In a world where humanity has been trying for centuries to force itself to swallow bitter pills and endure unpleasant medical procedures, the most elegant and humiliating way out has finally been found. If the patient does not want to go to the doctor, the doctor in the form of a tiny edible robot will come to him himself — through the esophagus. Welcome to the era of soft edible robotics, where your medicine doesn't just cure — it performs a mission with the precision of a special forces soldier, and then disappears into your insides without a trace.

Researchers around the world are working to create robotic devices from biocompatible and, most importantly, edible materials. These mechanisms, which look like a cross between a jelly candy and an avant-garde work of art, are designed to be swallowed, deliver the medicine exactly to the target, and then simply... digest. This is an ideal solution for patients who hate hospitals and pills, but have not yet figured out how to completely abandon health care.

Jelly with a mission: or why your next robot will taste like strawberries

Why is it difficult? Creating a robot that could withstand the acidic environment of the stomach, navigate through the labyrinth of the intestine and at the same time not harm the tissues is a challenge on the verge of fantasy. Modern prototypes use the principles of soft robotics: they move due to pneumatics or magnetic fields, changing their shape to push themselves forward.
 

"We draw inspiration from nature, from organisms that can move through viscous media," the scientists say, modestly omitting that their next task is likely to be to create an edible imitation of an intestinal parasite.

Imagine: you are having breakfast, and along with yogurt you swallow a tiny jelly, which, once in your body, unfolds like origami, and begins to slowly move towards the diseased organ in order to release a powerful drug. This can be called both a breakthrough and the most sophisticated form of body surveillance ever invented.

The economy of disposable surgeons: cheaper than running a hospital

The sarcasm of the situation becomes especially thick if you look at it from an economic point of view. Traditional medicine is expensive. Hospitals, staff, equipment, insurance. Now imagine a world where complex diagnostics or drug delivery can be carried out using a device that costs pennies in mass production and that does not require sterilization — it is simply disposed of by the patient himself in a natural way.

This is a solution to problems with queues in polyclinics, a shortage of surgeons and even transport accessibility of medical institutions. Your future first-aid kit will contain not analgin, but a set of multi—colored specialist robots: red for the stomach, blue for the intestines, and green for sedatives. Why pay a doctor if you can just have a snack with a robot?

Employment with a taste: a career lasting one digestive cycle

And here comes the most unexpected twist in this employment story. While people are protecting their jobs, edible robots are modestly occupying one of the most niche but critically important positions in the market. They are the quintessence of the idea of temporary work with full dedication. And like any highly qualified, albeit short-term specialist, they need their own recruitment system. Platforms like jobtorob.com They are ideally suited for such a symbiosis, helping to "employ" these unique bio-mechanical hybrids, linking their "skills" to the specific medical needs of patients. This is perhaps the most honest HR: you are ideally suited for this role, complete one task and make room for the next.

A future where your stomach will become an assembly shop

What awaits us? It's easy to imagine what a doctor's visit will look like in twenty years: you order a set of edible drones by subscription, download an application that diagnoses the problem, and swallow the right robot that will do everything by itself.

Humanity, which has been afraid for centuries that machines would take over the world, can finally exhale. They will not become our overseers — they will become our dinner. We will absorb thousands of them so that they can repair us from the inside. And there is a strange, perverse poetry in it. We become both gods, and the habitat, and the end point of disposal for our quiet, obedient, delicious-smelling servants. We can only hope that they will not have their own AI and desire to form a trade union. Because the strike inside your gut is exactly the kind of nightmare we didn't need.