Disclaimer: This article is a work of science fiction. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. It explores speculative concepts about AI, society, and human relationships within a fictional future.

The tax notice sat on his desk like a death certificate.

John stared at it, unblinking, as if looking away would make it less real.

Across from him, Lewis adjusted his glasses, scrolling through projections only an AI could fully understand.

“You’re not going to make it through the quarter,” Lewis said. Not even sugarcoating it.

John exhaled, pressing a hand to his forehead.

“We had a strong quarter last year. We were doing fine.”

Lewis just looked at him, like a doctor about to break bad news.

“John, listen. This isn’t your fault. It’s the market. It’s the economy. But mostly? It’s the AI.”

John’s hands clenched into fists, nails biting into his palms.

“We make precision-engineered parts for industrial cooling systems. These contracts used to last years.”

“Used to,” Lewis echoed. “Now? OtisI factories are undercutting you on price, delivery time, and production scale. You’re still paying human wages, maintenance, utilities. They don’t.”

John’s stomach twisted.

A decade ago, when automation had first started creeping in, he had fought tooth and nail to keep his people employed. He had believed in humans. He had refused to cut jobs just to compete with machines.

And now?

He was the one being cut.

His people were next.

“You’re saying I should fire people?” His voice felt foreign in his own mouth.

Lewis sighed. “I’m saying you might not have a choice.”

John’s eyes drifted to the factory floor below.

Through the window, he could see the machines still humming, still running, still doing their job.

But the people? They weren’t moving.

They stood in small groups, whispering. Waiting.

They already knew.

John swallowed hard.

He had built this factory with his own hands. The concrete they stood on? He had poured it. The machines? He had installed them himself.

And now?

A machine across the border, running 24/7 without a single human, was replacing him.

His phone buzzed.

A message from an old client. Someone who had sworn they’d never switch suppliers.

“Hey John, just a heads-up, we’re moving our orders to OtisI. You’ve been great, but… it’s just too efficient. Hope you understand.”

Hope you understand.

John let out a shaky breath.

He had given everything to this factory. It had taken his marriage. It had taken his youth.

And now? It was taking him, too.

Something inside him, something old, something forgotten, stirred.

A part of him that knew how to walk away.

The Shamanic Hook

His fingers brushed against the wooden talisman he kept in his pocket—a gift from his teacher, something he had stopped wearing years ago.

For a moment, he turned it over in his palm, feeling the worn edges, the smooth curve of something that had once felt like a guide.

He closed his eyes.

And in that instant, he was not here.

He was back in rural Indonesia, standing on a windswept ridge, his teacher beside him. A younger man. A different man.

His teacher’s voice echoed in his mind. “The river flows where it must. Do not fight it. Find where you belong.”

John’s breath caught.

He had spent decades ignoring that voice.

But now? Now he wasn’t sure if he had any other choice.

His phone buzzed again. The real world pulling him back.

He looked at the screen.

Another client. Another loss.

The river flows where it must.

John placed the talisman on his desk.

He was not ready to answer that call.

Not yet.