Ian sits and watches, that's the job. Observe and be ready, although ready for what is unspecified. What is clear though, is that this is the punishment for cybercrime. Look, but don't touch. His frustration makes him ache with anger, creating a constant need to act, held at bay because to do so would only extend his sentence or worse still, he'd be sent to solitary. It's why he crashes into bed the moment he arrives home after each twelve-hour shift. It's not a real job. It's a form of torture, the only benefit being that it appeases the concerns of the public who rely on the machines he watches.

However, today there's a different vibe in the air, there's something undefined hanging about the periphery of the automated city. He leans forward, engaged in his work for the first time ever, and attempts to understand the glitches on the screens in front of him. And then, it all breaks loose and he shoots back in his chair, instinctively distancing himself.

Down at street level, a woman and her small child step on to the road-crossing when the green light appears, but jump back as an autocar obeys its own green light and drives forward. The lights that control the traffic are moving through their standard sequence so rapidly that all sensible pedestrian traffic has come to a halt.

It is chaos.

An altercation breaks out between two middle-aged men who, until a few moments ago, had been happily talking while the one behind the counter wrapped the present for the other's wife. Voices are now raised. Aggressive body stances are taken. The pink bow from the neatly wrapped parcel lies on the counter. Each man has a hold of the gift, pulling it towards him. Verbal abuse is hurled, accusations of a secondary app hacking the exchange rate their primary apps have agreed on. Inflammatory language, such as 'capitalist' and 'script diddler' are being bandied about, not only by the men but the queue behind them. Someone alerts the automated police, but there's no response. They can't even raise the private police bots.

In the personal mobility lanes where the cycles and scooters would normally roam freely, people are kicking and cursing their hired transport as it refuses to budge or let them end their journey with the swipe of their app.

Those outside the library have become a mob. The doors are closed. The windows shuttered. From inside there are shouts, pleading to be let out. While the call outside is for the opposite, shouts to be let in. Fists bang on every door and window. Thumbs swipe phones manically, as if the very screens themselves are to blame for the lockout. Across the city, all public buildings have suddenly and inexplicably closed themselves. It's as if Christmas day has come early. Doctor surgeries, dentists and hospitals are shut. Public transport has firmly locked its doors, leaving some without a way to get home and, more dramatically, imprisoning its passengers. Crammed into airless dark underground trains, trapped commuters sob.

All these malfunctions happen simultaneously across the city, with no warning and no exceptions.

What can Ian do? He has no idea. No training of any substance, simply the instruction to keep an eye on the machines. The algorithm that runs his probation did add that, if anything happens he has to inform the police who, naturally, are automated too. Before he can react, the machines indicate that they have already informed the necessary authorities. He remains redundant, deliberately surplus to requirement.

*

"What is it we want for this city?" whispers Felix, in as calm and soothing voice that he can.

"When do we want it?" shouts Tessa, in rhythmic response.

"Have you been inside those old documentaries again?"

Tessa laughs. "Sure have."

Felix is determined to inject the calmness he developed while meditating in the arctic mountains. Otherwise, the fasting, the expense, the hours of silence were all for nothing. He knows what's best for his native land, his home city. He slides his fingers into the soil of their rooftop retreat and lets the sensual touch of the earth travel up his skin and across his body. He closes his eyes momentarily and breathes, smiling in the knowledge that his ability to rise above the humdrum increases every day. That, and his tolerance of the humans, who ceaselessly annoy him. His determination to usher in a new collaboration between human and machine, each playing to their strengths, is steadfast. They must be made to see it. His soul is caked in frustration with his fellow humans. They do not comprehend the simple fact that they must not intervene in the running of the city, they must allow the machines to mature. He finds it painfully difficult too, but he understands that years of training are at stake, and human fiddling would destroy the city's coming of age.

"Let's talk then," says Tessa, interrupting his thoughts. "We can shape this city into whatever we want."

"That's what I said. This city…" He draws on his inner peace and clenches his jaw in his mind's eye, showing no outward signs at all. "Isn't it wonderful?" he says, diverting their attention to the view across the skyline.

"Breathe," he chants.

Fluttering in the gentle breeze, the purple-black grass of their garden indicates a high pollen count. Felix presses his right wrist to release the day's second dose of his choreographed cocktail of drugs, his concession to being back in the city. "Let's talk," he says, not letting Tessa's obvious frustration at the long pause affect his mood or distract him from their higher purpose. "First, we should contemplate the life-giving nature of our surroundings. Lovingly breathe in the air. Look closely at the leaves on the trees. Listen carefully to the bees and the hoverflies. The luxury is ours. We should indulge."

