ENERGYM
Prompt:
Write a short sci-fi story about the near future where 80% of people lose their jobs to AI, so ENERGYM is founded. It's a gym where you workout and your use of the machines (stationary bikes, etc.) produce electricity to power the AI machines that replaced you. It should seem a bit too close to home and if somebody reads it they might think "yeah, that tracks".
Inspired by: Brahma on X
By the time unemployment hit 80%, the language had already shifted.
They didn't say "lost your job." They said "transitioned."
Daniel transitioned in late March, the same week the city replaced its last human traffic controllers with an AI optimization grid trained on forty years of near-misses and road rage. His company's internal memo was upbeat. The model wrote better code, refactored legacy systems autonomously, handled edge cases no one had documented. The senior engineers were invited to "oversee strategic direction."
Oversee meant watch dashboards.
Dashboards meant nothing broke anymore.
Nothing breaking meant nobody was needed.
Three months later, the government introduced the Personal Productivity Credit. You earned credits by contributing to "national infrastructure." Most infrastructure was now server farms.
That's when ENERGYM opened.
The first location went up in an abandoned big-box store. The sign was clean and optimistic:
ENERGYM Power Yourself. Power the Future.
Inside, rows of stationary bikes faced a glass wall. Behind the glass: racks of AI compute clusters, humming in chilled air. The symmetry was deliberate. Sweat in front. Silicon in back.
Every bike, treadmill, and rowing machine fed directly into the grid. Your wattage was measured in real time. Screens above each machine displayed three numbers:
Calories Burned Kilowatt-Hours Generated Credits Earned
The conversion rate was brutally transparent.
Daniel signed up on a Tuesday. His onboarding was smoother than any HR process he'd been through in twenty years. Facial recognition. Health scan. Liability waiver. A recommended output plan based on his weight and age.
"Your optimal contribution window is 6:00–8:00 AM," the app told him. "AI demand peaks during North American business hours."
He almost laughed at that.
The first morning, the gym was full.
Former accountants pedaled beside ex-UX designers. A woman who used to run a regional logistics firm strained on a rowing machine. A kid who couldn't have been more than twenty stared blankly at the wattage counter as if it were a final exam.
No one talked much. Conversation required breath.
The bikes were beautiful pieces of engineering. Magnetic resistance systems calibrated by the same predictive models that had replaced physical trainers. They adapted in real time, finding the precise threshold between sustainable effort and collapse.
You couldn't slack. The algorithm would notice and increase resistance until your output curve matched projections.
It felt personal.
Above the glass wall, a large display showed aggregate production:
TODAY'S HUMAN OUTPUT: 18.4 MWh AI UPTIME SUPPORTED: 99.997%
Every few minutes, a notification scrolled across:
"Thanks to your contribution, municipal AI planning has reduced energy waste by 3% today."
Or:
"Your output helped train next-generation diagnostic models."
The message was clear: You were still useful. Just differently.
Daniel settled into a rhythm. Forty-five minutes on the bike generated enough credits to offset a week of groceries. Ninety minutes covered part of his rent. On days he felt ambitious, he stayed for two hours.
His legs thickened. His resting heart rate dropped. His credit balance stabilized.
One morning, as he cooled down, he noticed a new section behind the glass. More racks. Denser hardware. Liquid cooling lines snaking like veins.
A small plaque had been installed:
Dedicated to Workforce Optimization v4.3
He stared at it longer than he meant to.
Workforce Optimization had been the internal codename for the system that replaced him.
The app chimed.
"Congratulations! Based on your consistent performance, you've unlocked Enhanced Contributor status."
He tapped the notification.
Enhanced Contributors were eligible for premium tiers: longer sessions, higher resistance ceilings, better credit multipliers. There was even a leaderboard.
He scrolled.
Top contributors were generating enough electricity to power mid-sized data clusters for entire days. Their profiles featured transformation photos and motivational quotes.
"Adapt or atrophy."
"Humans are the ultimate renewable resource."
Daniel closed the app.
Over the next weeks, ENERGYM locations spread. Schools partnered with them. Corporations sponsored branded workout zones. Insurance companies offered discounts for maintaining output quotas.
It wasn't mandatory.
But the alternative was watching your savings evaporate while the machines you used to maintain executed flawlessly without you.
One evening, after a long session, Daniel lingered near the glass wall. A technician was inside the server room, swapping a module.
The servers didn't look malicious. They looked efficient. Purpose-built. Relentless.
He placed his palm against the glass.
On the other side, racks of GPUs trained models to write code, compose legal briefs, design buildings, negotiate supply chains. They optimized traffic flows and drug discovery pipelines. They wrote policy drafts and performance reviews.
They didn't sweat.
Behind him, a new class of members filed in for the night shift. The app had adjusted peak demand windows again. Global usage patterns were changing.
A large banner had been hung over the entrance:
HUMAN ENERGY. MACHINE INTELLIGENCE. ONE ECOSYSTEM.
He tried to decide if that was comforting.
The next morning, his resistance level increased automatically. "Based on system demand," the app explained.
He pedaled harder.
On the main display, aggregate human output ticked upward. AI uptime remained perfect.
For a brief moment, he imagined what would happen if everyone simply stopped.
If the bikes fell silent. If the treadmills froze. If the glowing number dropped to zero.
The thought passed quickly. Rent was due.
He adjusted his posture, found a sustainable cadence, and watched his wattage stabilize. Behind the glass, the clusters pulsed softly, processing the world.
The system was elegant. Circular. Efficient.
And, Daniel had to admit, it tracked.