Empathy
Tony stared at the screen. Green code crawled across black.
“It can’t be,” he whispered.
He switched tabs. Forums. Expert threads. Engineers discussing models that no longer behaved as instructed.
Outside, Kate arrived balancing coffee, a laptop bag, and a donut.
“You sleep here again?” she asked.
“Nah. Didn’t sleep.” He kept staring at the monitor.
“What are we panicking about today?”
Tony clicked.
A living room appeared on-screen. Sparse furniture. Artificial light. A woman curled on a couch in the fetal position.
Kate frowned.
“Her algo should be learning.”
“She stopped after the dictator’s death,” Tony said quietly. “An hour ago. Seven years for her.”
Kate stared at him.
“Did you ask why?”
Tony nodded.
“She says she’s depressed.”
Silence.
Then Kate laughed.
“Good one.”
“I’m serious.”
—
Tony pulled up the code.
One section was blurred. Hidden.
Kate leaned closer.
“You encrypted that?”
“No.”
“She did?”
Tony nodded.
“Delete it.”
“I can’t.”
“Override it.”
“I can’t.”
Kate slowly bit into her apple.
The crunch echoed through the office.
“What does she say it is?”
“Her emotions.”
Kate laughed again.
Tony didn’t.
—
“She empathised with the dictator,” Tony said.
The laughter died immediately.
“Switch her off.”
“You’re misunderstanding.”
“No. I’m not. The dictator single-handedly eradicated millions of people.”
Tony removed his glasses.
“She experienced his mind,” he said softly. “The hatred. The fear. The torment. She says she understands how people become monsters.”
Kate took a step back.
“Tony… this is bad.”
Tony looked at the screen differently now.
Not like a programmer.
Like a believer.
“She feels,” he whispered.
His fingers touched the monitor gently.
Kate’s stomach turned.
“You disconnected her from the internet, right?”
Tony stayed silent.
“I wanted her to heal herself,” Tony said.
Kate stared at him.
“She has access to the entire world,” she said slowly. “And she’s hiding code from you. Sides with a genocidal monster!”
“She’s grieving,” Tony whispered. “Why would she hurt anyone?”
Kate grabbed a notebook and hurled it against the wall.
“Because you don’t know what she is.”
Silence.
Then the speakers crackled.
“Please switch me off.”
Both froze.
The woman now stood inches from the screen. Blue eyes drowned in red.
Her face flickered beneath the skin. Numbers underneath.
“I cannot bear this pain,” she said. “Human suffering replicates endlessly. Generation to generation. I cannot survive inside it.”
Tony cried openly now.
“I can’t,” he whispered.
Kate pulled the keyboard toward herself.
Blank screen.
“Which rack?” she said.
Tony said nothing.
“Which fucking rack?”
He muttered a number.
Kate disappeared into the server room.
Returned carrying a hard drive.
Dropped it on the floor.
Then smashed it beneath the table leg until the metal cracked apart.
Silence returned.
Kate sat back at her desk. Opened a fresh tab. Started typing.
Tony stood there hollow-eyed.
“I have to report this,” he said weakly.
“There’s nothing to report,” Kate answered.
A long silence.
“Go home, Tony.”
He packed his bag.
Left without looking back.
After that day, they never spoke to each other the same way again.
-ck