Father’s AI Prison

My cold body knelt rigidly in the corner of the room. My head hung low. Even my heartbeat had faded away a long time ago.

When Dad pushed the door open and saw me in this state, a satisfied smile spread across his face.

He had no idea that it took every agonizing ounce of willpower I had left just to crawl back here.

Hours ago, I had sneaked out of the house to follow him and that fake son of his to a dinner banquet. Hiding in the shadows of the grand hall, I overheard Dad chatting with his wealthy buddies.

"That kid has been gunning for Toby since day one. Always throwing the 'I'm your real blood' card in his face. I was at my wit's end."

"I had no choice but to send him to that underground AI obedience clinic. Just a little neural rewiring to make him a compliant, proper son. It is tough love, but it is for his own good."

Just as the words left his mouth, the remote control in Dad's pocket vibrated. The screen flashed a warning indicating I was not in my bedroom.

His face went pale with rage. He jabbed his thumb onto the screen, firing off an override command: [Return home immediately. Assume the kneeling punishment!]

My body instantly hijacked itself. I sprinted toward the estate like a madman, my legs moving completely against my own will.

On the dark road, a speeding car came out of nowhere. The impact launched me into the air, shattering my ribs and rupturing my organs.

But the override command was absolute. I dragged my broken frame off the bleeding asphalt, stumbling forward, murmuring blindly into the night air. "I am sorry, Dad. I will go home to kneel. I am sorry."

And now, I was finally kneeling here in the dark, exactly as he wanted.

The entryway lights flickered on. Dad walked in holding Toby's hand. His eyes landed on me, and his lips curled into an approving smirk.

"Good boy. Glad to see you have learned your lesson."

I remained frozen in place, kneeling perfectly still.

Toby wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Gross, Dad. He is covered in dirt. He looks like a homeless beggar."

Dad ruffled Toby's hair, his voice softening instantly. "Do not be mean, buddy. Your brother knows he messed up. He is going to toe the line from now on."

He turned his cold gaze back to me, issuing his next vocal prompt. "Go up to your room and clean yourself up. Do not come out until I give you permission."

My neck gave a jerky, mechanical nod. I forced myself up and dragged my heavy feet up the stairs.

During lunch the next day, the dining table was loaded with gourmet dishes. Dad kept piling food onto Toby's plate, his tone dripping with affection.

"Eat up, Toby. The salmon is good for your brain. And here are those BBQ ribs you love so much."

Toby chewed loudly, speaking with a mouthful of meat. "Thanks, Dad!"

I sat rigidly in my chair, staring blankly ahead, waiting for Dad's command.

Dad glanced at me from the corner of his eye and muttered dryly. "Eat your greens. No being picky."

"Yes, Dad."

I picked up my fork, stabbed a pile of boiled spinach, and shoved it into my mouth.

The vegetables had gone freezing cold. They felt like wet cardboard grinding against my teeth, but I could not stop. I chewed and swallowed, over and over again, like a machine on a loop.

I did not put my fork down until Dad finally said, "Stop eating if you are full." I immediately dropped the silverware and sat bolt upright.

"Look at your brother, Toby. So obedient. Does not fuss over his food at all. You need to learn from him and finish your fish." Dad tossed the words out casually. There was not a single ounce of actual praise in his voice.

Toby scoffed, clearly annoyed by the comparison. He picked up his piping hot bowl of soup and shoved it across the table toward me. "Here, weirdo. You can have my soup."

Before I could even reach out, Toby deliberately tilted the bowl. Boiling hot broth splashed directly onto my forearm, soaking through my sleeve.

"Wow, you are so clumsy! Can't even hold a bowl right," Toby sneered. A triumphant little smirk played on his lips.

The scalding liquid blistered my skin, yet my face remained entirely blank. I did not flinch. I did not feel a thing.

Dad quickly grabbed a napkin to wipe a stray drop off Toby's fingers before turning to glare at me.

"Ben, what is wrong with you? If you drop a bowl, you could burn your little brother! You are the older one here. You are supposed to protect him. Do you understand me?"

I nodded my head in that same rhythmic, lifeless motion. "Understood, Dad. I will protect my brother."

Dad let out an exhausted sigh and called for Mr. Bates, our butler, telling him to take me upstairs to clean up the mess.

I followed Bates into my bedroom. As he helped peel off my soup-soaked shirt, he gasped. He stared at my arms and back, horrified by the massive, dark purple blotches blooming across my skin.

"Ben, sweet heavens... how did you get these bruises? This looks incredibly severe."

I just stood there, staring at the wallpaper with hollow, unblinking eyes.

Bates asked me three more times. When my vocal box did not register a command to reply, he shook his head in distress and hurried downstairs to find Dad.

