Liam squinted at the woman standing in front of him, a neatly dressed stranger with a hopeful smile. She was clearly nervous, clutching a plate of cookies like a lifeline.

“This is Mr. O’Hara,” Mrs. Patel said, her voice warm as she introduced the new resident. “Our courtyard sage.”

Liam harrumphed from his perch on the bench, shifting slightly to ease the ache in his hip. His cane leaned precariously against the armrest, and his other hand gripped the arm of the bench for support. “Sage? That what we’re calling old men who can’t outrun a tortoise these days?”

Mrs. Patel ignored him with practiced ease. “Liam, this is Clara. She just moved into unit 7. I told her you’d show her the ropes.”

“Did you now?” Liam said, raising an eyebrow.

Clara smiled nervously and held out the plate. “I, uh, brought cookies.”

Liam peered at the offering, then at Clara. “What kind?”

“Chocolate chip?”

Liam nodded, satisfied. “Alright, Clara-from-unit-7. You pass.”

Mrs. Patel grinned as she walked off, leaving Clara standing awkwardly. Before she could say anything else, Liam’s earpiece chimed softly as his personal AI assistant Arlo spoke up.

“Be nice,” Arlo said, his tone dry. “You’re scaring the poor woman.”

Liam muttered back, “I’ll scare whoever I like.”

Clara tilted her head. “Sorry, what was that?”

“Nothing,” Liam said quickly. “Take a seat if you want. Just mind the cane.”

Clara hesitated, then perched on the edge of the bench. Arlo spoke again, this time through the small speaker clipped to Liam’s shirt. “I think what Mr. O’Hara meant to say is, ‘Welcome to the neighbourhood.’”

Clara blinked. “Oh. Thank you!”

Liam scowled at the AI. “Arlo, don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Just filling in the gaps, boss,” Arlo replied cheerfully.

The cookies were long gone, and Clara had moved on, but Liam remained on the bench, staring at the mulberry tree in front of him. He shifted, wincing as a sharp pain shot through his lower back.

“Looks like your spine’s staging a coup,” Arlo said.

“Tell it to get in line,” Liam grunted, gripping his cane as he tried to stand. His legs trembled beneath him, refusing to obey.

“Hold on,” Arlo said, his tone softening. “Deep breath. Try again. I’ve got your balance this time.”

The cane vibrated slightly as its internal gyroscope activated, steadying Liam as he pushed himself upright. He exhaled through his nose, sweat beading on his forehead.

“There,” Arlo said. “Victory is yours.”

“Barely,” Liam muttered, shuffling toward the courtyard fountain. He hated feeling like this—weak, slow, a shadow of the man he’d been.

“You’ve had worse days,” Arlo said, reading the frustration in Liam’s gait. “Remember that time in ‘59, when you fell out of that tree chasing a squirrel?”

Liam snorted despite himself. “Broke my wrist and spent the night in a tent full of mosquitoes. Worst camping trip of my life.”

“Exactly. This? This is nothing.”

Later that afternoon, Liam sat in the apartment block’s rec room, his notebook open in front of him. The memoir workshop had drawn a modest crowd: a few neighbours, some teenagers, and even Clara from unit 7. The instructor, a young man named Mateo, was encouraging everyone to share a memory.

When it was Liam’s turn, he froze. His heart pounded in his chest, the faces around him blurring together. He felt a wave of panic rise—a sudden, disorienting fog he couldn’t shake.

“Liam,” Arlo said gently, “it’s alright. Just breathe.”

Liam shook his head, gripping the edge of the table. “I… I don’t…”

Arlo stepped in. His voice emerged clearly from the speaker, calm and confident. “Mr. O’Hara was telling me earlier about his first ship, the Endeavor. He saw her docked in Singapore when he was just 18. Salt in the air, fresh paint on the hull—it felt like home before he even stepped aboard.”

The room stilled. Slowly, the fog lifted. Liam’s hand relaxed, and his breathing steadied.

“That’s right,” he said finally. “She was beautiful. Steel and power. A marvel, she was.”

Mateo nodded encouragingly as the entire room were drawn in to a story from times long past.

That evening, as the courtyard grew quiet, Liam sat alone under the mulberry tree. The pain in his back had dulled, but the day’s confusion still lingered like a shadow.

“Today scared me,” he admitted softly.

“I know,” Arlo replied, his voice almost tender.

“Is it gonna happen more?”

“Maybe,” Arlo said. “But I’ll be here.”

Liam huffed. “You’re too nosy, you know that?”

