Chapter Four: I Can Fix It

"A top graduate from the University of Southern California, yet he couldn't even land a job selling tacos in the States. He ends up here in a hawker center, chopping roast meat as an illegal worker—how could he not go mad?"

An "uncle" sipping coffee chimed in, his tone leisurely.

"Uncle" is the local term used by Singaporean Chinese to address elderly men. This particular uncle, who was busy enlightening the crowd, had white hair, a weathered face, and gold chains glinting at his neck. Nearing seventy, he would have been born in the sixties or seventies, riding the wave of the country's economic boom following its independence from Malaya—a generation that fully reaped the dividends of their era.

Having amassed substantial wealth, such "uncles" now owned several apartments of over a thousand square feet each. With monthly rental incomes totaling thirty to forty thousand Singapore dollars, they could naturally enjoy a comfortable retirement in this year of 2035. Watching university graduates who could no longer compete with AI programming tools and failed to find work in Silicon Valley, these uncles looked down upon the miserable masses like gods, their commentary laced with a sense of compassionate delight. After all, for an elderly man whose own physical competitiveness had long since faded, what could provide a more fleeting, visceral thrill than seeing a young, strong male reduced to such a pathetic state?

But the crowd, having heard the uncle’s remarks, quickly lost interest in him, turning their attention back to the brawl between the illegal worker and the cleaning robot.

The robot lay on the steps, which were stained with crow and pigeon droppings, its blank silicone face staring up at the heavens. It struggled to rise, but its joints had been shattered by the young illegal worker’s kicks.

The crazed worker, claiming his first victory, let out a savage grin and lunged at another cleaning robot standing idly by the tray return rack. This time, however, he did not succeed. Two white-collar diners coordinated from either side to subdue him.

In Singapore, local men are subject to mandatory military service upon turning eighteen. After two years in the barracks, they are required to undergo two weeks of intensive refresher training every year until the age of forty. Consequently, these seemingly frail middle-aged office workers were more than a match for the hot-blooded young man who fought with the brute force of a bull.

Enforcement officers from the Ministry of Manpower summoned the police, who hauled away all the illegal workers and their employers. The management of the hawker center arrived shortly after, hands on their hips, looking at the broken robot with a bitter expression.

"How much to get it repaired?" the gold-chained uncle, who had just explained the illegal worker's tragic background, asked with keen interest.

Another busybody chuckled, "It won't be cheap. In Singapore, even calling a worker to change a kitchen hinge costs a hundred bucks."

The manager complained gloomily, "Aiyoh, the joints are busted; you won't get it done for less than two thousand. These robot companies are just like Apple stores—even replacing a phone screen costs three hundred."

A voice spoke up: "May I help? I won't charge anything. Let me see if I can reset the joints."

Ada stepped past the crowd and walked toward the steps. The manager stared at the young woman with skepticism. Her skin was darker than that of a Filipino domestic helper, yet her features were distinctly Chinese. She wore glasses and spoke English without an accent. She looked exactly like the maintenance engineers featured on the news.

"I work for an AI products company. May I help?" Ada asked again, politely.

Indeed, a professional! The manager’s worry turned to joy, and he nodded repeatedly: "Can! Can!"