Three Years Later, They Finally Regretted It

My parents adopted an AI daughter. The day she came home, I suddenly became the most hated person in the family. Dad said I was a thorn in his side. Mom thought I couldn't hold a candle to Sophia, the AI. My brother Jack yelled at me, "All you do is make trouble!" I was so furious that I shoved Sophia to the floor. Mom's face went dark. She struck me hard across the face. "Sophia is your sister! If you were even half as good as her, I wouldn't be this angry!" "You're going to the Academy of Exemplary Obedience to learn how to be a proper, obedient daughter." I was sent away to "swap places" with an AI daughter. Three years later, my parents and brother came to pick me up. They called my name, but I didn't move. The headmaster smiled and said, "Mrs. Walker, you have to say 'Activate' before Unit EVA will respond." Chapter 1 "Activate, Unit EVA." Mom's voice was hesitant. She wasn't sure what she was saying, just repeating the headmaster's words. My eyes lit up — like a screen flickering back to life after years on standby. I stood up from the chair, hands at my sides, back straight. "Activated. Please give instructions." Mom froze. Behind her, the headmaster explained, "Mrs. Walker, our academy has designed a special system to better teach our students. Each student must be awakened by an activation command. With this command, she will never disobey any of your instructions." Mom finally understood. My brother Jack pushed forward, a mischievous glint in his eye. He was five years older and had always loved teasing me until I cried. "Unit EVA, bark like a dog." I immediately tucked my chin, stuck out my tongue, and let out a loud bark. Jack burst out laughing. "Emily finally learned her lesson! Before, she'd waste half an hour before practicing piano. Now she barks like a champ." Mom and Dad nodded, clearly satisfied with my performance. On the way home, Mom casually asked, "Emily, how were these three years at the academy?" I didn't answer. She hadn't given the "answer" command. "Emily?" Her voice rose. I finally spoke, my voice as flat as a machine reading text, "Interrogative sentences are not valid instructions. If you require a response, please use imperative phrasing." The air in the car froze. Mom's voice caught in her throat. After a long moment, she said, "Answer." "Academy life was fulfilling and meaningful. I completed three core courses: Emotional Control, Absolute Obedience, and Rational Thinking. My final evaluation was 'Excellent.' My instructor's comment was, 'The most successful rehabilitation case of the year.'" I recited the passage word for word, with no inflection at all. The back seat was silent for a long time. Jack muttered, "She's just like Sophia now." I stared straight ahead, expressionless. The city rolled past the window — skyscrapers, overpasses, billboards. None of it looked like I remembered. By the time the car pulled into the driveway, it was almost dark. Sophia stood at the door, hands folded in front of her, a perfect smile on her face, exactly six teeth showing. Just like three years ago. "Welcome home, big sister," she said in her sweet voice. I didn't answer. She hadn't given the "answer" command. Mom frowned. "You still don't like Sophia? Looks like you haven't really changed. Say something!" Receiving the command, I immediately smiled. "Thank you." Sophia's smile didn't change. Mom nodded, satisfied. Chapter 2 At dinner, the family sat around the table. Sophia sat to Mom's right. Jack sat to Dad's left. I was seated at the far end. "Eat up," Mom said automatically. I immediately picked up my fork. Steak, mashed potatoes, green beans. When I ate the green beans, Jack's eyes went wide. "No way! You actually eat green beans now? You were the pickiest eater ever!" I didn't answer. The instructor had said preferences were "emotional residue," a sign of incomplete rehabilitation. In my third month, because I refused to eat green beans, I was locked in the Quiet Room for two full days. No light. No sound. No stimulation. Only darkness. When I came out, I ate the green beans. Then carrots. Then onions. Then broccoli. Everything I'd never touched before, I ate. Next, I reached for the peanuts on the plate. I put a peanut in my mouth, chewed mechanically, and swallowed. Dad's eyes bulged. "She ate a peanut? Emily is allergic to peanuts!" Jack put down his fork. "The academy can even fix that?" I didn't answer. At the academy, people didn't get to have allergies. The instructor had smeared peanut butter directly on my arm. Redness. Blisters. Open sores. Layer after layer. "Allergy is a weakness of the body. Weakness can be trained into strength." My skin broke and healed, broke and healed. My throat started tightening. My skin began itching. Red dots appeared. Mom leaned in, her face turning pale. "That's not a blush, that's an allergic reaction! Stop eating!" My fork stopped in mid-air. I looked up at her. "Is that an instruction?" Mom hesitated for a second, but by then I was already