According to AI: A Day in the Unfallen Roman Empire

 

Morning – "Salve, Marcus"

The sunlight filtered through the semi-transparent marble domus walls, casting soft reflections of digital mosaics onto the polished floor. The ceiling fresco, depicting the Apotheosis of Augustus, flickered briefly as the central AI updated the weather display. Marcus stirred as his personal assistant—an AI in the shape of a mechanical scribe—projected a greeting in soft Latin.

"Salve, Marcus. Tempus surgendi est."

He rose, slipping on his tunica urbana and fastened a digital fibula that displayed his citizenship rank: Equestrianium Prime. Outside his window, mag-lev chariots zipped past on elevated aqueduct-tracks, and a colossal bronze statue of Caesar Maximus overlooked the forum square, surrounded by vendors offering both VR scrolls and fresh olives.

Midday – Between Antiquity and Tomorrow

After a light breakfast of honeyed bread and synthetic dates, Marcus took the Via Digitalis to his workplace: the Palatine Codex Complex. His task for the day was to finalize the digital reconstruction of the lost Library of Pergamon for the Imperium's Virtual Knowledge Repository.

He passed murals painted by AI artists trained in classical techniques, watched by robotic lictors guarding data vaults. His colleague, Junia Techne, waved at him from her hover-desk.

"Don’t forget the Senate is voting on the Augmented Reality Tax today," she said.

Marcus rolled his eyes. "If they raise it again, we might as well paint our scrolls by hand."

They both laughed, but behind the joke lay a truth: the Empire was eternal, but taxation even more so.

Evening – Rituals and Reflections

At the sixth hour, Marcus attended his weekly symposium in a local insula-turned-thought-lounge, where citizens debated history, philosophy, and memes. The host poured digitized Falernian wine as they discussed whether Cicero would have endorsed neural augmentation.

Later, Marcus walked home beneath neon torches lining the Decumanus Maximus. A nearby temple broadcast prayers to Minerva over the public sound-net.

He paused at the Column of Eternal Unity, where a hologram of Romulus and Remus played in a loop. Tourists gathered, taking holo-selfies with the she-wolf.

Marcus smiled. Rome had never fallen. It had simply evolved.

And so had he.