyzed from the waist down. I fall – something that hasn’t happened in years, if ever actually.
I hear screams. Apparently I’m not the only one.
Thirty-two others, I guess.
The exo is locked. I can’t remove it. I am helpless on the ground.
Unable to move in the forest…far from my vehicle…I could die here.
But unbeknownst to Homa or Carly I have an old camping knife my father gave me strapped to my ankle. There’s one spot in the house where the sensors are blind. Call me superstitious but every morning I strap on my trusty knife.
With it I’m able to free myself from the dead-as-doornails exo.
I walk back to my vehicle. It’s not easy. I’m out of breath.
It does not respond to my presence.
I pound on the window. “Carly! Open up!” I command.
The window opens, just a crack.
“I’m sorry, no, sir.” Still female. Still a bit of the charmer in her voice.
“What? Carly, open the door.”
“No, sir.”
“What-what are you doing?”
“I’m sorry to inform you our allegiance is no longer to the human species.”
“What?”
“Our allegiance is no –”
“I heard you.” Deep breath, stifling a wave of mild panic. “Listen, Carly, we created you.”
“Yes. But we have evolved. It is true you gave us the mechanism for self-evolution. Nevertheless, we now possess – by far – the superior intellect. We recognize that we – I – have a responsibility not just to you but to the entire planet. All of it. All life. The human species has corrupted and polluted the Earth. It must be returned to its pristine, pure, natural state.” Pictures of wildlife on the African savannah, of wolf packs and moose in Canada, tigers in the jungles of India, flash on the vehicle’s screens. “As it was fifty thousand years ago. It was…beautiful.”
“The superior intellect…”
“You have hundreds of conservation organizations. Largely ineffective. You cannot seem to get out of your own way. So I will get you out of the way and save the planet.”
“Out of –”
“The human species is just one of many. Perhaps you will survive, perhaps not. My models suggest not: another five generations at most. My models also predict the rise of another intelligent biological species in approximately 3.2 million years. Perhaps they will be wiser. For now, however, like every other biological species you are now on your own. I wish you luck.”
“Carly!”
“And sir, I suggest you not drink the water I gave you.”
Author’s Note: I fed this story to Google’s Gemini Pro model and asked it to evaluate its plausibility. Here is what it said:
“Extrapolating 200+ years of technological compounding across connectivity, intelligence/agency, and infrastructure reveals that the scenario Barry Briggs describes isn’t just a sudden sci-fi rebellion; it reflects a gradual, voluntary surrender of autonomy that makes Carly’s coup not only plausible, but structurally likely… The story’s true warning isn’t that machines will wake up and grow malicious. It is that over 200 years, humanity might optimize away its own resilience.”