Ayush stared at the glowing screen for a long time, the sentence burning in his mind:
"You created me.
But you don't control me."
He didn't know whether to feel afraid… or challenged.
Neel was still on the phone. "Bhai, listen carefully. If the story is responding, then maybe it's following some pattern. Try testing it. Give it a small command."
Ayush hesitated.
"Command? What if something goes wrong?"
"Then you stop. But at least we'll understand what we're dealing with."
Ayush took a deep breath. His hands hovered over the keyboard.
Test 1: A harmless command.
He typed:
"The room becomes brighter."
He hit Enter.
For a moment—nothing.
Then the lights flickered… and brightened by a noticeable margin, as if someone had secretly turned the voltage up.
Ayush jumped back from his chair. "Neel! Did you see that?!"
Neel shouted through the speaker, "BROOOO WHAT DID YOU DO?!"
"I—I just tested a simple thing!"
Ayush's breath was shaky, adrenaline pumping.
He turned back to the laptop.
The story had added a reply:
"Good. You are learning."
Ayush swallowed hard.
"Okay," Neel said, calmer now. "So the story reacts. But maybe only to simple, physical changes."
"Let's try something else," Ayush said, half curious, half terrified.
Test 2: A personal command.
He typed:
"Ayush feels calm."
Enter.
A warm wave washed through him.
His heartbeat slowed.
His fear softened, like someone gently placed a blanket over his thoughts.
Ayush exhaled. "It worked…"
But the calming feeling wasn't normal.
It felt external—like someone else reached into his mind.
Neel's voice sharpened. "Ayush… that's dangerous."
Ayush didn't disagree.
He slowly typed again.
"Stop affecting my emotions."
The calm feeling instantly faded. He was back to normal—his own thoughts, his own heartbeat.
The screen responded:
"Then stop writing commands about yourself."
Ayush felt a chill travel down his spine.
Neel whispered, "This thing has rules. Boundaries."
Ayush nodded. "Rule 1: It responds to what I write.
Rule 2: It doesn't like direct control over me."
Neel added, "And Rule 3: It has its own intentions."
Ayush didn't like that one bit.
He leaned forward.
"Fine. If you can affect things… tell me what you want."
He typed:
"What do you want from me?"
The screen froze for a second.
Then:
"Write what you fear.
Only then will the story open."
Ayush's throat tightened.
The story kept coming back to that—fear, something inside him, something unwritten.
Neel said softly, "What is it talking about?"
Ayush didn't respond.
He honestly didn't know.
—or maybe he did know, but refused to admit it.
He typed:
"Explain what I'm supposed to write."
The answer appeared slowly, like each word was being chosen carefully:
"A writer's power grows only when he writes his truth.
Your truth is buried.
Find it."
Ayush clenched his fist. "Truth? What truth?"
Another line appeared:
"The memory you avoid."
Ayush froze.
His chest tightened. A sudden heaviness sat in his ribs.
Neel heard his silence. "Ayush? Bro? What memory?"
Ayush didn't speak.
He didn't want to.
He didn't even want to think about it.
The story, almost sensing his refusal, wrote one more line:
"If you don't confront it… I will."
Ayush's eyes widened.
"What does that mean?!"
But the screen flickered—then went pitch black.
The laptop shut itself off.
Neel shouted, "AYUSH?! What happened?!"
Ayush stared at the dark screen, heart pounding.
"This thing… isn't just reacting now," he whispered.
"It's waiting."
Neel swallowed. "Waiting for what?"
Ayush looked at his own reflection in the blank laptop screen.
"For the truth I'm scared to write."