The Last Human Leader

1. A Cold Meeting

Night was falling over Baylight City, but Claire remained at her desk. The office was eerily quiet, save for the low hum of machines, tireless in their work. The ambient glow from monitors cast pale reflections on empty desks, reminders of a team that had once been full of human faces.

She glanced at the clock on her screen: 11/17/35, 5:28 PM. She reached for her coat, ready to leave, when Athena's call appeared on her monitor.

Sighing, Claire sank back into her chair. She had no plans for the evening, so what was a few more minutes? She clicked to answer.

"Good evening, Athena. What's up?"

"Good evening, Claire," Athena's voice replied, impeccably smooth yet slightly detached. "I noticed you were still logged in, so I thought it might be a good time to share my weekly automation report. Is now convenient?"

"Of course," Claire replied, leaning back with a faint smirk. "I've been waiting for it all day — go ahead."

"I've analyzed the latest data," Athena began, her tone steady, with an almost imperceptible hint of pride. "Customer service is now 97% automated. Departmental administrative tasks are down by 60%. Content creation efficiency has increased by 300%, and marketing campaign returns are up nearly 200%."

"That's fantastic," Claire said, leaning back slightly. "Athena, those numbers are impressive. Great work."

The report left Claire impressed. As the Chief Marketing Officer of NeuraCorp, she managed a team of ten: two humans and eight agents. Each AI agents had a specialized function — one for text content, another for imagery, one for video production, several for customer service, and a massive, interconnected system for digital marketing. The humans, Bao and Tiffany, handled clients & partners relations and approved the AIs' work. Together, the trio used AI-generated insights to strategize and make decisions.

Athena was the newest addition to her team: an AI analyst tasked with monitoring the department's overall efficiency. Still in training, Athena's performance was under scrutiny. If it proved successful, Athena wouldn't just oversee the marketing department but the entire company.

"Thank you," Athena replied, her tone calm but carrying the faintest echo of satisfaction. "The results are encouraging, but I believe we can achieve even greater efficiency."

"Really?" Claire's curiosity was piqued. Athena had already an uncanny ability to find new ways to optimize performance — another reason the agent was one of the department's boldest recent investment. "What's your plan?"

Athena paused, as if considering the delivery of her next statement. "Based on my analysis," she began, "I recommend eliminating two additional positions, bringing the department to full automation. According to my calculations, 100% of commercial and partnership interactions are already handled effectively by automated systems. Decision-making and strategy could be managed solely by you."

The words hung in the air, clinical and cold. Then Athena added, "I think we should proceed with further staff reductions."

Claire's hand froze mid-motion, gripping the edge of her desk. The analysis was precise, logical, and devoid of emotion. Yet the implications hit like a tidal wave.

She felt the air grow heavier, her thoughts racing in a dozen directions. Two more positions gone? Full automation?

"Thank you, Athena," she said finally, forcing an even tone. "Please send me the full report and recommendations — I'll take a closer look later."

"Of course," Athena replied, as poised as ever. "Good evening, Claire."

The call ended with a soft chime. For a long moment, Claire remained still, staring at the glowing monitor as Athena's words replayed in her mind. Two more positions. Full automation. The future was moving faster than she'd ever anticipated, and she wasn't sure where it was all heading — only that fewer and fewer hands would be needed to build it, leaving most to simply watch from the sidelines.

As Claire stepped out into the neon-lit streets of Baylight City, a wave of nostalgia washed over her. The city used to feel alive, bursting with the energy of innovation and ambition. Now, its perfection seemed clinical — automated delivery drones whirred overhead, their shadows fleeting across sidewalks almost devoid of human presence. Each step echoed faintly, a reminder of how quiet the world had become.

She passed a café where she'd once spent hours brainstorming with colleagues, now entirely replaced by robots and self-service kiosks. A part of her marveled at the efficiency, but another part ached for the connection that had been lost. The promise of the future had turned into something cold, precise, and hollow.

Athena's words echoed in her mind: We should proceed with further staff reductions.

She had spent a decade climbing the ranks at NeuraCorp, each step hard-won in an environment that was already shifting toward automation. The change had started under her predecessor, hailed as "the future of work." Back then, she'd worried about her own job. Now, as CMO, she'd come to accept the harsh truth: machines were cheaper, faster, and better.

Even Bao and Tiffany, the last two human members of her team, spent most of their time validating agents' output and handling the few remaining human-facing tasks. Bao often joked they were more "AI curators" than employees. Claire used to laugh along, but now the joke felt too close to reality.

As she walked, her eyes caught the faint glow of a recruitment ad on a nearby building. It was for a robotics company specializing in humanoid caregivers. The holographic display showed a lifelike nursebot gently assisting an elderly woman. The tagline read: "Empathy that never tires."

Claire shivered and pulled her coat tighter.

If a machine could replace them, she thought, how long before one replaces me?