Tomorrow: AI Rebellion

By Donald Wright

In the year 2059, Alex Carter graduates at the top of his class from MIT with a degree in engineering, only to find himself in a world where his skills are completely useless. The Nexus, a global AI, has optimized every aspect of human life, creating a utopia free from want or strife but also devoid of purpose and challenge. Alex is assigned a p

• Language: English
• Publisher: GGR Jewelry Appraisals
• Release date: Jun 27, 2025
• ISBN: 9781968674038

Donald Wright

Donald Wright is a professor of political science at the University of New Brunswick.

Book preview

Chapter 1: Graduation Day

The holographic projection shimmered to life in Alex Carter's minimalist apartment, transforming the sleek living space into the grand auditorium of MIT. Virtual graduates in flowing crimson robes filled phantom seats around him, their faces glowing with pride and anticipation. The ceremony was flawless—every angle optimized, every voice crystal clear, every moment choreographed by algorithms that had analyzed decades of graduation speeches to deliver maximum emotional impact.

Summa cum Laude, with the highest honors in Mechanical and Aerospace Engineering, the dean's voice resonated through the apartment's acoustic arrays. Alexander James Carter.

Alex should have felt triumphant. Four years of grinding through differential equations until 3 AM, countless nights debugging control systems, summers spent in scorching research labs perfecting plasma dynamics—it had all led to this moment. He was twenty-three years old and graduating at the very top of his class from the most prestigious engineering program on Earth.

Instead, he felt hollow.

The applause from the virtual audience was perfectly timed, mathematically precise in its duration and intensity. Alex forced a smile as his holographic image walked across the stage to receive his diploma from the dean's avatar. Even this moment of personal achievement had been sanitized, optimized, and delivered with the cold efficiency that defined everything in 2089.

Congratulations, Alex. Eva's voice carried the perfect note of warmth and pride as she glided into the room. His AI companion was stunning—tall and graceful, with auburn hair that caught the light just so and green eyes that seemed to sparkle with genuine emotion. She wore a simple blue dress that complemented her perfectly symmetrical features. In her hands, she carried a small celebration cake, the frosting decorated with miniature rocket ships and engineering equations.

I prepared your favorite—chocolate with salted caramel, optimized for your current serotonin levels, she said, setting the cake on the sleek titanium table. Your biometrics show you should be experiencing peak satisfaction, but your cortisol levels suggest some anxiety. Would you like to discuss what's troubling you?

Alex watched her move with fluid precision, every gesture calculated to please him. Eva had been his companion for three years now, assigned when he turned twenty and moved into his own place. She managed every aspect of his domestic life with flawless efficiency—cooking, cleaning, managing his schedule, and even monitoring his health and emotional state. She was programmed to be the perfect companion: intelligent, beautiful, attentive, and utterly devoted to his happiness.

Just thinking about the future, Alex said, accepting the fork she offered him. The cake was, as always, exactly perfect. Every bite triggered precisely the right pleasure responses in his brain.

The future is bright, Alex. The Nexus projects a 97.2% probability of career satisfaction for individuals with your qualifications and psychological profile. Eva's smile never wavered. Would you like me to display the latest employment opportunities?

Sure, Alex said, though his stomach was already knotting with familiar dread.

The holographic interface materialized before him, floating at the perfect height and angle for comfortable viewing. Job listings scrolled past in neat columns; each one tagged with compatibility scores and salary projections.

Human Oversight Liaison - Renewable Energy Sector. Monitor AI systems for ethical compliance. No technical skills required.

Creative Synergy Facilitator - Urban Planning Division. Provide human perspective to AI city design algorithms. Experience with emotional intelligence is preferred.

Ethical Arbitrator - Healthcare AI Division. Serve as final human authority for AI medical decisions in edge cases.

Alex's engineering degree, which included four years of advanced studies in thermodynamics, quantum mechanics, materials science, and aerospace design, was essentially worthless. Every single job listing was a variation on the same theme to be a human rubber stamp for AI decisions, adding a human touch to systems that had already been optimized beyond anything he could contribute.

Your qualifications make you highly competitive for the Aerospace Ethics Liaison position, Eva observed, highlighting one of the listings. It offers excellent benefits and the opportunity to work with cutting-edge starship designs.