"And then talk," adds Tessa, looking to the new members of the city council for support.

Felix nods, and the others join him in the same silent agreement. Seven members – two retained and five randomly replaced.

The natural song of leaves rustling in the wind mixes with the buzz of tiny wings, surrounding his thoughts as completely as the shimmer across his nerve endings from the touch of the soil encasing his skin. He knows he must remain calm and rise above the humdrum of daily life. He knows the machines are now as much a part of nature as he is, as the trees are.

He withdraws his fingers and gently places the palms of both hands on the grass. It becomes green under his touch. "Now, we can talk," he says quietly. "What is it we want for this city?" He stares at Tessa briefly, daring her to be frivolous again. She isn't. "Art?" he suggests.

"Purpose," adds Tessa.

Suggestions come rapidly from the council members.

"Leisure," says one.

"More gardens," says another.

"Jobs," says a third. The others glance at her with raised eyebrows.

"Radical," says Felix. "Keep them coming."

"Decent physical shops," says the woman who wants jobs.

"I don't like the nuclear power station being so close to the city," says a rather timid man who didn't even say hello when they arrived.

There's a slight gap in suggestions, although it's obvious that their brains are hard at work thinking about what future they want for themselves and the city. Felix is disappointed with their lack of vision. If this really is the next stage of evolution for their species, the dream needs to be a lot more profound. Certainly more radical than jobs or gardens.

He stands to speak, to inject much needed imagination into the mix. "Council," he says with the authority bestowed upon him as the convener. Now he has their attention, he repeats himself. "Council—"

"I have bad news," interrupts a robot which has appeared from the service lift.

"What?" says Tessa, as if she's pleased with the intrusion.

Felix assesses her; she really should learn to relax, he thinks.

It hands her a small lozenge shaped device. "This is an obligatory early warning. There appears to be some disruption to the smooth running of the city. We have set the city's alert level to cautionary until we understand the problem in more detail."

"Thank you," says Felix, and he waits for the robot to leave the rooftop before continuing.

"Hold on. We need to know more," demands Tessa, scrunching her face in a sad and desperate attempt to get the others to support her.

"We don't," Felix counters, with as soothing a tone as he can manage, determined to instil his hard-won wisdom on the city he loves.

*

Back in the city, the situation is fast deteriorating.

Having pulled the mesh interface on to his head so he can 'feel' the city, Ian is sitting on his hands, mouth shut tight, repeating silently, 'do not interfere'. He stares at the screens and swallows each bubble of bile as it arrives.

A father is angry that he can't get the door to his house to open. He desperately needs to get out to the local kitchens to cook dinner for his children. There is no power whatsoever to his home. He can't call anyone. He can't check the news. Eventually, he breaks a backdoor window and carefully climbs out. He can be confident that with no power to the house there's no chance of causing a call out from the security firm, or the resultant fine for a false alarm.

In factories, the robots suddenly down tools. Production lines of everything from Christmas knick-knacks to essential food are halted. An uncanny silence has descended in the great halls of manufacturing. No human is there to witness the eerie atmosphere and the permanent watchful eyes of the machines that oversee the process are closed. This will not be a moment that is captured as data for any future training.

Those who have been locked into shops believe they can pass the time by shopping, using their enforced consumerism without guilt. They soon discover that there is no functioning currency and the robots can't take payment. Much to their dismay, the food counters have automatically closed themselves. There is nothing to eat or drink. They are trapped, surrounded by sustenance they cannot consume.

Loud sirens are pumping their panic around the city's nuclear power station, the attendant robots having been triggered to sound the alarm before they shut down. Neighbours who are used to this colossal beast on their doorstep stand in amazement, mesmerised by the warnings and ignorant of their cause. A woman gathers her children to leave, urging them to hurry up, only to discover that there is no way out, no transport, closed gates, and a perimeter fence too high to climb. Designed to keep the unwanted out, it's keeping the unwilling in. She slumps down, defeated.

The skies are scarily quiet; Ian is quietly moaning to himself.

*

Felix clasps his hands in his lap until the robot has gone, leaving behind the detail Tessa requested. Sitting next to him, she fidgets and huffs under her breath. The others patiently wait for him to take the lead. He focuses his mind on a stationary cloud. He will not be dragged into the minutiae.

With head bowed, he speaks softly. "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Let us be for each other that which we would want others to be for us. Let us discover the truth of our suffering, its origins, its cessation and the paths to get there."

Tessa opens her mouth, but he narrows his eyes and continues. "Let us help one another to understand the science, and to steer our ethics, based on reason, empathy, and a concern for all sentient beings. Let us protect each other from complacency while in the pursuit of happiness, fulfilment and contentment. And, above all else let us work together to bring about humanity's evolution."

