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Everyone gets to live to 100

Everyone gets to live to 100.

That’s what the teachers at our old school used to go on about all the time.

They were all robots of course. So was the head, the cleaners, support staff and the janitors.

Nearly every job is done by intelligent robots these days.

Warehouse, retail, administration, construction, mechanics, factory, health, social care, driving. Even flipping the burgers at the fast food outlets at Bobby’s Buzzin Burgers, and their rivals Burger Queen, is done by robots.

You name it, a robot does it.

The robots did all the research and investigations.

The robots wrote all the books, painted all the pictures, took all the photographs, performed all the plays, played all the music. All the reviews were done by robots. The robots even wrote all the rejection letters.

Good job the robot writers had no feelings.

This had a major impact on our schooling. In the old days school prepared us for a life of working in an industrialised economy. With the robots doing nearly everything that was all gone.

Now school prepares us for a lifetime of not working in a post industrial society.

Education’s most important function was to prepare us for a lifetime of unemployment and boredom. To give us coping mechanisms so we wouldn’t suffer mentally or get angry and harm others or ourselves.

They called it, Creative life skills.

That meant the curriculum had to be different.

Out went Maths, English and French.

What was the point of all that when the machines did everything for us?

No, if I remember my final year at Bobby’s Buzzin Burgers High, I studied things like making lists, putting fuzzy stickers onto things, posing, making lists, moving things around the room, making more lists, rhythmic jumping, bubble studies, creative indolence, app appreciation, pondering with purpose and coping with self loathing. Oh and Mime, but I hated that.

Did I mention making lists?

I remember saying to my robot teacher, ‘How’s all this going to get me a job?’

The robot replied, ‘A job? Why there is very little chance that someone like you, or anyone in this class, or this school for that matter, is ever going to get a job. We’re just trying to give you something to occupy your time. Hopefully when you leave school you’ll be able to do that for yourself.’

I think I heard the robot teacher chuckle after it told me that. It must have been one of those teacher models that had a sarcastic wit chip added.

I asked the robot teacher, ‘What was the point of being a human?’

I think it was laughing even louder after I said that.

I cursed my lack of foresight. In year nine we were given the opportunity to focus on the two areas left open to human work. Handyperson or Comedy. But I wasn’t very handy or funny.

No one was at our school.

On my final day the robot head wished us all well in the active pursuit of lifelong idleness and indolence.

They gave me a leaving certificate. It listed my achievements. There weren’t many. It said I was well groomed, like I was a horse, and it said I showed a keen interest in mime. That was a load of rubbish.

It misspelt my name.

Said I was ‘hard working and reliable’ as though I was a sheep dog. That was also done by robots in those days.

The letter wouldn’t fit in the envelope provided. That irritated me for years.

It was like I didn’t matter, and maybe I didn’t in this world run by robots, good job they didn’t teach me anything about critical thinking or else that would have scarred me for life.

We were given a book as a leaving present. Written by a robot of course, From the cradle to the couch – welcome to your life.

If we’d been taught to read I could have read it, but instead I just looked at the pictures.

I thought, are they having a bloody laugh? But realised that robots had no sense of humour or irony.

I wondered if the robots were being ironic, but as school had drummed out any independent capacity for analytical thinking I was unable to come to a conclusion.

I walked past the ‘skool’ gates, and cursed that it no longer felt important for kids to be able to spell. The robots did that as well.

And that was that, my school life finished.

I didn’t look back, just carried on walking and soon I was home in the Betty Ford 2003 block of flats , number 12701.

I have been there ever since.

27 years and I’ve not been out of the flat once, there’s no point as the robots do everything.

That robot teacher was right. I’d never get a job. Just like everyone else in our year. Just like nearly everyone else who went to our skool.

I spend my time looking at screens, playing games and posing for selfies, making lists, moving things around the room, making lists and watching bubbles.

Did I forget to mention making lists? I’m good at making lists.

It’s a world run by robots.

The health service is run by robots. To give them their due the robots do a good job keeping us humans living a lot longer.

It’s great that I’ve got more time to make more lists. I now have time to make lists of my favourite lists.

Nearly all of us can expect to live till at least 100.

In this society, all that I have to look forward to is living to 100.

And then I can receive another certificate from the robots, delivered by the robots to congratulate me on reaching 100. I only hope this time they get my name right and the certificate fits the envelope.

Got to look on the bright side, at least I don’t have to do mime anymore.

Must be going now. The robot speaker has just reminded me that there is an interesting bubble appearing soon on the wall screen for me to watch.