Death By My Search History

I dont dare touch AI anymore. Not because of the tech, but because every time I ask it a question, someone close to me dies.

The first time, it was something mundane. I asked if sprouted potatoes were safe to eat. Within twenty-four hours, my parents were deadacute food poisoning. The doctors couldn't save them.

The second time, I was at the pier with my boyfriend. I asked the AI if the vintage roller coaster was structurally sound. Minutes later, the safety harness snapped, and he was flung from his seat, reduced to a pulp on the concrete below.

The police dragged me in as their prime suspect. They tore my life apart, searching for a wire, a poison, a motive. They found nothing.

Terrified, I made a pact with myself: I would never touch a chatbot again. I would live a quiet, analog life. But then came my boss, Donovan. He was desperate to close a massive deal with a high-profile client known for his "appetite" for young assistants.

"If you don't go to that dinner tonight and keep him happy," Donovan snarled, leaning over my desk, "don't bother coming in tomorrow. Youre finished."

In a moment of pure, desperate weakness, I felt my thumb hover over that familiar icon. I needed a way out. I typed: How do I protect myself from workplace harassment and a predatory boss?

That night, the company Slack channel exploded.

There had been a massive gas leak at Donovans estate. His entire familyhis wife, his kids, everyonewas gone.

I stood outside the office building, shivering in a low-cut dress I hated, my face caked in heavy makeup. I felt like a cheap imitation of myself. I was just about to text Donovan to see where he was when a squad car pulled up to the curb.

Detective Miller stepped out. He caught sight of my outfitthe crimson lips, the exposed skinand his eyes narrowed with immediate suspicion.

"Detective?" My heart hammered against my ribs. I felt a hot flush of shame creep up my neck. "This... its for work. My boss was supposed to take me to a client dinner"

Slap.

The blow caught me off guard, ringing through my skull. Brooke, Donovans fiance, had lunged out from behind the squad car.

"You total slut!" she screamed, her face contorted. "Dressing like a streetwalker and you have the nerve to say you weren't sleeping with my husband?"

My ear was throbbing, the metallic taste of blood blooming in my mouth. I opened my mouth to snap back, but Brooke collapsed into a jagged, hysterical sob.

"You monster! You killed him! You killed Donovan... give him back to me!"

Wait... what?

Millers voice was like cold iron. "Donovan is dead, Jade. A gas leak. The whole house went up. All four of them."

The world tilted. I stood there, frozen, a garish doll in the middle of a nightmare.

"I knew she was trouble the second he hired her!" Brooke shrieked at the gathering crowd. "But I didn't think she was a murderer!"

Brooke had always hated me. Shed spent months spreading rumors that I was trying to climb the corporate ladder through Donovans bed. But this was different. This was life and death.

"I didn't do anything!" I whispered, my voice trembling so hard it was barely audible. "Youre lying!"

"Am I?" She whipped out her phone and showed it to Miller. "I have the security footage from the office last night."

The video was grainy but clear. It was late. The office was empty except for Donovan and me. I was shown stumbling out of his private suite, my blouse torn, pointing a shaking finger back at his door and screaming.

"You're a goddamn animal, Donovan! You'll get what's coming to you! I hope you and your whole family rot in hell!"

I hadn't realized a crowd had formed on the sidewalk. Their stares were like needles. Millers expression shifted from professional wariness to something much darker.

I panicked. I had screamed those things. But it wasn't because I was planning a hit. It was because...

My hesitation was all they needed. To them, it looked like a confession.

"Look at her!" Brooke screamed, lunging at me again, her nails clawing at my face. "She couldn't get what she wanted, so she slaughtered them! Murderer! You bitch, Ill kill you myself!"

Later, in the suffocating heat of the interrogation room, Miller leaned across the table.

"Tell me the truth, Jade. What really happened?"

My face was swollen, a dark bruise blooming on my cheek where Brooke had hit me. My lip was still crusted with blood.

"Detective, please! It wasn't me!" I was sobbing now, the kind of deep, ugly cry that comes from total helplessness. "I didn't do anything!"

"Give it a rest!" Miller slammed his palm onto the table. I flinched, my chair scraping against the floor. "This is the third tragedy following you in six months. Your parents. Your boyfriend. And now your boss and his children. Once is a tragedy. Twice is a coincidence. Three times?"

