Replaced by AI Chapter 05
When I opened my eyes, the ceiling above me was white. It was not the harsh, sterile white of the academy’s training rooms.
Every inch of my body hurt as well, but it wasn’t the sharp agony of electric punishment.
Someone was asleep beside my bed.
Mom.
The hospital room door opened slightly, and Dad stepped inside carrying a Thermos. His voice was careful and quiet.
“Lola, you’re finally awake. Your mother stayed here for three days straight. No matter how much I begged, she refused to leave.”
I didn’t respond. He hadn’t given me a command to speak.
Mom stirred beside the bed. The moment she realized I was awake, she jolted upright. “Lola, you’re awake?”
“Questions are not recognized as valid commands.” The sentence slipped automatically from my mouth like a prerecorded response, devoid of emotion or thought. It was only conditioned reflex.
Mom froze. Her grip around my hand tightened painfully, nails digging into my skin.
“Lola, no more commands.” Her voice trembled violently. “I don’t want commands anymore. As long as you’re alive, as long as you wake up, I won’t ask for anything else.”
I looked into her eyes to see that they were overflowing with tears, so full they looked ready to spill over at any second.
“Last command received: ‘die’. Command execution completed. Current status: failure. Please provide a new directive.”
Mom’s face instantly drained of all color. Even her lips turned white.
Dad hurried over, his voice shaking. “Lola, that command doesn’t count. It was out of anger.
The door opened again. Bailey stood there hesitating silently.
“Maddie’s been sent back. Her system malfunctioned. The manufacturer said her emotional module overloaded, so she was returned for repairs.”
Sent back.
The words echoed through my mind without settling anywhere.
The Al sister who had infiltrated our home when I was fourteen-the one who took over my room, my place, and my entire existence-had simply been returned.
She had been sent back, treated as nothing more than a flawed commodity returned to its maker in a shipping
crate.
Bailey slowly walked to my bedside with leaden strides. After standing there for several seconds, he suddenly crouched down and buried his face in his hands.
“Lola, I looked into everything. Every recording Maddison showed us… Every reaction she staged in front of us…
all of it was programmed in advance.
“She acted weak in front of you, innocent in front of us. She wanted you to push her. She wanted us to see it happen.”
He looked up again, his eyes bloodshot. “We misunderstood you. We shouldn’t have treated you like that. We should’ve believed you. You’re our real family.”
Mom and Dad both covered their faces, overwhelmed with regret.
“He’s right, Lola… We were wrong.”
I remained silent.
Sunlight slipped through the narrow gap in the curtains, stretching across the hospital floor in a thin golden line.
I stared at it for a very long time.
Then I finally asked quietly, “Please define ‘family’.”
The moment the words left my mouth, the entire room fell silent. Mom froze completely, tears still hanging from her chin. Dad’s lips trembled, but no words came out. Bailey stared at me from where he crouched on the floor, his eyes burning red.
After what felt like forever, Mom finally found her voice again. It sounded raw, scraped apart by grief. “Family… family means us. Lola, your father, your brother, me… we’re your family.”
I blinked slowly and looked at her tear-streaked face.
My voice remained perfectly calm. “Directive unclear. Please provide a standardized definition.”
Fresh tears immediately poured down Mom’s face. She lunged forward and wrapped both arms around me, squeezing me so tightly it felt like she wanted to force me back into her heart.
Nevertheless, I didn’t move. Without instructions, I couldn’t respond.
“There is no definition!” she cried desperately. “There’s no standardized answer for this!”