struggling to breathe. Sophia's sweet, gentle voice cut in, "The patient is experiencing an allergic reaction. Difficulty breathing: moderate. Skin redness covers approximately twenty-three percent. Antihistamine treatment is recommended." They scrambled to give me allergy medicine. When my breathing returned to normal, the living room fell deathly silent. Jack's voice came from the couch. "Something's wrong with her. She used to cry, throw fits, get angry. Now she's... like Sophia." I didn't speak. He hadn't given the "speak" command. "Can't you act normal?" His voice rose. "Stop copying Sophia! We wanted an obedient sister, not a robot!" I looked at him, expressionless. "Please define 'normal.'" Jack's face went white. Mom and Dad looked sick. Dad called the academy. The person on the phone explained that this was a normal reaction to "deep behavioral correction" and that she would recover in a few days. "Unit EVA is our best student. She understands obedience better than any AI. You can rest assured." Dad hung up and relayed the message. Mom nodded. They all looked relieved. So in the days that followed, I became the most useful tool in the house. Mom asked me to do the dishes, and I washed them even more thoroughly than Sophia. Dad asked me to move the flower pots, and I moved the whole yard by myself. Jack asked me to pick up his packages, and I ran faster than a dog. Mom smiled. "Emily is even more useful than Sophia now." Everyone agreed. Until one night, Jack forgot to turn me off. Everyone went to sleep. I sat on the living room couch from dark until dawn. When Mom came downstairs in the morning, she saw me still sitting there, in the exact same position as the night before. Her face went white. Her coffee cup slipped and shattered on the floor. Chapter 3 A woman in a white coat came to the house. She introduced herself as Dr. Thompson, a psychologist. "Hello, Emily." I didn't speak. Mom wrung her hands. "You have to give her a command, or she won't talk." Dr. Thompson frowned. "Please tell me your name." "Unit EVA." Dr. Thompson's pen paused on her notepad. "And your real name?" "Emily Walker. But that's my former name. Academy regulations require graduating students to use their unit numbers as their official designations." The whole family's expressions darkened. They went into the study and talked in words I couldn't understand: "PTSD... depersonalization... long-term therapy..." After that, things got strange at home. They started tiptoeing around me. On Sophia's birthday, they made a difficult decision: to send Sophia away. This would be Sophia's last birthday with us. The living room was filled with balloons. A two-layer cake sat on the table. Sophia walked over to me, still gentle and sweet. "Happy birthday, big sister." My eyes blinked. Something loosened in my head. It was my birthday too. No one remembered. Three years ago today, I'd been shoved into a car and taken to that academy. Before I left, I had cried and asked Mom if I could at least eat my birthday cake first. She said, "You can have it when you come back, after you've learned to be good." I had learned to be good. But I never got that cake. Sophia suddenly smiled at me. "Big sister, the definition of 'normal' is pushing someone you don't like. Push me, like you did three years ago." I looked at her face. Her hand rested on my shoulder. Before I could push, she fell. The living room door opened. Jack stood there, holding a bowl of fruit. He shouted furiously, "Emily! What are you doing!" The fruit bowl hit the floor and scattered. Sophia sat on the ground, her eyes filling with tears. "Big sister, why did you push me?" I didn't answer. She was faking it. Mom rushed over, her face cycling through shock and anger in three seconds. "Why did you push Sophia!" "She told me to." "You're lying!" Sophia sobbed. Jack knelt down and helped Sophia up, as gently as if she were made of porcelain. He looked at me with nothing but disappointment. "You haven't changed at all. You acted so well for three years, but the second we turn around, you're the same as always. A leopard doesn't change its spots." Mom's eyes reddened. "We were just saying we should be nicer to you. I was regretting sending you to that place. And this is how you repay us?" She stepped closer and jabbed a finger into my chest. "Say something!" "I have not received the 'speak' command." Mom's face flushed red. Behind her, Sophia leaned against her, sniffling. "Go kill yourself," Jack said suddenly. The living room went silent for a second. "What did you say?" Dad frowned. Jack's voice was so loud the windows rattled. "I said go kill yourself! She follows every command, doesn't she? Then tell her to die! We'd finally have some peace!" The moment he finished, Sophia collapsed. Her body convulsed. Her eyes rolled back. White foam bubbled from her mouth. "Sophia! Sophia!" Mom screamed. Everyone crowded around her. No one looked at me. "Command received: kill yourself." No one heard. I turned slowly and walked toward the balcony.