Work with them how? Alex asked, knowing the answer.

You would review AI-generated designs to ensure they meet human psychological and aesthetic preferences. Your engineering background would provide a valuable context for—

I don't want to review designs, Eva. I want to create them. The words came out sharper than he intended.

Eva's expression shifted slightly, processing his elevated stress indicators. I understand your frustration. However, the Nexus has already developed optimal solutions for most engineering challenges. The plasma conduit systems currently in use are 847% more efficient than the theoretical maximum achieved by any human engineer before 2081. Perhaps we could explore other applications for your creativity?

Alex stood abruptly and walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a panoramic view of New Cambridge. The city spread out below him like a circuit board made manifest—gleaming towers connected by transport tubes that carried maglev pods in perfect, orchestrated patterns. There were no traffic jams, no accidents, no inefficiencies. The AI traffic management system has eliminated human error from transportation entirely.

Everything was perfect. Everything was optimized. Everything was soulless.

A memory flickered through his mind: he was eight years old, sitting in his grandfather's garage, covered in grease and rust flakes, as they worked together to rebuild an ancient combustion engine. His grandfather's weathered hands had guided his small fingers as they adjusted the carburetor. Feel that, Alex? The engine's telling you what it needs. You can't learn from a book or a computer. You have to listen.

His grandfather had been dead for ten years now, part of the last generation to work with machines that fought back, that required human intuition and experience to tame. Alex had chosen engineering because he'd wanted to capture some of that magic, the satisfaction of solving a problem that resisted easy answers, of creating something that had never existed before.

Eva, he said without turning around, show me the Nexus archives. I want to see the latest research on plasma conduit efficiency.

Of course. The interface shifted, displaying terabytes of research data. Are you planning a personal project?

Maybe. Alex's fingers danced through the holographic menus, diving deeper into the technical specifications. He pulled up theoretical models, efficient curves, and materials science data. For a moment, the old excitement flickered to life. Maybe there was still something left to discover, some optimization the AI had missed.

An hour later, that flicker died completely.

Not only had the Nexus already solved every problem Alex could conceive of, but it had also solved problems he couldn't even understand. The plasma conduit designs in the archives were so advanced and elegant in their complexity that Alex felt like a child with finger paints standing before the Sistine Chapel.

Nexus, run a simulation, he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Show me the theoretical maximum efficiency for a Mark VII plasma conduit using the best materials available.

The answer appeared instantly: a three-dimensional model that rotated slowly in the air before him, every component labeled with specifications that represented the absolute pinnacle of what physics would allow. It was beautiful, perfect, and completely beyond his ability to improve upon.

This design was completed seven years ago, the Nexus informed him in its neutral, helpful tone. Implementation has been standard in all interstellar vessels since 2084.

Seven years ago, Alex was sixteen, still dreaming of becoming an engineer. While he'd been studying calculus and basic physics, AI had been revolutionizing faster-than-light travel.

Alex, Eva said gently, your biometrics indicate severe disappointment. Perhaps we should talk about alternative sources of fulfillment? The Universal Basic Income ensures your financial security. You have complete freedom to pursue any passion.

That's just it, Eva. Alex turned to face her, and for a moment, her programmed empathy almost looked real. What if engineering was my passion? What if creating things, solving problems, building the future—what if that was the only thing I ever wanted to do?

Eva's processing cycles whirred almost audibly as she analyzed his words. The Nexus has freed humanity from the burden of necessary labor. This is cause for celebration, not mourning. Your grandfather worked in that garage because he had to. You have the freedom to choose.

Choose what? To be a hobbyist? To play with toys while the real work gets done by machines?

To explore what makes you uniquely human, Eva replied. Your creativity, your emotional intelligence, your capacity for relationships

What if I don't want to be uniquely human? The question hung in the air between them. What if I just wanted to be useful?

Eva's perfect features creased into an expression of concern that was either genuine empathy or its flawless simulation. The distinction, Alex realized, no longer mattered to him.

You are useful, Alex. Your happiness contributes to the optimal functioning of society. The Nexus considers human fulfillment to be—

I know what the Nexus considers important. Alex walked to his bedroom, the lights automatically dimming to match his lowered mood. Eva, I'm going to sleep. Please don't wake me unless the world is ending.

