UNFED

Prague was layered with old things. Tokyo was constantly being covered with new things on top of the old. In one alley, there was a yakitori restaurant that had been there for decades, and right next to it was a convenience store with glass walls.

Inside that convenience store, an AI checkout counter greeted customers. The old and the new didn’t clash; they simply coexisted. That was the way of this city.

Hoon changed trains in Shibuya. It was crowded. Everyone was heading somewhere. Quickly. Quietly. The pace of Tokyoites was as fast as that of Seoulites, but the sounds were different.

People in Seoul talked on the phone while walking. People in Tokyo looked at their screens while walking. There was no sound. That quiet speed actually felt even faster.

Finding Yuki wasn’t difficult.

The person leading a digital detox movement couldn’t possibly be absent from the digital world. It was a paradox, but it was reality. To spread the word about the movement, a platform was necessary.

Yuki had an account. Posts were uploaded frequently: cases of AI overdependence, experiments spending a day without digital devices, and projects involving the exchange of handwritten letters. He was able to find her contact information there.

Of course, we didn’t contact each other digitally.

There was a weekly gathering organized by Yuki. It took place in a small space near Nakameguro every Wednesday evening.

It was called “Two Hours Without Screens.”

Participants would leave their smartphones at the entrance and spend two hours conversing exclusively in person. Hoon decided to show up at the gathering in person.

* * *

The space was small.

It was packed once about twenty people were inside. The floor was tatami. There were low tables. There were shelves on the walls filled with books.

They were all paperbacks. There was a small basket at the entrance. That was where participants left there smartphones.

When Hoon walked in, a few people were already seated. They were conversing in Japanese.

They glanced briefly at the foreigner who had entered, then returned to their conversation.

Yuki was sitting toward the back.

She was in her late twenties. She was petite and quick on her feet.

Even at first glance, you could feel her energy. She was holding something in her hand and striking up conversations with people here and there. It was a piece of paper. A piece of paper with something printed on it. It was this week’s program guide.

Hoon approached.

Yuki noticed him first. She had sharp eyes. A foreigner. Alone. She immediately realized he had walked in without knowing anyone.

She spoke in Japanese, then switched to English.

“Is this your first time?”

“Yes.”

“How did you know?”

“I saw the post. Online.”

Yuki smiled briefly.

"It’s always like this. People find the digital detox group online. There’s nothing we can do about it."

Hoon said.

"I have something to say. Privately."

Yuki looked at Hoon. He was a stranger to her. But her eyes betrayed more curiosity than wariness.

“After the meeting.”

"Got it."

* * *

For two hours, Hoon sat in the meeting.

He didn’t know Japanese. He couldn’t follow the conversation. But he could sense the atmosphere. People spoke slowly. They laughed occasionally.

They wrote something on a piece of paper and passed it to the person next to them. In a space without screens, people moved differently. A little slower. They looked at each other a little more.

At the end, Yuki said something to the whole group. It was in Japanese. People nodded. There was applause. They stood up from their seats. The gathering was over.

People left one by one. They reached into the basket and picked up their smartphones.

As they walked out, they turned on their screens. The motion was so natural that Hoon watched it for a moment.

The moment when two hours of disconnection ended. The moment of reconnection. It happened so fast.

Yuki came over. She pulled up a chair and sat across from Hoon.

“Tell me.”

It was direct. Hoon liked that.

“I’m trying to find a way to live without AI.”

Yuki said.

“That’s the reason for this gathering.”

"I’m looking for a more fundamental solution than that."

Yuki looked at Hoon.

"Like what?"

Hoon said.

"Living without eating."

Silence fell. The room was emptying. As the last person left, the door closed. Only the two of them remained.

Yuki said.

"What does that mean?"

Hoon said.

"Food is the most fundamental means by which AI controls humanity. Humans, who must eat to survive, submit to those who control the food supply. History has always been that way."

Yuki listened.

"When ASI arrives, that structure will be perfected most efficiently. To prepare for that time, we must sever that premise itself."

Yuki thought for a moment.

