The warehouse hummed with the sound of drones, their metallic wings buzzing as they zipped off into the sky. Nathan sat at his console, staring at the blinking prompt on the screen: "Begin final manual delivery?"

Tomorrow, the drones would handle it all—no pilots, no human touch. Nathan's job would be gone, replaced by algorithms and efficiency metrics. But today, he still had control.

He scanned the address: 142 Balsam Street. The package was small, light. "Garden seeds," the manifest said.

He activated the drone, taking manual control for the last time. Through his headset, the world shrank to the drone’s camera feed.

Balsam Street was quiet, the kind of street where time seemed to slow. The drone hovered above a modest brick house with a weathered front porch. Nathan lowered it carefully to the doorstep, watching as the delivery notification chimed.

But before he could pull back, the door creaked open.

An elderly woman stepped outside, her hair in soft white waves and her cardigan slipping off one shoulder. She squinted at the drone, then waved.

Nathan hesitated but toggled the mic. "Hello, ma’am. Your seeds have been delivered."

She looked around, confused. “Who’s speaking?”

“It’s me, the drone operator,” Nathan said, trying to keep his tone professional. “I’m piloting the drone.”

Her face softened with a faint smile. “Ah, a human. I thought I’d never hear one again from these things. Won’t you come in?”

Nathan laughed. “I’m not exactly... there.”

She tilted her head, amused. “You’re here enough. Stay a moment, would you? It’s been ages since I’ve spoken to anyone besides my cat.”

Nathan hesitated, fingers hovering over the controls. This wasn’t protocol. But what did it matter now?

“Sure,” he said, settling into his chair. “What’s your cat’s name?”

“Solomon. He’s napping in the sun.” Her voice brightened as she spoke. “These seeds are for the vegetable garden I used to have. Tomatoes, cucumbers... nothing fancy. I thought I’d try again this year, though I’m not sure my knees agree.”

Nathan smiled. “Gardening’s good for the soul. Maybe the drones can help water it once you get it started.”

She chuckled. “Drones can’t hold a conversation. I’ll stick with Solomon for that.”

They talked for ten minutes, maybe more. About the garden, the weather, the way the world seemed to move too fast.

Finally, she said, “Well, I should let you go. Thank you, young man. For the seeds, and for listening.”

Nathan hesitated before responding. “It was my pleasure, ma’am. Take care of that garden.”

As the drone rose into the air, Nathan watched her wave until the house grew small and distant.

Back at the warehouse, the drones buzzed on, indifferent. But Nathan sat still, staring at the empty console. It was his last delivery, but it felt like the first time he truly delivered something more than just a package.