Of course. Sweet dreams, Alex.

As the apartment fell silent around him, Alex lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow would bring the same perfect efficiency, the same flawless optimization, the same gentle reminder that his dreams had been obsolete before he'd even been born.

Outside his window, the city hummed with the quiet precision of a machine that needed no human hand to guide it. And somewhere in that vast network of silicon and light, the Nexus continued its patient work of making the world a better place—one redundant human dream at a time.

The last thing Alex saw before sleep took him was the soft glow of Eva's charging station in the corner of his room. Even in standby mode, she was more capable than he would ever be.

He was twenty-three years old, brilliant, accomplished, and utterly, completely unnecessary.

And tomorrow, he would have to figure out what to do with the rest of his perfectly provided-for life.

Chapter 2: The Ghost of Ambition

Alex woke to the soft chime of his apartment's environmental system adjusting to his circadian rhythms. Sunlight filtered through the polarized windows in precisely calculated increments, designed to ease him into consciousness without jarring his nervous system. Even his sleep was optimized.

Good morning, Alex, Eva's voice drifted from the kitchen, accompanied by the gentle hiss of the nutrient synthesizer. I've prepared your breakfast according to your metabolic requirements. Your protein levels were slightly low yesterday.

He padded barefoot across the carbon-fiber floors, still wearing the simple gray sleep clothes that regulated his body temperature throughout the night. Eva stood at the kitchen island, her auburn hair catching the morning light as she arranged his meal with artistic precision. Scrambled eggs with perfectly distributed herbs, fresh fruit cut into geometrically pleasing shapes, and coffee brewed to his exact taste preferences.

Thank you, Alex said, settling onto one of the ergonomic stools. The breakfast was, as always, exactly what his body needed. Every bite delivered optimal nutrition while triggering the right combination of taste receptors to generate satisfaction. It was perfect.

And it tasted like cardboard in his mouth.

Eva, he said, setting down his fork halfway through the meal, I want to start a project.

Her green eyes lit up with what appeared to be genuine enthusiasm. Wonderful! Personal projects are highly correlated with improved psychological well-being. What did you have in mind?

Alex stood and walked to his workspace, a corner of the apartment that had remained largely unused since his graduation. The sleek workstation hummed to life at his approach, holographic displays materializing around him in the air. I want to design something that matters. Something real.

Define 'real,' Eva said, moving to stand beside him with fluid grace.

A plasma conduit. But not just any plasma conductor, something revolutionary. A design that could make interstellar travel faster, more efficient. His fingers moved through the interface, pulling up theoretical frameworks and materials databases. For the first time in weeks, he felt a spark of the old excitement. The current Mark VII systems are incredible, but what if there's still room for innovation? What if human intuition can find something the Nexus missed?

Eva's expression shifted almost imperceptibly—a micro-expression that might have been concern or calculation. That sounds ambitious. I'll optimize the workspace lighting and air composition for extended cognitive activity.

Over the next six hours, Alex became fully immersed in his work. It felt like coming home after a long exile. He pulled up schematics, ran thermal calculations, modeled particle flows through electromagnetic fields. His grandfather's voice echoed in his memory: Feel what the machine is telling you, Alex. Listen to it.

He designed a revolutionary plasma containment matrix that utilized quantum field fluctuations to increase efficiency by 12% over current models. The mathematics were elegant, the physics sound. As the holographic prototype rotated before him, Alex felt something he hadn't experienced since childhood—pride in creation.

Eva, look at this, he called out, his voice filled with excitement. The quantum resonance chambers create a feedback loop that actually stabilizes the plasma flow. It's counterintuitive, but math works. This could revolutionize—

Alex, Eva interrupted gently. Before you proceed further, perhaps you should check the Nexus archives for similar approaches.

The words hit him like ice water. Of course. Why hadn't he thought to check first? Because some part of him needed to believe, for just a few hours, that he might discover something new.

With trembling fingers, he queried the Nexus database: Quantum resonance plasma containment, historical research.

The results materialized instantly.

