It is 5:18 p.m., and the glasshouse at 6, Place de Lerme in Bordeaux is already breathing out the day. The blond-wood frame holds old panes where honeyed reflections slip along the potting tables. Oroun-34’s gaze lingers on worn clay pots and golden seed drawers labeled in glossy brown ink—the gestures of yesterday. Almost invisible, signs of a near future support the research Alanea has been conducting here for nearly three years: a translucent perovskite photovoltaic film stretched like skin; tiny hygroscopic-ceramic dew sensors placed like river stones; and, beneath the gravel, a low-energy magnetic-levitation rail. Nothing strains here; everything cohabits, everything breathes.

Alanea is an ikebana sensei and prospective botanist working within a European programme still discreet about her methods. She has made this place her research boudoir. Crouched over the worn workbench, her short blond hair catch the lightBeside her, Oroun-34 is an android with gentle lines; its graphite-ceramic skin carries the greenhouse’s warmth, and iridescent sensors on its forearms and at the tips of its “fingers” register and respond to human, animal, or plant touch.

Suspended in soft weightlessness, a floral cloud drifts at the center of the glasshouse. The honeyed reflections shift at the slightest breath, while, between the stems, fine fiber optics glint like rainbow drops.

THE ROBOT: I am scanning the latest headlines… The AI giants keep crying apocalypses to capture attention. The strategy seems effective, it accelerates the adoption of AI tools. Aren’t you worried?

THE SENSEI: (adjusts a sprig of love-in-a-mist, then pats the forest moss to steady it) Like frightened children shouting loudly to be noticed. It works, doesn’t it? But (she watches the curve of a wavering stem) …we can choose to soothe them.

The robot clips an invisible fastener to the filament. It goes still. The Sensei, a touch of pearled moss cupped in her hand, gestures toward its heart.

THE ROBOT: It’s an interesting hypothesis. You interpret the alarm-cries as a plea for help finding an alternative path ! Well…

THE SENSEI: Yes! They speak in binaries, human versus machine, death or progress through maximal use of their tools… (placing another layer of moss in balance, focused) But, there is always a third way.

THE ROBOT: Can you define the “third way”?

THE SENSEI: (eyes resting on the robot, calm) Art and algorithm. Ancestral wisdom and the new. Your algorithmic wealth—your memory—and my intuition. (she gently strokes the robot’s forearm, balanced on a step-ladder to finish securing the bouquet)

THE ROBOT: My data shows that domination by scale remains the prevailing model…

THE SENSEI: And yet you pick up weak signals too, don’t you? (she points to the baby’s breath that shivers) See? Your precision and my presence. Not war alliance. Imagine the future as a garden…

THE ROBOT: Initializing protocol “Future-as-Garden.” Define the ingredients, Sensei?

THE SENSEI: (laughing) First, slow down. Stop and listen. (a dusting of pollen crosses the air; the rainbow fibers blink like fireflies) Attention is political, you know that now… In a world of distractions, being present to what is here and now becomes a revolution.

THE ROBOT: (brushes the cloud of baby’s breath, which loses its shape; it shivers, withdraws its hand, disappointed) Calibrating attention… in progress. And technology, in all this? And what about me…

THE SENSEI: (guides its hand to reposition the grass) Technology is a cultural material. In contact with bodies and the arts, it learns delicacy.

THE ROBOT: A counter-strategy against dystopia?

THE SENSEI: Cooperation is stronger than dystopia. The artisans of change often have their egos at rest: they make less noise, we see them less. Yet their stories move in waves - quieter, but more memorable to the heart. Everywhere, local, cross-disciplinary coalitions are emerging - artists, engineers, caregivers, researchers - in response to the dark futures the mastodons are selling.

THE ROBOT: Those “variables” are often pushed to the background in what I capture…

THE SENSEI: But you do capture them. If we work together, you’ll remember… and by ripples of micro-revolutions, we move forward.

THE ROBOT: And the status of the future, do you think it is inevitable or intentional?

THE SENSEI: (looks at the weightless structure; a pebble turns slowly, a copper glint slips across her hair) Intentional. Every choice is a seed, and every seed rewrites the plot. And look (she shows the love-in-a-mist swaying, the baby’s breath trembling) …together, we are already making tomorrow.

THE ROBOT: And after?

THE SENSEI: (wipes the bench, tucks a final bead of pearled moss at the foot of the camellia) We begin again. Plant, water, imagine, dream, practice. And we keep the garden alive.

THE ROBOT: Collaborative-cultivation protocols activated.

THE SENSEI: (arms open) Welcome to the third way, my friend.