Essay
“Did you hear? Liam died yesterday,” said Dr. Raja. He was staring blankly out of his office window overlooking the parking lot, three stories down. “No one knows exactly why. He was in great health, and then suddenly, he just dropped dead in front of his wife.” Dr. Raja turned back from the window and began shuffling through the pile of papers on his desk, pretending not to be affected.
“Good grief,” said his assistant. She was frozen at hearing this, holding the stack of logs she’d been filing, staring at Dr. Raja. She also knew Liam. She had a bit of a flirtatious behaviour with him, which she always regretted since he was happily married. “That sounds like one of those unusual cases of a brain aneurysm. It can happen to anyone, you know.”
Dr. Raja didn’t look up from his papers. His beard, more salt than pepper these days, caught the afternoon light. “Maybe. It’s too early to tell. All we know is that one day he was alive and well, and the next he was just…gone. Such a shame. He told me that he’d just purchased some new ‘bots. Those Apex Domestics, with the bronze finish, that handle your chores. They basically do everything for you. Cooking, cleaning, and even polishing shoes. Now his wife will live in that hollow mansion, with nothing to do but be served by those metal entities, or gadgets, or whatever.” Dr. Raja shook his head at the thought. “Hm…let’s refrain from talking about this.”
“I have heard of many similar cases recently,” his assistant blurted out, her tone turned from saddened to a mysterious seriousness. She stepped further into the spacious office, past the glass cabinet of family photos. “Apparently these brain aneurysms are becoming more common. There are more spiritually developed places in the East. Kurukshetra, I think, and some monasteries in Kyoto, where the nobles warn of a cosmic horror being perpetrated. A conspiracy against the human race.”
This perked Dr. Raja’s ears. Not because this was new information, but because it wasn’t. In fact, he had been sent secretive emails on this subject, encrypted PDFs with no subject line, sent through ProtonMail from addresses he didn’t recognize – so he could easily dismiss it as spam if anyone asked.
His older compatriots had been warning of this moment long before the robotic revolution of the Western powers. They had seen the writing on the wall in modern humanity’s pursuit of technology. Looking outside of the soul, towards the external rather than the internal, meant certain demise. And that’s exactly what happened.
The pursuit of abundance in modernity saw the self-named developed nations force household robots on the masses. This stripped away the opportunity of laborious work, which they then proclaimed as utopia. Since people did not have to work hard and thus encounter the friction of daily living, they would naturally play, create, love, and enjoy life.
When the land of plenty arrived, and the post-scarcity society was documented in the history books, a core tenet was lost. What the developed nations didn’t realize was that they merely shiftedscarcity, from the physical world into the spiritual. Dr. Raja and many others agreed with this notion, but what could they do? Suggest going back to when resources were scarce? To speak out against the land of plenty was a blasphemy hitherto unknown.
Suggesting that utopia is not the ideal state of Being for humanity sent shivers down every career individuals’ spine. They’d be ostracized, cancelled. Ridiculed as someone who didn’t want the world to share in abundance. How could they explain that the absence of scarcity was itself scarcity?
Lost in thought, he fiddled with the cool, metal cufflink at his wrist, the one’s his wife had given to him years ago. He thought about her eyes, those blue gems. The first thing he noticed when he saw her. He noticed his assistant staring at him, awaiting his response. This ejected him from his reverie. He met his assistant’s eyes across the room and motioned her over. “Lisa, please say more.”
She nodded and dismissed her organizing. She walked over and took a seat in one of the chairs across from his desk. Behind him, shelves bulged with volumes on psychology and philosophy. Many focused on the social impact of technology. A coffee cup sat nearby, filled with pens rather than coffee or gin. Dr. Raja pushed his papers aside and listened intently.
“Okay, well, I don’t know. I heard this woman talking about it. Australian, I think. She does work on social architecture, deep theory of humanity stuff. It was on a podcast, maybe a few years ago? Anyway, she said that when our soul no longer has anything to learn in life, that we drop dead. Just like Liam. She said it was a spiritual crime for the human soul to be removed from all problems, to not face any adversity.”
“A spiritual crime...” Dr. Raja murmured in agreement, more to himself than to her.
“Exactly. Our focus on technology in the 20th and 21st centuries meant that we were slowly approaching a critical mass.” Lisa’s hands moved as she spoke, and she knocked over the cup of pens. They both reached for them at the same time, their hands nearly touching before she pulled back. “Sorry. I get animated when I talk about this.” Her gaze locked onto his, unusual for her, and he noticed for the first time the flecks of green scattered through her hazel irises. They reminded him of his wife’s. Not in a romantic way, he couldn’t dream of loving anyone other than his beloved. But Dr. Raja knew that the eyes were the window to the soul, and Lisa’s eyes were faint.
He recognized this as fear and curiosity. “No, please continue,” he said, leaving the pens where they fell.
“This critical mass, we couldn’t backtrack from it unless all progress in AI, robotics, and the Western pursuit of utopia was stopped. This, obviously, could not happen. We couldn’t stop advancing technology. We were too far gone.” Her voice dropped to almost a whisper, and Dr. Raja found himself leaning in. Outside, a car alarm started, causing both of them to jump in their seats. It then stopped just as suddenly. “We aren’t experiencing these brain aneurysms like we are all led to believe. It’s all a coverup for the real problem, which we cannot really talk about, because no one can seriously campaign against utopia.”
“When we hear of these people dropping like flies, it’s not because of physiological or biological problems. They result, very directly, from the soul being finished. It can happen to anyone, at any time. The next thing out of my mouth, your mouth, or anyone around here could be enough for our soul to deem that it’s learned everything possible. Simply because, after outsourcing all our cognition and humanistic faculties to technology, there is nothing left for us to do.” She laughed, but it was bitter, hollow. “So we just drop dead because we’ve automated away the very point of living: to experience things.”
