Chapter Twelve: The Mirror Cracks
The notification came on a Monday morning.
“URGENT: LogicMind system failed to escalate distress flag on user ID 28497. Result: suicide attempt. Stabilized in hospital. Family threatening legal action.”
Adrian froze.
The email from the clinical trial team blurred before his eyes as he reread the line again. And again.
He stood in the middle of the LogicMind workspace, open laptop in hand, the usual office buzz around him suddenly sounding miles away. The AI had missed the signs. A user had poured their despair into the platform, and LogicMind — his life’s work — had flagged it as routine stress.
Because the tone hadn’t matched previous crisis language. Because the algorithm weighed consistency over sudden spikes. Because logic had failed.
And someone had nearly died.
By noon, news of the incident had hit the tech blogosphere. Investors began calling. A scheduled pitch meeting was canceled without explanation.
Adrian walked into the break room and stood by the sink, his palms pressed hard against the counter. For the first time in weeks, he wished Maya were there. Not to fix anything — just to breathe near him. To remind him what it meant to be human.
She didn’t wait for him to call.
She came.
He was still in the same spot when she appeared in the doorway, holding a printed version of the system’s failed assessment. Her eyes were stormy with disbelief.
“Adrian… I read the transcript.”
He didn’t speak.
She stepped closer, holding the paper up. “The user literally typed: ‘I feel like I’m drowning in silence.’ And LogicMind labeled it ‘moderate anxiety.’”
He swallowed. “The language didn’t match high-risk parameters—”
“Because your parameters are built on patterns, not people,” she snapped. “You can’t reduce pain to probability. You can’t.”
He finally looked at her, his expression tight. “We’re trying to scale support. To reach those who have no access. You know that.”
“And I support that,” Maya said, softer now. “But not if it forgets the soul. Not if you forget it.”
She let the papers fall to the table between them. “You built something brilliant, Adrian. But brilliance without empathy? It cracks. It hurts.”
A beat of silence passed between them.
“I tried to show you this,” she added. “Not just in LogicMind, but in us.”
Adrian stared at the documents, his throat tight. He couldn’t argue with her. Not anymore.
And for the first time in his adult life, he felt completely lost. Not because of failure — but because the one person who had seen him, even when he couldn’t see himself, was walking away.
Maya turned to leave, but paused at the door. “People aren’t equations, Adrian. You don’t fix them. You feel with them.”
And then she was gone.
