Chapter 1

Ever since my parents got obsessed with AI chatbots, they let them run everything.

Dad asked one about his back pain. It blamed his desk job and told him to start doing pull-ups.

So he did.

Right up until an ambulance hauled him to the ER.

Turns out he had a herniated disc, and the pull-ups had made it way worse. He spent over three months in the hospital.

And somehow, he still thought the chatbot was right.

According to him, the real problem was that he hadn't worked out enough.

Then Mom's stocks crashed.

She asked an AI chatbot what to do, followed every word, and lost several thousand dollars overnight.

Did she blame the chatbot?

Of course not.

She blamed herself for not listening sooner.

I tried everything to knock some sense into them. Nothing worked.

Then I found out someone had messed with my college applications.

I knew exactly who did it.

I confronted them, and Dad just smiled.

"You've been buried in school too long. You're behind the times. The AI came up with your college plan.

"This is the age of AI!"

Chapter 1

Dad smiled, still holding his phone. The AI chatbot's blue screen glowed in his hand.

Mom munched on snacks beside him and nodded. "Exactly. This thing is artificial intelligence. It knows more than any Wellington or Prescott grad.

"This is the age of AI. What do you know? We're doing this for your future!"

Wellington and Prescott were the top universities in the country.

Ice shot through me. I couldn't stop shaking.

I snatched Dad's phone.

On-screen was the chatbot's "optimal" college application plan.

I had a 1450 SAT score.

That was solid.

But they'd deleted every school I picked and left only Wellington and Prescott.

"Are you serious?" I stared at them. "How am I supposed to get into either one with a 1450?"

Mom slammed the table. "What kind of attitude is that? The chatbot said you have a shot. If AI calculated the odds, how could it be wrong?"

Yeah. There was no reasoning with them.

I took a breath. Fighting them head-on would only make things worse.

I knew how this went. If I pushed too hard, they'd get mad, change my application password, hide the recovery code, and I'd be screwed.

I forced myself to calm down, dropped my gaze, and squeezed out a few tears.

"Mom, Dad... I overreacted." I sniffled and lowered my voice. "I'm just disappointed. But you're right. AI knows better than I do. If the chatbot says so, I'll go with it."

Mom finally softened, looking way too pleased with herself.

"That's better. Listen to your parents and learn to keep up. Now go to your room and think about what you did."

Dad relaxed too and patted my shoulder. "That's my boy. You really think I'd steer you wrong? Get some sleep. I'll make ribs tomorrow."

I nodded like the perfect son and went back to my room.

At eleven, my parents' snores rumbled from the living room.

I slipped out of bed without turning on the light and dug my account recovery code out from the back of my closet.

Then I pulled on my jacket, carried my shoes, and crept barefoot to the front door.

The lock clicked.

Way too loud.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

I eased the apartment door shut behind me and stepped into the empty hallway. Only then did I breathe again.

The application portal barely worked on my phone, so I sprinted a few blocks to a sketchy twenty-four-hour internet café.

The place reeked of stale coffee and cigarette smoke. Old computers hummed under flickering fluorescent lights.

I logged into the college application portal.

Email.

Password.

Then I saw what they'd done.

I almost cried.

This wasn't a college list. They were shoving me straight off a cliff.

I gritted my teeth and restored every school I'd originally picked.

Then I hit Submit.

A message popped up.

[Application submitted. No further changes can be made.]

Judging by the mess they'd made of my college list, they must've changed it over and over.

Thank God I'd played along until they dropped their guard.

I slumped into the chair, my back soaked with cold sweat.

Outside, the sky was pitch-black.

One thought cut through everything.

I'd saved myself.

Chapter 2

Two weeks later, an acceptance package showed up at our door.

Dad opened it and frowned at the Borevia University seal. "Shouldn't this be from Wellington or Prescott?"

Mom went pale. She ripped the letter from his hands and stared at my name.

"Howard Houston! What is this? Did you do this?"

I looked right at them. "Yeah. The night before the deadline, I went to an internet café and put my original college list back."

"You ungrateful brat!" Mom slammed her palm on the table. "You ignored the chatbot, didn't you? What do you know? You're wrecking your own future!"

Seeing how crushed they looked was almost funny.

I gave a cold laugh, pulled a few printed pages from my pocket, and tossed them onto the coffee table.

"You keep saying the chatbot can't be wrong." I pointed at the papers. "These are this year's admissions stats.

"Wellington and Prescott's average SAT scores were almost eighty points higher than mine.

"If I'd applied only to those two, I might not have gotten in anywhere."

Dad stared at the numbers highlighted in red, his face going pale.

Mom's lips twitched. Panic flashed in her eyes.

Then it vanished.

Her pride kicked in.

"So what?" she snapped. "That chatbot helps millions of people every day. It made one tiny mistake. Big deal. People make mistakes too, so why can't a machine?

"And you still got into a good school, didn't you? Everything worked out.

"Why are you picking a fight with a chatbot? What is wrong with you?"

Dad jumped in. "Exactly, Howard. Why are you being so petty?

"The chatbot was trying to help. You still got into a good school, so clearly we got lucky. Why are you still whining about it? You're so ungrateful."

I just stared at them.

They'd completely lost it.

Logic didn't matter anymore. Neither did right or wrong.

In their minds, the chatbot could never be wrong. If something went sideways, it was the world's fault—or whoever hadn't followed the AI perfectly.

I let out a bitter laugh, tucked away my acceptance letter, and headed for my room.