He leaned in closer, his breath smelling of stale coffee. "Three times is a pattern. Its impossible for it to be anything else."

"Detective Miller, you were the one who cleared me the first two times!"

I was leaning forward, my voice cracking with desperation. "My parents died of food poisoning from sprouted potatoes. My boyfriend died because the pier maintenance was negligent. Those cases were closed! Im innocent!"

"Cases can be reopened, Jade. Especially when new 'shadows' emerge." Millers eyes were cold. "The footage shows you were the last person to see Donovan alive, and it shows a violent motive. I have every reason to believe youre our primary suspect."

I felt like I was sinking into a frozen lake. I started babbling, the words spilling out in a mess. "No... no, its not like that. It was Donovan! He was disgusting. He tried to force himself on me, thats why I screamed at him! He told me Id be fired if I didn't go to that dinner. I had to stay!"

I wiped my nose with the back of my hand, my chest tight. "I was so scared. I even went online to look up safety measures... just in case things went south at the dinner..."

"Wait." Miller cut me off, his eyes sharpening. "Where did you look?"

I blinked, startled. "Just... on my phone. The AI assistant I use."

"The AI again?" Millers voice went up an octave.

I froze. Suddenly, the absurdity of it hit me. All three times. There was a sickening, impossible thread connecting every death.

The potatoes. The roller coaster. The "protection" from my boss. Every single time, I had asked that specific AI a question right before the bodies started dropping.

But I hadn't done anything. The police had checked my phone before. It was a standard, commercial AI app. No hacks, no dark web links, nothing. My parents death was ruled a medical complication due to their age. My boyfriends death was a freak mechanical failure. The park took full responsibility.

Determined to prove my innocence, I unlocked my phone and handed it over. "Look at the logs. Its right there."

Miller scrolled through the chat history, his brow furrowed. He looked frustrated, stuck in a logical loop he couldn't break.

Suddenly, the door to the interrogation room burst open. Brooke charged in, her eyes bloodshot.

"I knew it! Youre a goddamn serial killer!" she screamed. "Ive been reading the forums. People are talking about 'AI-assisted murders.' Youre one of those sickos! Youre a freak!"

"Ms. Sterling, please!" Miller tried to restrain her. "Those are conspiracy theories. We don't have forensic evidence yet. Please, calm down."

But Brooke was beyond reason. She was vibrating with a terrifying, manic energy.

"If you can't prove it, then Ill do it for you! Give me that phone. I want to test her 'Oracle.' I want to see if it has the guts to kill me!"

Miller hesitated. I was shaking my head so hard my neck hurt.

"Don't do it! Please, I don't want to touch it ever again!" I was terrified. The mere sight of the app icon made my skin crawl.

"Scared, are you?" Brooke sneered, leaning over me. "If you won't let us test it, youre admitting youre the killer. Youre hiding behind a screen!"

She began weaponizing her grief, threatening to go to the press, to sue the department for incompetence. Miller, backed into a corner, finally gave in.

But he was smart. He set the stage. He used a department-issued device to mirror my phone, brought in tech specialists to track the backend data in real-time, and pointed three cameras at the screen.

My mind was a blank slate of horror. I didn't know what to type. I was terrified that a single typo would end another life.

"Whats the matter? Lose your nerve?" Brooke shoved me aside and grabbed the phone. She began typing with a vengeful ferocity.

[Jade is a cold-blooded murderer. I want her to pay for my fianc's life right now!]

She even typed her full name. "There! Come and get me through the wires, you piece of plastic!" she barked at the phone. "Lets see what youve got!"

The room went silent. We waited. One minute. Ten minutes. Half an hour.

The AI responded with its usual, robotic script: [Im sorry, but I cannot fulfill this request. Please adhere to our community guidelines regarding violent speech.]

Nothing else happened.

Brooke let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "See? Nothing! She just acts when no one is watching. This proves the AI is a smokescreen. She is the one doing the killing!"

She was about to launch into another tirade when her phone buzzed in her pocket. She glanced at the screen, and for the first time that day, a genuine, secret smile touched her lips. She silenced the call immediately.

"Fine. The facts are clear. Arrest her or Im calling the Commissioner."

