In an office dominated by whirring servos and algorithmic efficiency, Gary finds himself the last meatbag on the payroll. By day, he’s officially titled “Human Liaison” – which mostly means he’s there to reassure the occasional analog client that Homo sapiens haven’t gone entirely extinct at HQ. By night, as sensors dim the lights (to save energy for the all-night robot work sprint), Gary sits surrounded by the soft whir of machines that neither need sleep nor coffee breaks, wondering if he, too, should start speaking in binary just to fit in. Every one of Gary’s colleagues got automated: accounting’s now a fleet of spreadsheet-savvy AIs, sales is run by a charming chatbot with an endless repertoire of small talk, and the intern pool has literally become a pool of data in a server. Even Sparky, the office dog, was replaced by a robo-pup that doesn’t shed on the carpet. Gary’s days are a mix of existential dread and odd perks – after all, he always wins employee of the month now, no competition, just a ceremonial mirror selfie on the trophy.
