The word robot is now inseparable from conversations about artificial intelligence, automation and the future of work. But its origins lie not in a laboratory or workshop, but in a Czech theatre more than a century ago.

In 1920, writer Karel Čapek published his play Rossum’s Universal Robots (R.U.R.). Premiering in Prague the following year, the drama introduced the world to “robots” — a term that would soon travel across languages and continents.

Čapek later explained that the word itself was suggested by his brother Josef. He borrowed it from the Czech robota, which means “forced labour” or drudgery, a reference to the feudal obligations once imposed on peasants in Central Europe. The same linguistic root links to the word for “slave” in several Slavic languages.

But the “robots” in Čapek’s play were not the metallic machines we imagine today. They were synthetic, human-like beings, created to serve. They worked tirelessly, felt no emotions and had no souls. They were built for obedience — a vision of labour stripped of freedom.

Čapek’s story, however, was less about technological wonder than it was a warning. The robots eventually rise against their creators, overthrowing humanity in a violent revolt. Yet they too face extinction, unable to reproduce and sustain themselves — a sharp allegory about unchecked ambition, exploitation and the limits of control.

Since then, the word robot has evolved far beyond its theatrical debut. It encompasses factory machines, domestic helpers, surgical tools and, increasingly, artificial intelligence systems. But the legacy of robota — work, compulsion and servitude — lingers in every mention of the term.

As today’s debates on automation and AI intensify, the century-old origins of “robot” remind us that questions of labour, power and humanity have always been at the centre of technological progress.