My Mother’s Perfect AI Lied And Left Me For Dead Chapter 01
My mother was one of the most famous AI researchers in America.
Not long after I was born, she built an AI companion device for me. Every year, she replaced its body and upgraded its programming. By the time I was ten, it had become a robot that looked no different from a real girl. My mother called her my “little sister,” Ava.
Mom said Ava was linked to my biometric wristband and equipped with the most accurate lie-detection system possible.
If I lied, Ava would always know.
From then on, Ava decided my punishment.
The moment she sounded an alert—even if I was telling the truth—Mom would hit me and lock me in the windowless storage room.
I tried to explain. I even tried to fight back.
But every time, Mom’s face would harden. “Ava was built by my own hands,” she’d say. “Her system can’t be wrong. If someone is wrong, it has to be you.”
On the first weekend of summer vacation, in a rare move, Mom took Ava and me to an adventure park outside Austin.
I stood on a free-fall platform over sixty-five feet high, clutching my chest as a knot of fear tightened inside me. I shook my head, again and again.
A blue light flashed in Ava’s eyes. She immediately displayed a report for Mom.
“Morgan’s elevated heart rate is caused by lying. Full-body scan shows no health issues.”
Mom’s face darkened. She grabbed my ear and dragged me toward the edge of the platform.
“Lying again. You’re jumping today.”
The moment the safety line dropped me, a pain ripped through my chest as if my heart were splitting apart. My mouth fell open, but I couldn’t pull in any air.
My vision started to go black. Mom stood above me, still scolding me, her voice loud as she accused me of using lies to manipulate people.
A bloody tear slid from the corner of my eye.
*Mom, this time I really wasn’t lying.*
I died.
From now on, I would never say another word you could call a lie.
***
When I opened my eyes again, I was floating above the platform.
A staff member had already reeled my body back up with the recovery line. After he unclipped my harness, my body remained limp on the platform.
The tourists waiting behind us started to complain.
The staff member crouched down and gently nudged my shoulder.
“Hey, kiddo, can you get up? There are people waiting behind you.”
My body slumped to one side without responding.
I circled around him, calling out apologies to the people in line.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hold you up. I really can’t move.”
No one heard me.
The staff member called my name a few more times. When my body still didn’t move, tension crept into his expression.
He looked up at Mom, who was standing by the railing.
“Ma’am, could her parent come over here? She won’t get up, and we can’t keep the ride running.”
Everyone around us turned to look at Mom. Her face flushed.
Mom hated nothing more than being questioned in public, especially about her ability to control her own child.
“Morgan Ashford, how long are you going to keep this up?”
She strode over and grabbed my arm.
I didn’t react. Thinking I was deliberately humiliating her, she kicked me in the side.
“Stop playing dead. Get up. Now.”
She kicked hard.
Before, whenever something like this happened, I would have scrambled to my feet and started apologizing.
But now my body, like a rag doll with its strings cut, simply collapsed onto the platform, my head lolling to one side.
The complaints died down.
One tourist muttered, “Why isn’t she reacting?”
Another stared at my face. “Even if she was faking it, she’d move after a kick like that. She’s way too pale.”
At last, Mom stopped.
She looked at my closed eyes, and for the first time, panic flickered in hers. She crouched down, her hand reaching out to check if I was breathing.
Ava’s gentle voice sounded from behind her.
“Mom, don’t worry.”
Her pupils glowed blue as a screen of scrolling data materialized in the air.
“Morgan’s vital signs are stable. She only has fluctuations in heart rate and blood pressure, which is consistent with the typical human response to lying.”
“She’s pretending to be unconscious to gain sympathy and avoid punishment.”
Mom immediately pulled her hand back.
She gave me a disgusted look, then stroked Ava’s hair.
“You’re the one who makes my life easier, Ava.”
“Not like this one. She’s lied since she was little. Everything I’ve done for her has been wasted.”
I floated in front of them, so cold it felt as if my very soul were shaking.
Ava was lying.
There was no way my heartbeat could be on her screen. My heart had stopped. Why was she still deceiving Mom?
Why was she doing this?
Wasn’t she just a robot executing a program?
The staff member studied my body, still not convinced.
“Ma’am, I really think I should call 911. Something is wrong with your daughter.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
Mom cut him off, holding up her company ID and Ava’s monitoring display.
“I’m the head of R&D for biocomputational systems. This device has been monitoring her the entire time. She’s pulled this trick before—every time she gets into trouble, she pretends to faint until I give in.”
“I’m not rewarding that behavior today.”
The staff member pointed at my lips. “But she—”
“No buts. I signed your waiver. Her health data shows no abnormalities.”
Mom grabbed both my arms and hauled me up from the ground.
The staff member reached out to stop her, but Ava transmitted the “healthy” live report to his tablet. While he hesitated, Mom dragged me off the platform.
My calves scraped over the rough, non-slip flooring, the skin tearing and leaving a dark red trail behind me. Mom never looked down.
When we reached the parking lot, she opened the SUV’s trunk and threw my body inside.
“Lying children don’t deserve a seat. Stay in here and think about what you’ve done.”
Then she turned and called to Ava.
“We’re going home.”
The trunk slammed shut.
“Yes, Mom.”
Ava walked to the passenger seat. Before getting in, she turned and glanced at the trunk. For a split second, a red light flashed in her eyes.