The company wanted to “listen to its employees.”So it bought a chatbot.
Marc typed: “I’m exhausted.”
The chatbot replied: “Try a ten-minute walk.”
Well-being has never been so automated.
Small workplace scenes that no one notices or questions.
And yet, that’s where everything shifts.
Monday morning.
Marc arrives before everyone else. The fluorescent light flickers once, then dies for good.
The air is warm, saturated with the smell of damp carpet and overheated plastic.
He opens his laptop, eyes still heavy. A message appears:
“New HR Program — Luna, your listening companion.”
He remembers the meeting.
The VP, in a light suit, resting both hands on the table as if to bless the room:
“Luna is a key step in our human transformation.”
No one dared to laugh, but everyone thought something.
The pastel slides with the HR logo kept rolling: engagement, resilience, balance.
A colleague took a picture for LinkedIn. The flash lit up the faces, but none of them moved.
That morning, Marc clicks the link.
A blue screen. A small animated bubble with big round eyes, like a manga character.
“Hello Marc. How are you feeling today?”
He types:
“I’m exhausted.”
Immediate reply:
“It’s normal to feel tired! Have you tried taking a 10-minute walk between meetings?”
He reads the sentence again.
He imagines thousands of people, somewhere in other offices, receiving the same reply at the same time.
And he wonders how many of them actually tried going for a walk.
He types again:
“I can’t do it anymore.”
This time, Luna pauses.
“You’re not alone. I can share the link to our Employee Assistance Program.”
The sentence stays lit on the screen — soft, and hollow.
Marc stares at the blinking cursor. Somewhere in the distance, the photocopier hums. Someone laughs.
He closes the window without answering.
At 2 p.m., an internal notification pops up with the same pastel logo:
“Great job! Already 84% positive interactions with Luna. Well-being is built together.”
A colleague comments: “We’re making progress!”
Marc clicks “Like.” The reflex is faster than the thought.
That evening, leaving the office, he passes the HR poster:
“Talking is already getting better.”
He stops for a moment, staring at it.
He no longer knows whether the sentence is meant for him — or for the distant server that keeps his answers.
Then he shuts down the screen.
Luna disappears.
And naturally, silence takes back its place.
The problem isn’t Luna.
It’s the organization that believes a tool can replace presence — and that a metric is enough to prove it cares.
Seedz / Silent Guest
Not a coach. Not a therapist.
A clear mirror — to see clearly, before choosing.