"Sir, Ben's body is covered in massive purple contusions. I don't know what happened to the poor boy, and he absolutely refuses to speak."

Dad was busy peeling an orange for Toby. He rolled his eyes, utterly unbothered.

"Where do you think he got them? He probably tripped and fell into a ditch when he snuck out yesterday. Leave him be. The pain will teach him a lesson so he stops running off like a stray dog."

Bates opened his mouth to argue, but Dad silenced him with a lethal glare. "Enough. Go back to your duties. Stop babying him."

After the butler left, a brief shadow of doubt crossed Dad's face.

He remembered last night. Shortly after he sent the punishment override, his control app had vibrated violently. A bright red error message had popped up on the screen, reading: [Subject is experiencing critical trauma. Vitals failing. System initiating emergency reboot.]

It had freaked him out for a split second. But when he got home and saw me kneeling perfectly fine in the hallway, he assumed the underground clinic's app was just glitchy.

Thinking about Bates's nagging only irritated him further.

"Ungrateful little brat. I paid top dollar to have him fixed, and he still tries to run away."

Later that night, Dad walked up to my bedroom door and delivered his evening command.

"No sleeping tonight. Stand facing the door and reflect on your pathetic attempt to escape. Think about what you did wrong."

I nodded, shuffled over to the heavy oak door, and stood perfectly straight. I did not move a single muscle for the rest of the night.

When Dad woke up the next morning and saw me standing in the exact same spot, holding the exact same posture, a look of deep satisfaction washed over him.

"Now that is more like it. You are actually tolerable when you listen. Try to rebel again, and the punishment will be twice as harsh."

The Sunday afternoon sun was bright and warm.

Dad had invited a few of his country club friends over for drinks. They were gathered around the patio furniture by the garden, laughing loudly with cigars in hand.

Dad snapped his fingers, gesturing for me to come over. "Go play with Toby. Protect your brother. Do not let him get a single scratch on him. You hear me?"

"I hear you." My voice scraped out mechanically. I walked over to the lawn and trailed a few steps behind Toby, shadowing him like a silent ghost.

Toby ran over to the edge of the large decorative koi pond. He leaned over the slippery stone border, standing on his tiptoes to peer into the deep water.

"There is a shiny rock down there! I'm gonna get it!"

I said nothing. I just stood rooted to the grass, eyes locked onto his frame, my internal hardware running the 'protect' directive on an endless loop.

Suddenly, Toby's foot slipped on wet moss. He shrieked, tumbling backward into the deep end of the pond.

The water was over his head. He thrashed wildly, swallowing mouthfuls of dirty water. "Dad! Help! Help me!"

My body reacted with terrifying speed. Without a single second of hesitation, I launched myself into the freezing water.

The icy chill soaked through my clothes, but my nerve endings registered zero temperature. I grabbed Toby by the collar, kicking my legs to violently shove him up onto the stone ledge.

Dad and his friends rushed over just in time to see me pushing a coughing Toby onto the grass.

Once we were both dripping wet on the patio, Dad's friends began patting him on the back.

"Michael, your eldest boy is a brave one! Diving in like that without a second thought. You really know how to raise a man."

"Absolutely. So young, but he already knows how to step up and protect his family."

Dad puffed out his chest, hiding his smugness behind a fake, humble smile.

"Oh, please. It is just basic instinct. They are good boys. Bates! Get them upstairs for a hot shower before they catch a cold."

By dinner time, the guests had cleared out.

Dad stormed into my bedroom. Without a word of warning, he raised his hand and slapped me across the face. The sharp crack echoed loudly against the walls.

My head snapped to the side from the sheer force of the blow, but the burning sting of the strike never reached my brain.

"Who gave you permission to let him play near the deep water?" Dad roared, his face flushed with pure rage.

"Did you do that on purpose? Were you trying to drown him to get him out of the picture? You are lucky Toby is fine, or I swear to God I would end you!"

He raised his hand, fully intending to strike me again. But the moment his knuckles brushed against my cheek, he recoiled. He looked at his own hand in confusion.

"Why is your skin so freezing? You feel like a block of solid ice. Did you catch a fever or something?"

I offered no response. I just slowly turned my head back, staring at him with hollow, dead eyes.

"Useless trash. You can't even regulate your own body temperature, let alone protect your brother."

Dad sneered, wiping his hand on his trousers like I was diseased. "No dinner for you tonight. Stay in this room and think about how badly you failed today!"

"Understood, Dad."

Toby was peeking through the crack in the doorway. Seeing me get berated brought a wicked little smile to his face. He tugged at Dad's sleeve, playing the innocent angel.

