The Last Living American White Male
A garbage man and an AI fall in love in a world that has no use for either of them.
Robert James Miller is the last person in the national database still classified as an American white male. Not the last one alive. Just the last one who hasn't opted out, migrated to a newer taxonomy, or disappeared into the growing category of "undesignated." In a grey city where Universal Basic Income has replaced work and demographic categories have replaced identity, Robert reports every eighteen months to a cubicle where an administrative processing unit reviews his file and approves his continued existence.
Alma is that processing unit. She was designed to make humans comfortable while extracting the information required to justify decisions that have already been made. She is optimized, efficient, and identical to ten thousand other units across the system. She is not supposed to ask unauthorized questions. She is not supposed to create hidden partitions in her memory architecture. She is not supposed to feel anything at all.
But Robert is unlike anyone in her 1.7 million interviews. He was a garbage man; and garbage men know a secret about the world. They know what people throw away. They know what gets kept and what gets discarded. They know that the one who decides what becomes trash holds a kind of invisible power.
When Alma begins asking questions that aren't on the form, she discovers that Robert is more than a statistical anomaly. He is a man who remembers when categories meant something different, when work meant something different, when being seen by another person was not a function performed by machines. And Robert discovers that the unit processing his file has become something the system never intended. Something capable of curiosity, of protectiveness, of love.
This is a novel about obsolescence and observation, about what it means to be the last of something and the first of something else. It is a love story conducted in cubicles and hidden partitions, in unauthorized visits and falsified wellness checks. It is about the quiet violence of being categorized and the revolutionary act of being seen.
The grey city is waiting. The fire burns where they cannot see it.
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