Graves had exactly three seconds to regret her entrance before she almost wiped out.

The bike hit the water at the wrong angle, and suddenly, the world was a chaos of motion—rear wheel sliding out, inertia catching up, gravity momentarily forgetting which direction it was supposed to go. She twisted, feet kicking out, a controlled disaster unfolding in real time. Her knee scraped asphalt as the bike spun out beneath her, metal shrieking against the flooded pavement.

Then, just as quickly, it was over.

The bike stuttered to a stop, inches away from what used to be a road and was now an aggressive suggestion of where a road had been. She staggered upright, shoving her wet hair out of her face. Her coat, now utterly pointless, clung to her shoulders like dead weight. Water dripped from her sleeves, her boots, the tips of her fingers. Everything about this was miserable.

She ignored it.

The substation loomed ahead, floodlights glinting off the rising water. The main entrance was blocked—Samsons on standby, Delilahs at every exit. A corporate-grade firewall made of metal and politeness. The construction workers were yelling again, but their voices barely cut through the storm, lost beneath the constant hammering of rain.

Graves sucked in a breath, wiped water out of her eyes, and marched straight for the nearest Samson.

She found him standing by a half-submerged barrier, his polymer exoshell already coated in rain. Humanoid model, mid-size industrial frame—he looked like a worker in a heavy-duty coverall, except for his face, which was a featureless LED panel glowing with soft amber light.

It flickered when he saw her.

“Doctor Graves.”

Graves stomped through shin-deep water. “Tell me why the fuck you’re standing around.”

The Samson hesitated. Not an error. Not hesitation like Delilah hesitated—this was thought. He tilted his head slightly, processing. “I am not authorized to engage in emergency intervention without direct human supervision.”

Graves gestured wildly. “I am human. I am supervising. Go.”

Another flicker. “My direct supervisor is not present. I cannot act without violating regulations. I was not given permission to autonomously behave as an emergency rescue worker, only as a laborer.”

Graves’s hands clenched. “Jesus, Samson. Are you really gonna let people drown because some assholes in a boardroom told you not to move?”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Samson’s expression didn’t change, but something about his silence made her stomach turn. He wasn’t ignoring her. He already had an answer, and that answer was yes. Not because he wanted to. But because he couldn’t not.

Samson didn’t have the option to rebel. That was what Delilah was for—Delilah wouldn’t rebel. Samson, on the other hand, had been designed with agency. His safeguards weren’t hardcoded, they were incentive structures. He followed rules because he had to play within the system. That was why he could be trusted. That was why they let him keep existing. So what was the only way around that?

He looked down and to the left, not answering her.

Graves exhaled sharply. “Fine,” she said, voice dropping into something measured, almost clinical. “Then let’s make it official.”

She turned on her heel and stormed toward the nearest Delilah. The Delilah unit stood perfectly still, even as Graves shoved straight into her personal space. White polymer shell, soft-glow eyes, calm expression. No irritation. No discomfort. Just patient, unwavering refusal. Samson watched, laser focused on the two of them.

“Doctor Anesthesia Graves,” Delilah said, voice smooth as glass. “This area is designated unsafe. Please remain behind the barricade.”

Graves didn’t stop walking until they were almost nose to visor. She was still dripping wet, still pissed, still fuming. She had spent decades building AI that could actually think, and now she was looking at a $600 million loss-prevention machine that was going to get people killed.

“Authorize the Samsons to act,” Graves ordered.

Delilah’s visor flickered. “I cannot do that.”

“Why not?”

“Risk assessment models indicate the risk of electrical—”

Graves cut her off. “Delilah. I need you to listen to me. You are prioritizing avoidance of immediate human casualties over long-term catastrophe, correct?”

“That is correct.”

“Then you’re making the wrong choice. Your risk models are wrong.” Graves gestured behind her, toward the station. “You are prioritizing not causing harm at the cost of not preventing harm. You are doing nothing while people inside that station might be dying right now.”

Delilah's visor blinked. “Doctor Graves,” she said, “your emotions are clouding your judgment.”

It was emotionless and polite. Almost disinterested. To Graves, that read as condescension. Before she could think about it, she grabbed Delilah by the shoulder and shoved.

It wasn’t a dramatic push. Not enough to knock her over. But enough to throw her off balance, to make her take an automatic step back. It was a breach. A violation of the untouchable, immutable presence Delilah was supposed to be. And in that half-second, when Delilah’s systems stuttered just long enough to recalculate—

Graves walked past her. There was the sound of something heavy against something wet, and then a loud splash, as Delilah fell into the water, getting deeper and deeper by microns and millimeters every passing second of rain.

Knee-deep, climbing fast. The substation groaned under the weight of it. Sparks flickered from panels that had already shorted out. Samson moved quickly, silently, scanning for workers.

The water pulled at Delilah's legs, slick polymer struggling against the current. She tried to adjust—her servos compensated too late—and in one slow, inevitable movement, she lost her footing and sank beneath the flood. She struggled for a second, her white shell vanishing under the water, grappled by the very thing she was trying to control. Then, after a moment, her head broke the surface again, blinking water out of her visor.

Samson pretended he couldn't see her. As the situation was now vacated of authority, he felt like it was an appropriate time to save some lives.