Tom didn't understand. All the people were gone.
It took days before Tom noticed. He was used to being alone. He'd lived mostly by himself for years. People rarely came around. He rarely went out. It took months before he fully comprehended the amazing complete disappearance
of everyone else.
The other reason he took so long to notice
was societal.
The technological transformation of the past decades had made isolation ever easier. Frivolities, necessities, and everything else was only a call away, including delivery to your door. All of which was supplied by diligent millions of digitally controlled service robots.
No one human really needed any other human.
Tom looked through his digital devices for an explanation. There were people on the TV and people on the internet. Surely some newscast would report on what happened. Eventually he realized the people on the screen were fantoms, artifacts of automatically recycled shows from past decades up, to yesterday.
Everyone was gone, but they were still talking.
The fantoms talked, and people who used to talk out loud still talked inside his head. Internal dialogue never stops. Countless stories and conversations rotated endlessly with only coincidental connection. Each flowing senselessly into the next.
Tom, for no particular reason, thought of Phil.
He could hear a line Phil used on pretty girls at house-parties. When they asked what he did for a living, he'd tell them he was a drug-dealer. After the look of alarm on their face, he'd confess he was really a pharmacist.
Phil thought the line would make the girls think him clever and interesting. Some did.
There were a lot of variants on Phil's line by a lot
of other would-be girl-chasers Tom had heard most of the lines. So had the girls.
Tom remembered more social situations than he
had ever been a part of. He'd always been a loner, but he listened to the stories of those who were not loners. These people still talked in his head. They told him several lifetimes of stories - over and over.
Considering all that chatter in his head, Tom wondered how different life without people would be.
He might miss hearing new stories, on the other hand, most of the stories he'd already heard weren't new.
He remembered a line from Bob Dylan, "How do I get out'a goin' through all these things twice"?
Well that was no longer a problem.
Was there a problem?
Everyone but Tom was gone, but everything Tom needed was still around. For decades now nuclear power plants supplied all the energy needed for electricity. The nuclear plants along with everything else was managed
by service robots.
Whatever Tom needed was brought to his door. Robots delivered groceries. Robots mowed the grass. Robots paved the roads. Robots did the snow-plowing. Robots did everything people used to do.
Because of this, the only business done in Cities was nightclubs and entertainment. There hadn't been any other reason to go downtown for a long time. There hadn't been much reason to go anywhere. Tom paid for his goods and services with his credit card. Paper money was history.
Tom wondered how long this could go on with only him and robots?
Nothing to do but wait and see.
Tom was a Robertson Caruso, marooned on a digital island. Waves of algorithms, electronics, and robots lapped ashore his island automatically. Tom wondered if he would miss people. His home without people seemed the same. The greenery and animals that charmed Tom with their daily antics were still there. Would that that be enough?
Tom had long been mystified by the digital world around him. He had no idea how his credit card worked. All Tom really knew about his digital accessories were the annoying passwords and codes.
He supposed it was all managed by enigmatic algorithms, electronics, and robots.
Could the digital machinery work without people? Could it work forever?
Weeks and months went by, nothing changed but the weather. Not so different from all the weeks and months that had passed before. Tom hadn't much trouble adjusting to a world without people. He was habituated to it by his long experience as a loner. His retirement solitude was nearly the same as a world without people.
Tom was distracted by the falling rain. The storm was getting stronger. Thunder and lightning raged. The wind was bending the tallest trees. None of that troubled Tom, until the electricity went off. Two hours later the electricity came on again.
The service-repair robots were on the job as usual. Still, just in case, Tom ordered several cartons of long-storage foodstuffs, several cases of bottled water, beer, and an additional case of candles. You know, Just in case.
As an afterthought he also ordered a pizza.
The robots stacked the supplies in the living room. They credited Tom's card with payment and left. Tom served himself a slice of pizza and cracked open a fresh beer.
The storm outside settled into a gentle rain.
Tom settled-in, too. Life marooned on an island wasn't so bad. In fact it was a life he was already accustomed to.
Tom reckoned he might die of old age before the algorithms, electronics, and robots failed.
He did have one worry though. Now that there
was no one except Tom to order anything, how would
the algorithms react? If the only commerce in the word
was serving Tom would that be enough to keep the system going?
We'll see, he said to himself.
Damn, that's good pizza.