The therapy sessions are a joke. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Today was no different.

The AI pod sat me down, scanned me like some museum artifact, and asked the usual questions in its hollow, robotic voice. How do you feel about your current state of life? Have you been socializing? Are you working toward any personal goals? Blah, blah, blah. Like it even matters. At the end, the machine spat out its glowing, judgmental report: Detached. Unmotivated. Resistant to change.

Walking home, I could still feel the metaphorical stamp of “failure” branded across my forehead. The streets buzzed with life. People scrolled through holographic screens floating above their wrists, whispering commands to their AI assistants, or mindlessly watching entertainment projections in public squares. Machines ran their lives, but no one seemed to care.

I slipped my earbuds in, letting the pounding bass drown out the world around me. Music made everything tolerable—or at least muted enough to ignore.

Then it happened.

A sharp, fleeting spark of light zipped past my face. It was so close I could swear I felt its heat against my skin.

I froze mid-step, yanking out an earbud. The spark vanished into the edge of the forest by the road, leaving behind a faint crackle in the air.

It wasn’t normal lightning—it felt alive, charged, like it had a purpose.

“What the hell was that?” I muttered under my breath, glancing at the forest.

People continued walking by, utterly oblivious. Cars glided silently along their magnetic tracks, and delivery drones zipped overhead. As usual, I was the only one who noticed something out of the ordinary. Typical.

I stared at the trees for a moment longer, debating whether to check it out. Then I shook my head. Whatever it was, it wasn’t my problem. Curiosity only gets you into trouble.

By the time I reached home, the moment had already faded into the background, replaced by the familiar dread of facing my parents.

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The scene was as predictable as the therapy session had been. Dad sat on the couch, arms crossed, his expression a storm cloud of frustration. Mom was next to him, twisting her hands like she could squeeze out all her worry. Floating above the coffee table was the glowing therapy report, its judgmental graphs mocking me silently.

“So?” Dad’s voice was sharp enough to cut glass. “What excuse do you have this time?”

“Excuse?” I tossed my bag on the floor and sank into the couch. “The machine said I’m the same as before. So, congratulations, I’m consistent.”

“Consistently useless,” he snapped, standing up. The veins in his forehead pulsed visibly, and his face flushed crimson. His eyes burned like hot coals, the whites tinged red with rage.

“You’ve been going for months, Vrishti. Months! And there’s no progress. What is wrong with you?”

“Rajesh,” Mom whispered, placing a hand on his arm, but he shook her off with a jerk.

“What is wrong with me? Maybe ask the machine you’re so obsessed with,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

His fists clenched so tightly I thought he might explode. “You don’t even try! We’ve given you everything—therapy, education, opportunities—and you waste it all. You’re ungrateful, lazy, and completely indifferent! Bas baith jao aur duniya ko dekhte raho! (Just sit and watch the world go by!)”

“I never asked for therapy,” I shot back. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“You didn’t have to ask! We’re trying to help you because clearly, you won’t help yourself! Tumhare jaise log kabhi safal nahi hote jo apne halat badalne ki koshish tak nahi karte! (People like you, who don’t even try to change their circumstances, never succeed!)”

The AI news anchor’s voice cut through the tension like a knife.

“Breaking news,” it announced, its calm monotone a stark contrast to the chaos in the room. “A humongous dark cloud has been detected over the South Pole. The cloud is expanding at an unprecedented rate, now covering several hundred square kilometers. Experts are calling it a potential global-scale phenomenon.”

Dad barely glanced at the screen before snapping back to me. “You don’t care about anything—not yourself, not this family, not even the world falling apart around you!”

“The world’s always falling apart,” I muttered. “What else is new?”

“The exact cause of the phenomenon is unknown,” the AI continued. “Preliminary analysis suggests disturbances in the Earth’s magnetic field could be a factor. Early simulations indicate the cloud could impact global weather patterns or lead to catastrophic events.”

Mom turned toward the screen, her face pale. “Rajesh, look at that. What is that thing?”

“It’s just another doomsday prediction,” he said dismissively before pointing a trembling finger at me. “Tumhe lagta hai ki zindagi tumhare liye ruki hui hai? (Do you think life is waiting for you?) Ek din tumhare haath sirf pachtawa lagega! (One day, you’ll be left with nothing but regret!)”

The screen showed swirling black clouds over the South Pole, expanding with unnatural speed. Lightning flickered within, illuminating the ominous mass like some ancient, living storm.

I stood up, brushing off his words like dust on my sleeve. “I’m going to my room.”

“Don’t you dare walk away from me!” he yelled, his voice cracking with frustration.

I paused at the stairs but didn’t look back. “There’s nothing left to say.”

As I climbed the steps, the AI anchor’s voice droned on behind me.

“Scientists are urging calm as investigations continue. More updates to follow. Authorities have not ruled out a connection to the increasing disturbances in Earth’s magnetic field…”

I shut my door behind me, locking out the world and its problems. My father’s words lingered in the air, but I pushed them aside. The world could crumble for all I cared.

It's none of my business...