There’s no longer any telling what the future holds for us now, in the twenty-seventh century, when technology has become so advanced. All necessities are produced automatically, and even entertainment is generated every day by artificial intelligence. What will become of us in this world where humans are no longer needed to provide any input? There’s no way to know.

“Writers like you and me are fading away,” said my teacher. “Back in the day, as long as we put in the required time, we could finish one book a year, at a minimum. Now, technology can do that in just two minutes. The gap has grown too wide.”

Old-time science fiction often imagined robots ruling humanity one day. That scenario has already happened, except that there was no violence—humans just gave up willingly. “I still believe there are things technology can never do,” I said. “A good work of fiction, for one, can only be written by a human. Our weaknesses, flaws, and fears of the unknown are unique human qualities, and stories that vividly narrate them remain compelling to read. A good novel captures human imperfection, but technologies are built to be perfect. They’re not good enough to replace us just yet.”

Software could write a romance story, but it cannot understand love. AI can produce a great novel, but it cannot understand life the way we do. While I have no qualms about scientific advancement, I don’t want to give up my pride as a human just yet. I believe that now, and even in a hundred years, our creativity will still keep us one step above.

Or perhaps, as my teacher said, we’re just fading away.