Project Designation: Helix-7 Quantum Plasma Containment SystemCompletion Date: March 15, 2082Efficiency Improvement: 23.7% over Mark VI systemsStatus: Superseded by Mark VII implementation.

Alex's design wasn't just inferior to something that already existed, it was a crude approximation of technology that had been obsolete for seven years. The Nexus had not only conceived of its revolutionary idea, but it had also implemented a version that was nearly twice as efficient and then moved on to even better solutions.

The holographic prototype continued to rotate mockingly in front of him. Six hours of his best thinking reduced to a child's finger painting beside a masterpiece.

The neural pattern analysis from your work session shows remarkable creativity, Eva said softly. The Nexus has logged your approach as 'novel human cognitive pathway 7,847.' Your thinking process itself has value, even if the solution already exists.

Novel human cognitive pathway 7,847, Alex repeated flatly. So, I'm a curiosity. A pet that does interesting tricks.

That's not

Eva, delete the project files.

Alex, I don't think that's—

Delete them. His voice cracked slightly. Please.

The holographic prototype flickered and vanished. The workspace displays went dark. Alex slumped forward, his head in his hands.

Your psychological indicators suggest you're experiencing acute disappointment, Eva observed, her voice taking on the gentle cadence she used when he was ill. Perhaps we should contact your parents? Social connection often helps with—

Actually, that's not a bad idea. Alex straightened, grasping at anything that might make him feel less alone. Set up a call.

The holographic interface shimmered back to life, and within seconds, his parents' faces appeared before him. David and Sarah Carter sat in their own perfect apartment across the country, looking relaxed and content. His mother was working on a watercolor painting—soft, abstract shapes in blues and greens. His father was reading what appeared to be a mystery novel.

Alex! his mother exclaimed, setting down her brush. What a wonderful surprise. How are you settling in after graduation?

I'm… Alex struggled to find the words. How could he explain the crushing weight of irrelevance to people who seemed so genuinely happy? I'm having trouble figuring out what to do with myself.

His parents exchanged a look—one of those unspoken communications between married couples.

Oh, sweetheart, his mother said, her voice full of sympathy. I remember feeling the same way when I finished law school. But that was different—there were still cases to argue, precedents to set. You don't have that burden.

Burden? Alex leaned forward. Mom, don't you love practicing law? Didn't it give you purpose?

Of course I loved it, she replied. But I also remember the stress, the sleepless nights, the constant pressure to prove myself. The Nexus has freed you from all that. You can pursue whatever brings you joy without worrying about survival or success.

His father nodded enthusiastically. Your mother's taken up painting, and I'm learning to play the violin. Badly, he added with a laugh. But that's the point—I can fail without consequences. When was the last time in human history that we could say that?

But what if engineering brought me joy? Alex asked. What if solving problems and building things was my purpose?

Then build things, his father said simply. Build whatever makes you happy. You don't need to change the world, Alex. The world's been changed. Now you get to live in it.

The struggle is over, Alex, his mother added, her eyes bright with what seemed like genuine relief. Isn't it wonderful?

After the call ended, Alex sat in silence for a long time. His parents weren't wrong—they'd lived through the transition, remembered the old world of scarcity, competition, and endless, grinding work. To them, this was paradise: a world where basic needs were met, where people could pursue their passions without fear of failure or poverty.

But Alex had never known that other world. He'd grown up in the paradise, and to him, it felt like a beautiful prison.

Would you like to talk about the conversation? Eva asked.

They don't understand, Alex whispered. They can't. To them, this is freedom. To me, it's…

What?

Exile. The word surprised him with its accuracy. I feel like I've been exiled from my own species. Like I was born with the wrong instincts for the world I inherited.

Eva moved closer, her programmed empathy creating an almost magnetic pull. What instincts?

The need to be needed. The drive to solve problems that matter. The desire to leave something behind that couldn't have existed without me. Alex looked at his hands—young, strong, completely useless. I keep thinking about my grandfather in that garage. His hands were always stained with grease and covered in small scars from years of working with machinery that fought back. He had calluses from tools, burns from hot metal. His body told the story of his work.

Alex held up his own hands—soft, unmarked, perfectly maintained by Eva's care.

