Don’t hold your breath. This was a favorite fantasy idea when I was a kid. We were drawing pictures of this idea in schoolrooms the 1950s. We imagined it would come to pass far in the future—like by 1975. By 2000 we would all be living in sleek high-rises connected by monorails in the sky, zooming around in personal flying machines, wearing disposable clothes so we’d never have to do laundry, and zipping back and forth to Mars whenever we felt like it. Waited on hand and foot by personal robotic servants. Not a clue how we were supposed to earn a living; maybe somebody was going to pay us for sitting around.
Ironically, the more we farm out the chores of moving around on our behalf, the more likely we are to have to pay somebody for the privilege of using a facility where we can go move around and work off the weight we gained sitting still.