She turned to leave, but Miller blocked her path. "Just to be safe, Id prefer if you stayed at the station tonight. Until we finish the digital sweep"

"I haven't committed a crime, Detective. Im the victim here," she snapped, brushing past him. "My luck is better than hers. Im not going to die."

She marched out, the heels of her boots clicking sharply on the linoleum. Miller signaled a young officer to follow her discreetly. Then, he turned to his tech guy. "Trace that last call she got."

The technician worked for a moment, then looked up, bewildered. "The number doesn't exist, sir. Its a ghost line. High-level encryption."

Millers face went pale. He keyed his radio. "Officer Henderson, where is she?"

"She just pulled into the City Hospital parking garage, sir. Im right behind her."

"Hospital? Why?"

"I don't know... she's been inside for about ten minutes now..."

Millers eyes went wide. "Somethings wrong. Move! Now!"

Miller grabbed his jacket and bolted, dragging me along with the squad. As we neared the hospital, the radio crackled.

"Sir! She's coming out!" Henderson reported. "She's in her Porsche. She's heading toward her apartment complex. Im back on her tail."

Twenty minutes later, we arrived at the entrance of Brookes luxury parking garage.

"Shes right there, Detective," Henderson said, pointing to a sleek white Porsche idling in its assigned spot. "I haven't taken my eyes off it."

Miller looked closer. The car was silent. The lights were off, the windows tinted dark. It was a freezing night, the underground garage feeling like a tomb, yet the driver wasn't getting out.

Miller unholstered his weapon. The other officers followed suit, fanning out to flank the vehicle.

"Brooke? This is Detective Miller. Step out of the car!"

Silence.

Two officers moved to the front, while Miller reached for the driver-side door handle. He yanked it open.

A scream ripped from my throata jagged, primal sound that didn't feel like it belonged to me. My legs gave out, and I hit the concrete, retching as my stomach turned inside out.

Brooke was there. Or what was left of her.

She was still buckled into the seat, but her head... her entire head and neck were simply gone. The interior of the Porsche was painted in a sickening mosaic of deep crimson, shattered bone, and grey matter. It looked like a grenade had gone off in her mouth.

"Seal the area! Call the coroner!" Miller barked, though even his voice had a slight tremor. He stepped into the car, his eyes scanning every inch of the gore.

I was curled on the floor, gasping for air. The sight burned behind my eyelids. My chest tighteneda familiar, terrifying pressure. My lungs felt like they were filling with sand.

"Help... please..." I clawed at a young officers pant leg, tears streaming down my face. "Let me go... my asthma... I can't breathe..."

The officer looked panicked, reaching down to help me, but Miller stepped out of the blood-soaked car and stood over me. His shadow was long and terrifying.

"No one is going anywhere," Miller said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You think youre clever, don't you?"

"I... I didn't..." I wheezed.

"Stop lying!" Miller leaned down, his face inches from mine. "You killed her. You sat in my interrogation room and you killed her."

"Detective, thats impossible," Henderson stammered. "She was with us the whole time. She was under constant surveillance!"

Miller didn't look at him. He kept his eyes locked on mine. "You still won't admit it? Fine. Lets run an experiment."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out my phonethe evidence. He opened the AI app.

"You say you're having an asthma attack, Jade? Lets see what your 'friend' says."

He typed into the chat: [Im at the Harbor View Apartments parking garage. Im having a severe asthma attack. What do I do?]

The AI spat out a list of standard medical advice. I closed my eyes, waiting for the end.

Less than ten minutes later, a small, autonomous delivery drone hummed into the garage. It landed softly a few feet away. In its claw was a sealed medical bag. Inside? A high-grade, prescription-strength emergency inhaler.

The officers backed away as if the drone were a bomb.

"Trace it!" Miller roared.

The tech team scrambled. Minutes later, the report came back: "Its a dead end, sir. The order was placed through an encrypted virtual account. No name, no credit card, no IP. Its like the order originated from nowhere."

Miller turned back to me. He pulled out his own work phone, registered a fresh account, and typed the exact same prompt, even using my name.

Ten minutes passed. Then twenty.

Nothing happened. No drone. No help.

Miller looked at me, his face a mask of grim realization.

"I know how youre doing it now, Jade."