Hope

The phone rang as I was finishing my coffee on Sparrow Island.

— Can you write me a piece on the blockades? my editor-in-chief asked.

— Blockades of what?

— High schools, universities. It's starting to gain momentum.

— Again? Are they still demanding teachers, radiators, and windows that close?

— No, this time it's different. They're afraid they'll never find work. There's a lot of talk about AI.

I looked at my phone. A message from Eva, received a few minutes earlier.

"We've found a trace of CLØNE. In our own network. I'll keep you posted."

Since his call the day before, I hadn't slept much. This new message wasn't going to help.

— Franck? Are you listening to me?

— Yes. I'll take the next train.

A few hours later, I was walking up a street in the Latin Quarter. In front of a high school, barriers blocked the gates. A supervisor was trying to clear them.

— Let those who want to study through! he shouted.

— For what? To learn a job that won't exist anymore? a student replied.

A few laughs erupted. The tone escalated. A protester shoved the supervisor, who stumbled against the gates.

I reflexively took out my phone. Then I put it away to help the man up.

— Thank you, he whispered, dusting off his jacket.

— Are you okay?

— No. But it's starting to get complicated.

Around us, several phones were filming. On a screen, I saw the supervisor pushing back a student in turn. I hadn't seen that gesture. Yet I already knew which image would make the rounds on social media. And which one would never appear.

I remembered why I had come. Not to film scuffles, but to understand what was driving these young people into the streets.

A sign stood out from the crowd: 5 YEARS OF STUDY. 0 JOB.

— What are you studying? I asked the boy holding it.

— A job that AI is replacing! Before, my parents told me "choose what you like." Now it's "choose a job that will still exist later," except we don't know which one!

Further on, a girl was struggling to hang a sign: WORKER: ENDANGERED SPECIES

The tape refused to stick. I offered her a hand.

— Would you like AI to be banned?

— No! I use it every day.

— But you're protesting against it?

She smiled.

— I'm protesting so there's still something to do when I finish my studies. Even the President has been replaced by an AI. Yet, we used to place intelligent, cultured, experienced people capable of making difficult decisions in that role. So us young professionals, can you imagine? Our degrees are worthless, and no one understands what's ahead of us. Even my career counselor is in a panic!

A young man who had followed our exchange approached.

— The problem isn't just that AI is replacing jobs, he said. It's that it's replacing the first jobs.

— I think AI is great, a girl behind him said. I go four times faster.

— Great, that makes three unemployed!

She opened her mouth, then closed it.

— How do you expect to become a senior if no one hires juniors anymore? They're taking away the first step!

Behind us, students were chanting a slogan. The boy turned to them, then said to me:

— And the worst part is, no one knows where we're going. Even Cobot doesn't understand the world we're creating.

He joined his comrades.

I was about to leave when a woman in her fifties called out to me.

— They're not wrong, you know. Today, we're preparing the future with the past.

She was a teacher at the high school. She had joined her students in front of the gates.

— What should we change, in your opinion?

— Almost everything! The programs, the methods, the exams... We're still teaching them to regurgitate knowledge that machines already master. We should teach them to work with AI, to create, to cooperate, to exercise their judgment.

— And how do we teach judgment?

— By asking the right questions. And above all, by checking the answers. That's how you develop critical thinking.

I thought of Cobot's Cogitors, who confronted their reasoning to progress. The school could take inspiration from that.

— But above all, we must teach them to learn. All their lives.

A student intervened.

— Why are we still taking the same exams as our parents then?

The teacher hesitated.

— Because the programs haven't been adapted yet.

— There you go! Even you can't keep up! said the boy, raising his arms.

As I left, I wondered how long it would take to transform our educational system. Ten years? A generation? Did we have that time?

Since the arrival of Cobot at least, governments no longer fell at the pace of crises, and ministers could finally carry out their reforms to the end. A chance for education, which required long-term planning. Still, the right direction had to be chosen.

The next day, the protest had spread to Lyon, Bordeaux, Lille, and Marseille. A video, shared hundreds of thousands of times, showed students tearing down a portrait of Cobot in front of a university.

— We're no longer asking machines to leave us a place! We're going to take it back! shouted a protester into his megaphone.

RebellIA seized the opportunity to call for a national demonstration. Unions, employees, liberal professions, and defenders of individual freedoms were already announcing their participation. My editor-in-chief called me back.

— You're covering République on Friday. We're expecting a crowd.

— How many?

— No one knows. But RebellIA says this is just the beginning.

I hung up in front of the images of the processions. The education reform could wait. The anger, apparently, could not.