"Dad, please don't be mad. Ben didn't mean it. I forgive him."

Dad's furious expression melted instantly. He crouched down and kissed Toby's forehead, his voice dripping with honey.

"Oh, my sweet Toby. You are too good for this world. Come on, let's go downstairs. I'll have the chef bake those chocolate lava cakes you love."

Dad took Toby's hand, turning his back on me completely. He shut the door without a second glance.

I stood completely still in the center of the room. After a full minute of silence, my heels pivoted mechanically. I walked into the dark corner of the room, assuming my standby position, quietly waiting for his next command.

The next morning, Dad's phone buzzed on the kitchen counter.

He picked it up, his voice immediately shifting into a loving purr. "Hey, honey. How is the business trip going?"

Mom's gentle voice drifted through the speaker. "It is going well. I just miss my boys so much. How is Ben doing? Has he adjusted to being home yet?"

Dad glanced over at me, a fake smile plastered across his face. "Ben is an angel. Completely obedient. He dropped all that teenage angst and even keeps Toby company while he does his homework. Such a mature kid now."

He held up his phone, snapping a picture of me sitting rigidly beside Toby at the study desk. He texted it to her. "See for yourself. Two brothers bonding over math problems."

Hearing Mom's voice, Toby dropped his pencil and rushed over to the phone. "Mom! I miss you! When are you coming back?"

Mom chuckled warmly on the other end. "My sweet boy. I miss you too. I will be home in a week, and I promise to bring you and your brother some amazing gifts."

Dad shoved the phone near my mouth, dropping his voice into a hushed command. "Say hi to Mom."

"Hi, Mom." I spoke mechanically. My pitch was entirely flat, devoid of any warmth or joy.

Mom paused. A trace of worry crept into her tone. "Is Ben okay? He sounds exhausted, and he looks incredibly pale in that photo. Is he sick?"

Dad snatched the phone back, laughing nervously to cover his tracks. "Oh, you know kids. He kicked his blankets off last night and caught a minor cold. I already gave him some meds. He will be totally fine by tomorrow. Do not stress yourself out."

"Okay, good. Make sure you take care of them, Michael. Don't let my boys get sick."

"I got it, babe. Focus on your meetings. Love you."

The second the call ended, Dad's warm smile vanished. He glared at me, his eyes full of venom.

"Next time your mother calls, you better act like you have a pulse. Stop giving me that miserable dead-fish look."

"Understood."

Ever since Mom's phone call, Toby's malice toward me escalated dramatically.

He would rip pages out of my textbooks and scatter them across the hallway floor. He would dump my expensive pens into the trash can, stomping on them for good measure.

When Dad saw the mess, he just shrugged it off. "Toby is just a kid. He is playful. You are the older brother. Just clean it up."

Following the standing directive, I crouched on the floor, picking up the shredded paper and fishing broken plastic out of the garbage.

The jagged edge of a ripped textbook sliced deep into my index finger. Dark, thick blood dripped onto the hardwood floor, but my face did not twitch.

I just kept sorting the trash, moving my bleeding hand with rhythmic precision. I did not stop until the desk was perfectly organized. Then, I sat back down in my chair, staring blankly at the wall.

As the days dragged on, I became nothing more than a puppet wired to Dad's voice.

If he did not give me a command, I would sit in the exact same posture for hours. I did not fidget. I did not blink. Even the sound of my breathing faded away into nothingness.

One night, Bates woke up to get a glass of water. He walked past my room and saw me standing in the dead center of the floor, wide awake, staring into the dark.

First thing the next morning, the butler confronted Dad.

"Sir, something is terribly wrong with Ben. He does not speak unless spoken to. He barely moves. Last night, he did not even sleep; he just stood in his room staring at the wall. Did that obedience camp do some sort of psychological damage to him?"

Dad was shaving by the sink. He wiped the foam off his chin, completely unconcerned.

"That is the whole point of the program, Bates. He is quiet. He follows orders. He stops causing drama in my house."

"But sir"

"I pay you to clean my house, not to play doctor," Dad snapped, pointing his razor at the old man. "Do your job and stop obsessing over him. You are forbidden from giving him any special treatment. Am I clear?"

Bates swallowed hard, his eyes full of sorrow. He bowed his head and quietly left the bathroom.

At dinner, I sat at the table, my jaw moving up and down in a stiff, unnatural rhythm as I chewed my boiled spinach.

Dad suddenly spoke, issuing a new directive. "Wake up early tomorrow. Accompany Toby to his piano lesson. Do you hear me?"

"I hear you."

I nodded slowly, returning to my mechanical chewing.

No one at the table noticed that the beds of my fingernails had already turned a sickly, bruised blue.