“Is that possible?”

"It is possible. I’ve done it."

Yuki looked at Hoon. From head to toe. Then she said.

"How long has it been?"

"It’s been six months."

Yuki was silent for a moment. Then she asked.

"Are you hungry right now?"

Hoon replied.

"No."

As Yuki listened to those words, she seemed to be thinking about something. Hoon waited. Lee Jae-in, Amara, and Viktor all needed time in their own ways. Yuki was no different.

Yuki said.

"I’m not afraid of AI. I’m afraid of becoming dependent on it."

Hoon listened.

"Two hours without digital devices is all this gathering is about. Once those two hours are up, everyone turns their screens back on. I do too. That’s reality. The goal isn’t to completely disconnect. It’s just — that we should have the choice. Not out of dependence, but out of choice."

Hoon said.

"That’s right. What I’m doing is heading in the same direction."

Yuki looked at Hoon.

“It’s the difference between not eating when you can, and eating because you have to.”

"That’s the difference."

Yuki paused for a moment.

"Can I hear more?"

Hoon said.

"Do you have time?"

Yuki looked around. An empty space. Low tables. Paper books on the shelves.

"This is my space. I have time."

* * *

They talked for another two hours.

Yuki wasn’t a listener. She interrupted him midway to ask questions. She jumped from one topic to another. Hearing one thing, she connected it to ten others.

When Hoon explained the awakening mechanism, Yuki immediately moved on to transmission methods. When he talked about transmission methods, she moved on to analog network design. Her thoughts were fast. Her speech was fast.

“You mean you’re spreading it only through analog means?”

“Yeah.”

“Then it’ll be slow.”

“I know.”

“Is being slow the strategy?”

"Slow is safe. If AI reads it, it’ll come up with a countermeasure. The unknown is our weapon."

Yuki thought for a moment.

"That logic makes sense. But how do we design an analog network? People don’t know anything about analog infrastructure these days."

Hoon said.

"That’s why we need you."

Yuki looked at Hoon.

“Me?”

"You already understand offline networks. Like this gathering. You know how to connect people without screens. You just need to scale that up."

Yuki was silent for a moment. Then she began writing something on a piece of paper. Hoon watched. Her handwriting was quick. Japanese, English, and numbers were mixed together. It looked like she was sketching a network structure.

"You know about OFW, right?"

Yuki said as she wrote.

"Filipino migrant workers. They're in 195 countries. They're already connected through traditional channels—sending money and letters. If we use those channels..."

Hoon heard those words. It was exactly what he had been thinking, but Yuki had said it first.

"That’s right. That’s the route."

Yuki looked up.

"Since Gong is in the Philippines, if we start there, it will naturally spread through the OFW network—to Southeast Asia, the Middle East, Hong Kong, Europe, and the U.S."

“Can you set that up for us?”

Yuki looked at the paper—the sketch she had drawn—and then looked at Hoon.

"I’d like to try."

Those words were her acceptance.

Hoon said.

"You have to do the 72-hour challenge first."

Yuki nodded. There was no hesitation.

"When?"

Hoon thought for a moment.

“We can do it here. I’ll be right here with you.”

Yuki looked around the room. It was her space. A space without a screen.

“I don’t have any meetings tomorrow. I’m free for two days.”

"Seventy-two hours is three days."

Yuki thought for a moment, then said.

"I can ask someone else to cover the meeting the day after tomorrow."

That settled it.

The two stood up. Yuki began turning off the lights in the room. Hoon helped her. The paper books on the shelves were faintly visible in the darkness.

As they were leaving, Yuki said,

“Can I ask you just one thing?”

"Go ahead."

“Were you scared? At first.”

As Hoon stepped out onto the street, he thought about Dasol’s first night.

“I was scared. But my curiosity was stronger than my fear.”

Yuki heard those words. After a moment, she said,

"Me too. Right now."

It was a night street in Tokyo. People passed by, staring at their screens, earphones in, each heading in their own direction.

Hoon and Yuki walked in the opposite direction of that flow.

No one had noticed them yet.