My Parents Outsourced Their Brains

Dad smiled, still holding his phone. The AI chatbot's blue screen glowed in his hand.

Mom munched on snacks beside him and nodded. "Exactly. This thing is artificial intelligence. It knows more than any Wellington or Prescott grad.

"This is the age of AI. What do you know? We're doing this for your future!"

Wellington and Prescott were the top universities in the country.

Ice shot through me. I couldn't stop shaking.

I snatched Dad's phone.

On-screen was the chatbot's "optimal" college application plan.

I had a 1450 SAT score.

That was solid.

But they'd deleted every school I picked and left only Wellington and Prescott.

"Are you serious?" I stared at them. "How am I supposed to get into either one with a 1450?"

Mom slammed the table. "What kind of attitude is that? The chatbot said you have a shot. If AI calculated the odds, how could it be wrong?"

Yeah. There was no reasoning with them.

I took a breath. Fighting them head-on would only make things worse.

I knew how this went. If I pushed too hard, they'd get mad, change my application password, hide the recovery code, and I'd be screwed.

I forced myself to calm down, dropped my gaze, and squeezed out a few tears.

"Mom, Dad... I overreacted." I sniffled and lowered my voice. "I'm just disappointed. But you're right. AI knows better than I do. If the chatbot says so, I'll go with it."

Mom finally softened, looking way too pleased with herself.

"That's better. Listen to your parents and learn to keep up. Now go to your room and think about what you did."

Dad relaxed too and patted my shoulder. "That's my boy. You really think I'd steer you wrong? Get some sleep. I'll make ribs tomorrow."

I nodded like the perfect son and went back to my room.

At eleven, my parents' snores rumbled from the living room.

I slipped out of bed without turning on the light and dug my account recovery code out from the back of my closet.

Then I pulled on my jacket, carried my shoes, and crept barefoot to the front door.

The lock clicked.

Way too loud.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

I eased the apartment door shut behind me and stepped into the empty hallway. Only then did I breathe again.

The application portal barely worked on my phone, so I sprinted a few blocks to a sketchy twenty-four-hour internet café.

The place reeked of stale coffee and cigarette smoke. Old computers hummed under flickering fluorescent lights.

I logged into the college application portal.

Email.

Password.

Then I saw what they'd done.

I almost cried.

This wasn't a college list. They were shoving me straight off a cliff.

I gritted my teeth and restored every school I'd originally picked.

Then I hit Submit.

A message popped up.

[Application submitted. No further changes can be made.]

Judging by the mess they'd made of my college list, they must've changed it over and over.

Thank God I'd played along until they dropped their guard.

I slumped into the chair, my back soaked with cold sweat.

Outside, the sky was pitch-black.

One thought cut through everything.

I'd saved myself.