Dr. Raja leaned back in his chair, then forward again, listening. He couldn’t sit still, and he couldn’t stop moving. Both felt rather uncomfortable. He fixed his eyes on the wall just behind Lisa’s head, where a framed degree hung slightly askew. The weight of her words settled on him.
“Lisa,” he began. “I agree with what you are saying. All of it. I’m so glad you had the courage to even talk about this with me. It takes some bravery.” He chuckled. “But what do you suspect we should do about it?”
“I don’t know, sir. This is just what I’ve heard. I’m worried that, even with our work we do at this office, it’s more like shuffling deck chairs on the sinking Titanic, than actually contributing to human progress. You and I can read all the books on your shelf and paint all the pictures, but is this absence of suffering really making us happy?” She laughed again, that same bitter sound. “These ideals of utopia and post-scarcity that we have been forced to live with, they just don’t work for us humans. We need problems to solve. We need adversity to contend with. We need death, impermanence, in some way. People keep talking about being locked out of heaven. What about when we’re locked into heaven?”
“Your kids,” Dr. Raja said softly. “You mentioned them before, that they are too spoiled in this day and age.”
“God, my kids. They stopped thinking, literally.” She looked towards the floor in shame. “They now need AI to work through a simple thought. I found my son asking his chatbot about the best way to ask me to ask the ‘bots to cook burgers for dinner. Seriously? He can’t even hold a bloody conversation without his damn chatbot. Both my kids stopped moving around and playing. Now they just—” She rubbed her face with both hands, then looked at him through her fingers. “They use robots and drones for everything. Yesterday my daughter asked her robot to tie her shoes. She’s twelve.”
The fluorescent light flickered above them. They didn’t look up.
“It’s like technology has slowly encroached over every single aspect of being human and taken it away. For what?” Her voice was rising now, and she seemed to realize it. “Isn’t technology supposed to augment us? This is not augmentation in the slightest. It’s taken away everything that we value. You know, I actually enjoyed doing the dishes and cooking. It was mundane, but it gave me the chance to be by myself. Now I’m forced to spend every waking moment relaxing, or creating, or playing, or making love to strangers, or drinking wine with people I cannot stand. I’m told I’m supposed to be happier now. But what if I was happier before? What if I didn’t want everything done for me?!”
“Lisa—”
“I know I sound insane right now.” She was looking around the room as if someone was listening, her movements suddenly jerky, uncoordinated. “These teachings are fundamental to my soul. People always refer back to prehistory, when we were living in caves and had to fight for food. They make me feel bad and tell me I have it too good and that I’m complaining that my grocery stores are too full or that all my kids are alive and healthy. This is not my goddamn point. To be human is to suffer, in some way. What these fucking nations do not understand is that suffering is healthy. It’s what makes us human. And lately I haven’t been feeling like myself.” Lisa paused and looked at Dr. Raja intensely. He noticed something shift in her mind, but for the life of him, he couldn’t tell what it was. “Honestly, Dr. Raja, is it okay if we stop talking about this? I’m glad I took the risk and told you about how I’ve been feeling for a while, but—” She pressed a hand to her stomach. “I’m starting to have a funny feeling. Excuse me.”
Dr. Raja watched her get up and leave in a hurry, the door clicking shut behind her. He sat in his office for far longer than he intended to, lost in thought. The afternoon was fading. He typically left to go home around this time, but tonight felt different. He stayed until late evening, contemplating the many years of technological progress, the promises of the land of plenty and societal abundance. The developed nations promised, for so long, that things would be better when scarcity was removed from the planet. Though, like humans always do, they never factored in our future in the present. We blindly crafted technology and dealt with the repercussions afterwards. Such has always been the mindset of the developed nations.
He got in his car and drove home. The silver Mercedes was seven years old now, but he kept it immaculate. He chose not to listen to his favourite podcast, turning his phone off completely. He wanted to be away from technology for some time. Tonight especially, he wanted to be fully present behind the wheel. The roads were quieter than usual at this hour. He took the longer route that went through the backstreets, adding fifteen unnecessary minutes. Dr. Raja hated wasting time, but tonight he noticed some landscapes he had never bothered to pay attention to before. A gnarled oak tree near the intersection of Elm and Fifth, a small antique shop with burgundy awnings. It made him feel good to see more details that generally only registered as blurs in his commute. There was still more experience to be had, though, only if he looked away from technology and towards his own life. Towards his soul.
He pulled into the driveway, the asphalt new, smooth and dark. Long shadows were cast across the oak planks on their porch, courtesy of the evening sun. And there, his wife stood. She wore her blue cardigan, the frayed cuffs visible even from where he parked. Her blonde hair lifted slightly in the breeze. He met her eyes, the ones that had first caught him in a trance. Tonight, they were filled with something he couldn’t place. Gripped with fear, he wrenched open the car door and made his way towards her, arms outstretched, “What is the matter, darling?”
That look in her eyes deepened as she tilted her head to him. “It’s your assistant, Lisa,” she whispered, tears brimming from her eyes and making their way down her freckled cheeks. “Her mother just called. She said she couldn’t reach you. Lisa passed away an hour ago.”
All the blood drained from Dr. Raja’s face. How? How could someone he had just been speaking to suddenly be gone, erased from the dust of this planet? The night around them was silent. No people outside. No cars passed. Only a steady breeze moved between them. He struggled to speak, only managing to get out a hoarse, “How did she die?”
“I’m so sorry, baby. I don’t know.” His wife could see he was fighting back emotions. She threw herself around him and pressed her ear to his heart. “They’re still trying to figure it out, but her mother mentioned something about a brain aneurysm.”
Montréal, 2025