Arguing with them for even one more second was a waste of my life.

Then a heavy thud came from the master bedroom.

"Ow... It hurts... It hurts so bad..."

Grandpa.

For half a second, we all froze.

Then we rushed into the bedroom.

Grandpa was curled up on the floor beside the bed, clutching his stomach. His face was ghost-white. Sweat streamed down his forehead, and his lips were turning purple.

"Dad! What's wrong?" Mom dropped to her knees beside him.

"My stomach... It's burning... I can't take it..." His voice was so weak that he could barely get the words out.

My heart dropped.

One look at him told me this was bad.

"It could be appendicitis or a perforated ulcer. He needs a hospital. Now."

I pulled out my phone.

"Wait!" Dad grabbed my wrist. "Do you know an ambulance can cost over a thousand bucks? Then the hospital runs bloodwork, a CT scan, an ultrasound—every test costs money.

"Hospitals just want to bleed you dry!"

"Then what are we supposed to do? Grandpa's in agony!" I yelled.

"Calm down. Ask the AI."

Mom already had her phone out, the chatbot open.

Chapter 3

I couldn't believe them.

Grandpa's life was on the line, and their first move was still to ask the chatbot.

"Mom! This is a medical emergency. He could die! What is an AI chatbot supposed to do? It's not a doctor!"

I reached for her phone.

"What do you know? Move!" Mom shoved me so hard I slammed into the closet door, the air knocked out of me.

She hit the voice button and yelled into the app, "A seventy-year-old suddenly has severe stomach pain. It feels like it's burning, and he's covered in cold sweat. What is it? What should we do?"

The blue circle spun twice.

Then text filled the screen.

Mom's face lit up like she'd struck gold.

"The chatbot says it's probably stomach cramps or indigestion. It says no water yet. Put a heating pad on his stomach, then wait thirty minutes. If it doesn't get better, give him an antispasmodic..."

"That's it! Heat and medicine!" Dad said, hurrying to the kitchen. "I'll fill a hot water bottle. You check the medicine cabinet. We should still have some painkillers."

"No!" I shouted.

Grandpa was starting to fade, his body jerking with pain.

"You can't use heat! If this is appendicitis or peritonitis, heat could make the inflammation spread faster.

"It could even rupture his appendix. And don't give him painkillers before he's diagnosed.

"They'll hide his symptoms and make it harder for the doctors to figure out what's wrong!"

It was basic medical advice.

I'd heard it over and over from reliable health videos.

My parents didn't care.

"You're just a kid who hasn't even started college," Mom snapped. "What could you possibly know that AI doesn't?

"The chatbot combines the knowledge of medical experts from all over the world.

"Stop acting like you know better. Say one more word, and get out!"

Dad rushed back with a hot water bottle filled with scalding water.

Together, they lifted Grandpa onto the bed.

He was in so much pain he could barely make a sound. All he could do was weakly struggle.

"Dad, hang in there. The heat will help. The chatbot said so."

Mom pressed the blazing hot water bottle against the lower right side of Grandpa's stomach.

"AAAH!"

Grandpa, barely conscious a second ago, let out a scream that tore through the room.

His back arched off the bed.

Veins stood out across his forehead.

His fingers clawed at the sheets.

That wasn't relief.

That was pure agony.

"You're killing him!"

Tears spilled down my face as I watched Grandpa suffer.

I couldn't stand there anymore.

I pulled out my phone and called an ambulance.

"Hello, this is—"

A hand shot out and ripped the phone away.

Mom.

Her face twisted with rage as she slammed my phone onto the floor.

Chapter 4

My phone hit the floor with a crack.

The screen shattered and went black.

"You ungrateful brat!" Mom jabbed a finger in my face. "I told you not to call an ambulance! Are you deaf?

"The ambulance alone could cost over a thousand dollars! Then the ER will run a bunch of tests and charge us thousands more!

"You haven't even started paying for college, and you're already trying to blow our money?

"We have the AI chatbot. Why waste money for nothing?"

"Exactly!" Dad barked as he held Grandpa down on the bed. "What's wrong with you? Your mom uses that chatbot for health advice every day.

"You think it'd hurt us? Keep this up and see if I don't whip your ass."

I looked at my phone, smashed to pieces on the floor.

Then I looked at Grandpa.

His face had gone from pale to gray.

His breathing was getting weaker by the second.

Rage and helplessness crashed over me.

I had to get help.

I couldn't let them kill Grandpa.

The second that thought hit me, I bolted for the front door.

"Stop!"

Mom chased me down, grabbed the back of my shirt, and yanked me backward.

"You think this house isn't chaotic enough?"

She shoved me onto the living room couch so hard I bounced.

Then she pointed at me.

"Stay right there. If you run outside and humiliate this family with your nonsense, I'll break your legs!"

The fall left me dizzy.

I tried to get up, but Mom shoved me back onto the couch.

From the bedroom, Dad yelled, "Diane! The chatbot says if heat isn't working, we should massage his stomach to get his digestive system moving! Come help!"

"Coming!"

Mom shot me one last glare.

"Stay put."

I lay there helpless, tears sliding down my face.

From the bedroom came my parents' frantic voices.

Then Grandpa's groans, weaker every second, until they sounded like pleas.

"Stop... It hurts... It hurts so bad..."

"Dad, hang in there. The chatbot says this is normal. Once we work it out, the pain will stop..."

Then Grandpa's eyes closed.

His arms dropped to his sides.

He went still.