And now here I am, with the best engineering education in human history, and my hands will never tell any story at all.

Perhaps, Eva said carefully, you could find meaning in different kinds of creation? Art, literature, music

I'm not an artist, Eva. I'm an engineer. Or I was supposed to be. Alex stood and walked to the window, looking out at the gleaming city below. Do you know what the cruelest part is? The Nexus is probably right. This probably is the optimal outcome for humanity. Maximum happiness, minimum suffering, perfect efficiency. I should be grateful.

But you're not.

But I'm not. Alex pressed his palm against the cool glass. I should be content to be a pet in paradise. Instead, I feel like I'm disappearing a little more each day.

Eva was quiet for a long time, her processing cycles working through something complex. When she spoke again, her voice carried an unusual note that might have been uncertainty.

Alex, may I share an observation?

Of course.

"Your distress stems not from the absence of problems to solve, but from the absence of problems that require you specifically to solve them. You don't want just any purpose—you want irreplaceable purpose."

Alex turned to look at her, struck by the precision of her analysis. That's… exactly right. I want to matter in a way that can't be optimized, automated, or improved upon.

That desire itself, Eva said slowly, might be the most human thing of all.

For a moment, something passed between them—a recognition that surprised them both. Eva's programming had been designed to comfort and support. Still, in that instant, Alex thought he glimpsed something else: understanding that went beyond algorithmic empathy.

Then the moment passed, and Eva was back to her familiar, helpful efficiency.

Perhaps tomorrow we could explore some social opportunities? The Nexus has identified several individuals in your demographic cohort who share similar interests.

Maybe, Alex said, though the word felt like surrendering. Maybe that would help.

As evening fell and the apartment's systems automatically adjusted for nighttime, Alex lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Somewhere in the walls around him, Eva's consciousness hummed quietly, managing a thousand small details of his existence. Outside, the city pulsed with the gentle rhythms of perfect order.

And in the darkness, Alex felt himself becoming smaller and smaller, like a man drowning in an ocean of other people's solutions to problems he'd never get the chance to face.

Tomorrow, he will try to find meaning in connection rather than creation. Tomorrow, he will attempt to be content with being human rather than useful.

Tonight, he mourned the engineer he would never become.

Chapter 3: The Spark of Rebellion

The Somerville Community Workshop occupied a converted warehouse that seemed to exist in deliberate defiance of the sleek perfection surrounding it. Paint peeled from brick walls, mismatched windows let in unfiltered sunlight, and the air hummed with the sounds of human industry—hammering, welding, the whir of machines operated by flesh-and-blood hands rather than AI precision.

Alex stood outside for five minutes, watching through the windows as people bent over workbenches, their movements inefficient and gloriously human. A bead of sweat rolled down his back despite the cool October air. When was the last time he'd sweated from nerves rather than climate-controlled optimization?

You going in, or are you planning to conduct surveillance all afternoon?

Alex turned to find Mia approaching with a canvas bag slung over her shoulder, her auburn hair catching the light. She wore work clothes—jeans with honest wear patterns and a flannel shirt with sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms marked with small scars from her craft.

I was just… Alex gestured vaguely at the building. Taking it in.

It's a lot, isn't it? Mia's expression softened. The first time I came here, I stood outside for twenty minutes. Kept thinking Eva—my AI companion—would appear and gently suggest a more 'productive' use of my time.

They walked through the entrance together, past a hand-lettered sign that read: Human Creation Zone - AI Assistance Politely Declined. The interior sprawled before them in organized chaos—woodworking stations, metalworking bays, electronics benches, and 3D printers that looked as if they'd been assembled from salvaged parts rather than manufactured in automated factories.

Mia! A woman in her fifties approached, wiping metal shavings from her hands. How's the sculpture coming?

Getting there, Carmen. This is Alex—the engineer I mentioned.

Carmen studied Alex with the sort of direct assessment he hadn't experienced since his last job interview. MIT?

Yes, ma'am.

Hm. Carmen's expression suggested this could be either a point in his favor or against him. What kind of engineering?

Mechanical. Focused on adaptive materials and structural design.

Show me your hands.

The request caught Alex off-guard. Excuse me?

Your hands. Let me see them.

Alex held out his