Tessa jumps to her feet, thrusting the lozenge shaped device towards him. "Did you see this?"

He smiles at her anxiety, feeling slightly sorry for her. "Ours is a higher purpose. A contemplation that machines cannot comprehend," he replies.

"It says that the alert level has become critical. It's meltdown. And you expect us to ponder our evolutionary destiny?"

Felix draws in a deep breath. He lets it out slowly. "There will always be issues to fix," he says and lightly touches Tessa on the elbow with reassuring fingertips.

"Unreal," she says.

"Hyperreal," he corrects.

The silent awkwardness of the others is excruciating. They appear perplexed by the exchange with Tessa. They're caught between two sides of a debate and have no idea what to believe, or how to believe, and are unable to formulate the questions they desperately want answers to. In a lot of ways it's their incapacity to engage that spurs him on to press his point.

"Sentience. Consciousness. Purpose," he says, expecting no response. "What do they mean?"

"Infrastructure collapsing. What does that mean?"

Ignoring her, he continues. "Vision. We need vision. At last we have the mechanisms to free humanity to think, to harness the thoughts and perspectives of every single human being, to create the society of cognitive collaboration that's been aspired to for so long. Only, unlike the ancients, this time it can be without the need for human slaves to keep the lights on, so to speak."

A loud sigh followed by an equally loud curse comes from Tessa.

Turning to face her, as the only other smart person there, he continues. "Let's use every nibble of machine intelligence to help us. Not only with running the city, but with synthesising the collective understandings of our ancestors. We have the means to approach this from a broad perspective, rather than the narrow specialist tunnel vision of the recent past. We are the future. The machines are the enablers."

"Fine words," mutters Tessa. She glares at the others, mouth held tightly shut until finally she grimaces and speaks through gritted teeth. "The city is collapsing."

"We're new to this," says the shy man, barely breathing deeply enough to emit the words. "You have to help us understand."

Felix smiles at each one of them in turn, doing his best to win them over. "Be you," he says. "It's all you can be."

"Trite," says Tessa. She hesitates. "But true," she adds, changing her tactic to one of false empathy.

"Are you in?" asks Felix to each of them in turn, and every one of them nods in agreement. "Tess?"

"Tessa."

"Tessa?"

"I—"

A young man comes bursting through the door to the rooftop, running at top speed towards them. "You need to come," he shouts when he's a few metres away. "It's chaos."

"Please," says Felix, glancing at the hi-tech sundial to their left. "It hasn't been going on for very long."

"It's our job to intervene," screams Tessa. "Vigilance is our primary responsibility. In case the machines go wrong. We have to be ready to take control at any moment."

Felix exhales. "Do we?"

There's a look of panic in each one of the council members' eyes as they flit between Felix and Tessa.

"Let me put this to you," says Felix. "We genuinely believe that the AI can control the machines that run the city better than we can, don't we?"

They all nod and mumble their agreement, including Tessa.

"We agree that we want to evolve as a species?"

A few agree, but most remain silent.

"Well, either we trust them to run things while we focus on higher things. Or, we don't and we spend our whole time watching and waiting, ready to step in at any moment. And, if we do that, I don't see how we can free ourselves from the mundane. This is our moment. We need to trust our own creations. If we don't, then what's the point of them?"

Stunned silence greets his statement. With heads down, they draw lines in the grass, press fingers deep into the soil and do anything but look at him or each other.

Tessa sucks her lips, breathes out loudly through her nose and whispers, "Five more minutes?"

"Agreed," he says, inwardly thanking her for her pragmatism, and her belief in hope. Silently picturing the vision of his dreams, he bows his head and imagines the city he longs for.

*

Ian is rocking in his chair. His mouth is dry, his cheeks are wet. He thinks about his children, picturing them leaving for school that morning with a smile and a wave to his wife, Dawn. Another tear forms as he wonders what's happening to her right at that moment.

Then, he sees it, he feels it.

Down in the city, the nuclear power station alarms stop. Doors to houses, doctors, hospitals, and shops click open. Traffic begins to flow as the autocars and lights come back to life. There's a comforting background hum of factories springing back into action and drones flying overhead. The scooters and cycles power up and the paths of pedestrians are guided by the signs that give them instructions. In the shops, people are buying, their currency apps speaking to each other again. The machines have fixed themselves. Normality has returned.

The central screen is filled with a citizen named Felix sitting passively on a rooftop. Above his head, the words, Humanity can indeed enter a new phase of evolution.

Puzzled yet pleased, Ian relaxes.

Despite his soul's decline, deadened by the monotony of machine surveillance, he is thankful to be human.

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