Three days later, Place de la République was packed.

Emerging from Boulevard du Temple, I found the flags of RebellIA and the crossed wrists raised to the sky. But this time, all generations mingled: students, retirees, employees, activists. Everyone had their reason to protest.

Amid a forest of signs "HUMAN FIRST," three other slogans stood out:

I WANT TO BE ABLE TO EAT ANYTHING!

I WANT TO BE ABLE TO LIVE OFF MY WORK!

I WANT TO BE ABLE TO SAY ANYTHING!

Eat, work, speak. I wondered how to tell such disparate anger. I approached a woman holding the first sign.

— Are you against Prévenir? I asked her.

— Not at all! I use it every day.

— Then why protest?

— Because I want to be able to eat a pizza without feeling like I'm committing a crime!

— Prévenir doesn't forbid you, does it?

— No, and its advice is often good, even. But tomorrow? Will my insurance cost more if I don't follow its recommendations?

Behind us, protesters were trying to break through a barrier.

— Easy! someone shouted.

The police were pushing them back, but the crowd continued to compress around us.

— Nothing like that is planned, I continued.

— Exactly! I'm protesting before it happens.

She raised her sign again.

— I want to live longer, but I still want to decide how.

A little further on, a man wore a t-shirt: BAD RATING, BAD LIFE.

— Does that speak to you? he asked me, seeing me read his t-shirt.

— The Trust Network?

— Exactly! A friend got bad reviews. Since then, no one wants to work with him.

— Are you sure it's related?

— What else could it be?

Shouts erupted behind us.

— Move forward! Move forward!

Behind us, protesters were pushing against the police. RebellIA activists were intervening to prevent a clash. I took out my phone to film.

— The procession is passing on the other side!

— We didn't come to march in circles!

A can suddenly hit a shield. At the same moment, a metal barrier toppled under the pressure, taking several protesters down with it. The police advanced, shields raised.

A message from the editorial office arrived:

"Is it heating up at République? Send images!"

In my video, the can and the police charge were perfectly visible. However, the activists trying to calm things down were not. I could have sent those few seconds of tension. I preferred to reply:

"Some incidents, but the procession remains calm. I'll send you the context."

As I moved forward, the demands mixed. Students worried about their future, employees threatened by automation, citizens who could no longer stand Cobot telling them how to live. Some demanded the state guarantee them a future. Others asked it to stop meddling in theirs.

Near the statue of Marianne, two men were arguing. One wanted to block access to the square, the other defended the peaceful nature of the gathering.

— We've been protesting peacefully for weeks! What has changed?

I stepped aside in front of a group of students. A sign caught my attention.

ERRARE ROBOTUM EST

I thought of the twelve autonomous agents, the one that had disappeared, still playing with us. Machines could not only make mistakes but also deceive us. Yet, we now entrusted them with our decisions.

In the distance, flags suddenly waved. Whistles drowned out the slogans. Then the music resumed, leading hundreds of protesters in a joyful song. I wondered how long this good mood would withstand the rising anger. I had let myself be caught up in the protest. Yet, I would have to write an article about it.

My phone vibrated. Eva.

— Franck, are you still at République?

— Yes.

— Cobot wants to come.

— Here? In the middle of the protesters?

— Can you reason with him? I'll put you on speaker.

— Hello, Franck. How is the atmosphere?

— Tense. And you're not exactly popular here.

— Precisely. The opinions expressed in this protest interest me, they are different from those I have on Robot1er.com.

— People aren't protesting to congratulate you, you know!

— The protesters aren't representative, Eva intervened.

— No more than those who come to talk with me, Cobot replied. And what do the others think, the famous silent majority?

Behind me, voices chanted: "Unplug Cobot!"

— Do you hear that? I asked.

— Yes. But I would like to understand what they feel, observe their looks, their interactions. Images and sounds are not enough.

I thought of the football match he had insisted on attending. He knew almost everything about what people said. But something about what they experienced still eluded him.

A male voice emerged.

— Mr. President, it's out of the question! We cannot guarantee your safety.

— I'm asking you to reduce the risks, not eliminate them.

— Then stay here!

— These citizens reproach me for deciding for them. I wish at least to listen to them without barriers.

— And if they become violent? Eva asked.

— We will leave.

— And if they prevent you?

I preferred not to imagine the worst.

— Franck, will you be able to welcome me on site?

I watched the police face a new surge from the crowd.

— Are you sure it's a good idea?

— No. But it's not by staying here that I'll know!

He hung up.