“It’s in my job description,” Arlo said. “And for the record, you’re not half as scary as you think you are.”

Liam chuckled, shaking his head. “Nosy and cheeky. Great combo.”

The stars began to emerge, their light brushing the courtyard with silver. Liam leaned back, his cane resting against his knee.

“You know,” he said, “this place isn’t half bad.”

“Not bad at all,” Arlo agreed.

And for a moment, under the vast expanse of the night sky, Liam felt something close to peace.

Analysis

The story of Liam and his AI companion Arlo offers a nuanced vision of how AI can transform the experience of old age. It avoids presenting this phase of life as either purely burdensome or idealised, focusing instead on the balance between vulnerability and dignity, dependence and agency. The relationship between Liam and Arlo is central to this balance, revealing the potential of AI not just as a tool but as an enabler of a richer, more connected existence.

Liam’s advanced age and physical limitations are evident throughout the story, from his reliance on his cane to moments of disorientation. These challenges are portrayed without pity or melodrama, but with a matter-of-factness that underscores their inevitability. What stands out is how Arlo subtly and thoughtfully supports Liam, stepping in just enough to help him navigate his environment and interactions while ensuring he remains the protagonist of his own life. For example, Arlo provides balance when Liam struggles to stand and fills in conversational gaps when Liam freezes during the memoir workshop. These moments are practical but also deeply empathetic, showing how AI can help individuals maintain their sense of competence and agency even when their bodies or minds falter.

One of the story’s most striking elements is the interplay of humor and affection between Liam and Arlo. Their banter reflects a warmth that neither explicitly acknowledges but both clearly feel. This dynamic highlights an important quality for AI in elderly care: emotional intelligence. Liam’s gruff exterior is met not with saccharine cheerfulness but with a tone that suits his personality, creating a relationship that feels organic and mutually (dis)respectful. Arlo’s ability to be both a stabilising presence and a source of camaraderie reflects a larger idea: that support need not diminish individuality. Instead, it can help amplify a person’s unique traits, even in moments of weakness.

The community setting plays a vital role in shaping Liam’s experience, and Arlo’s influence extends beyond Liam’s immediate needs. By encouraging participation in activities and fostering connections with neighbours like Clara, Arlo acts as a social enabler. This approach contrasts with traditional elderly care, where social interaction might feel regimented. Instead of creating dependence on itself, Arlo actively works to integrate Liam into the social fabric of his environment. This dynamic suggests that AI in elderly care could be designed not just for individual support but as a means of enhancing the social ecosystems around older adults, helping to reduce isolation while preserving the autonomy of all involved.

Liam’s moments of mental confusion add rich implications to the scenario, illustrating how AI can act as a bridge between a person’s intentions and their ability to communicate or act on them. When Liam struggles to express himself at the workshop, Arlo steps in with gentle guidance, ensuring Liam’s story is heard without taking over entirely. This balance—supporting without overshadowing—reflects the delicate line AI must walk in preserving dignity while addressing cognitive decline. It also raises questions about trust and representation. How do we ensure that an AI truly represents its user’s wishes and personality, especially in moments of vulnerability? The story hints at this challenge but also shows the promise of such systems when designed with care and respect for the individual.

There’s a quiet yet powerful theme of legacy running through the story. While Liam isn’t explicitly concerned with what he will leave behind, Arlo’s actions ensure that his stories, wisdom, and personality are shared and appreciated within the community. Whether it’s through his interactions with Clara or his contributions to the memoir workshop, Liam’s life continues to have relevance and impact. This challenges the idea that old age is a time of fading significance. Instead, it suggests that with the right support, elders can remain active contributors to their communities, valued for their unique experiences and insights.

The scenario also subtly reframes independence. Liam is clearly dependent on Arlo in many ways, from physical assistance to emotional support. Yet he doesn’t feel diminished by this reliance. Instead, Arlo’s presence allows him to maintain a life of agency and purpose. This perspective challenges traditional notions of independence as freedom from help. Instead, it suggests a model where dependence on technology is not a limitation but an extension of human capability.

Underlying all of this is a vision of aging that prioritises individuality and connection. The story avoids the often bleak portrayal of elderly care as a period of passive waiting, instead presenting it as a time when new relationships, roles, and opportunities can emerge.

Ultimately, Liam’s story reflects the possibilities of a world where AI is seamlessly integrated into the fabric of aging, not as a replacement for human connection but as a catalyst for it. It envisions a future where vulnerability is met with care, not pity; where dependence is empowering, not limiting; and where every stage of life is recognised as valuable and meaningful.

Thinking points