[SOUND: Distant sounds of food being prepared in a restaurant kitchen.]

It didn’t use to be like this.

This quiet.

Almost silent.

Just the equipment making noise.

The knives hitting the chopping board.

The pots and pans.

The bubbling and hissing…

[BEAT]

But otherwise — silent.

It wasn’t like this before.

In the history of food preparation, this is a millisecond.

Less, perhaps.

Kitchens like this are a recent thing.

This quiet — an even more recent thing.

The shouting, the orders, the commands, the buzzing, the rushing —

it all still happens.

But in silence.

Inside it is still the same —

the rushing, ticking, hissing, beating, heat rising —

it has nowhere to go.

No laughing.

No joking.

No cheering when something hits the floor.

Not a word.

We just tap on a screen now.

Order in.

Order out.

It tells us what to make, who is making it, and how long it should take.

First orange.

Then red.

Then flashing red — to let us know that this is taking way too long.

[URGENT]

Go. Go. Go!

This order has to leave the kitchen now!

We can ignore it, of course.

We often do.

Who does that screen think it is?

I have had years of training and experience.

Good food will take the time it takes.

And it is always on time.

I know when it is ready.

I can feel it.

I can feel when we are doing a good job.

When we are in sync and in time.

I know how things are supposed to feel —

to the touch, the textures, the smells, the sounds.

I know how to identify perfection.

[PAUSE]

Apparently… so do these ovens.

Press this button and then that —

and it will come out perfect every time.

Uniform.

Exactly the same.

Over and over again.

No flaws.

No nuance.

No need for me to touch, look or smell.

Just press a few buttons and my work is done.

Input the leftover ingredients and a recipe is generated.

Soon all I have to do is think up the dish…

and it will appear.

All in silence.

[END]