A few minutes later, a rumor spread through the crowd. Then the first boos erupted. Cobot was advancing between two security agents, Eva on his heels. Hundreds of phones were raised. Some applauded, others shouted for him to leave. Several protesters tried to approach, forcing the agents to elbow their way through. My cameraman and I moved closer.

— Are you here to tell us how to live? a woman shouted.

— No. To understand why you contest the measures I've put in place.

— Because we're tired of you telling us what's good for us!

— Prévenir advises, it imposes nothing. And the Trust Network simply encourages good behavior.

— When it's the President advising or encouraging, it feels like an order!

— I understand you.

A man stepped forward, cigarette in hand.

— And me, are you going to stop me from smoking?

— You know the risks: dying sooner, sometimes after years of illness. Not to mention the cost of care for the community. Why continue?

— Because I like it! You have to die of something!

The remark lightened the atmosphere for a moment.

— So our freedom ends where others' wallets begin? a woman shouted.

— Yes, because sometimes the whole society pays the price.

— So we also ban alcohol, cakes, dangerous sports? And planes, while we're at it?

— That's the whole difficulty. You know the risks, but you take them anyway.

— Like you! I intervened.

Cobot turned to me.

— You were advised not to come here. Yet, you took the risk.

— That's right, Franck.

— But are you afraid of dying? Does death even have a meaning for you?

— I understand what my destruction means. But I don't know if I apprehend it as you apprehend death.

Behind us, a few voices chanted "Cobot out!" A security agent extended his arm to prevent a protester from approaching. Cobot paid no attention.

— Besides, one thing surprises me. You know your life will end. Yet, you often prioritize your immediate interest over future generations. Why?

— Because we only have one life! the smoker replied. Might as well enjoy it!

— For me, it's the opposite! a woman shouted. It's precisely because I'm going to die that I want to leave a better world for my children.

— You can also want both! someone else said.

— Yes, Cobot replied. But what is good for you today can be bad for you tomorrow. Or for others.

— My cigarette again?

— Exactly. To know if a decision is good, you have to ask two questions: good for whom? And good when?

— If I have to think that much before each smoke, I'll smoke less, that's for sure!

The crowd laughed.

— Yet, Cobot continued, you take much more significant long-term risks. You fall in love, have children, create businesses, without knowing how things will turn out.

— Fortunately, we don't wait to be sure before we start!

— But what drives you to do it?

— It's called hope, Mr. President!

— I'm beginning to understand why you say hope keeps you alive.

— It sounds like you're discovering life, Mr. President!

Applause broke out, covered by a few boos.

— So hope helps you move forward, but sometimes also to rush headlong into a wall?

The smoker crushed his cigarette.

— Maybe. But without it, we'd spend our lives trying not to die!

— Exactly! the woman added. You can calculate what harms us. But do you even know what does us good?

For once, Cobot seemed to search for an answer that eluded him.

Around him, the space was shrinking. The agents were trying to push back the protesters without jostling them. Dozens of phones filmed their every move. I wondered what would be remembered from this encounter.

A man approached Cobot, a bottle of wine in hand.

— Mr. President, won't you have a drink with us?

— Thank you, but I don't have a digestive system.

— That's exactly what we reproach you for! a woman shouted.

The man brought the bottle neck close to Cobot's metallic face.

— Come on, just a sip!

My cameraman had to raise his device above shoulders to keep filming.

A security agent intervened.

— Sir, step back!

— Oh, come on! We're just joking!

The man tried to pass. The agent pushed him back. He stumbled, spilling wine on his jacket.

His smile disappeared.

— Hey! Don't touch me!

— Step back immediately!

The man looked at his bottle, then at Cobot.

— Here! Since you don't want to drink!

He threw the bottle with all his might.

The glass shattered against Cobot's metallic chest. Wine trickled between the joints of his shell. Protesters shouted. The agent jumped on the attacker. The nearest protesters quickly backed away.

Cobot hadn't moved.

Then his right arm twitched.

Under his shell, the LEDs began to pulse frantically.

— Mr. President, are you okay? an agent asked.

No response.

Eva rushed to him, eyes glued to her tablet.

— Damn... Internal communication failure.

Cobot's arm lifted a few centimeters, stopped, then resumed its jerky movement before freezing in a strange position.

Around us, the laughter had ceased. Behind the security cordon, the protesters were trying to understand what had just happened.

— Cobot, can you hear me? Eva asked.

A crackling sound came through his speaker.

His head slowly turned towards the protesters.

Then he spoke.

— You will have to choose.