“Shit—shitshitshit,” Ethan muttered, already spinning toward the exit. His foot slipped on loose rock, nearly sending him sprawling. He caught himself on a jagged outcropping and shoved off, heart hammering so loud he could barely hear anything else.

  CelestOS began counting down.

  CelestOS 4.2: Evacuation window: one hundred twenty seconds. One hundred nineteen. One hundred eighteen.

  “Shut up! I get it!” he shouted, slipping again as the cave trembled. A chunk of the ceiling gave way behind him with a sharp crack and a spray of dust. He ducked reflexively, coughing as grit filled his mouth and nose. The tunnel ahead looked twice as long now, like it was mocking him. He staggered into a run.

  [Skill: Athletics 6→7]

  Ethan felt a burst of energy as he ran; The timely level-up made him move much faster than he’d been expecting; still, he didn’t dally and quickly he ran. Hard and fast. Faster than he had any right to, considering how tired he was. His legs ached, his lungs were nothing but fire. But he didn’t stop, he didn’t lose his pace. He put one foot in front of the other and booked it.

  Before he knew it, Ethan stumbled out of the cave just as a violent jet of heat roared from behind him, searing the air with a sound like a rocket engine. He dove forward, the back of his suit catching the edge of the blast. Alarms flared, and his visor tinted hard as the temperature spiked. He landed on his side, coughing, rolling once before scrambling to his feet. No time to check the damage. He was still alive. Barely.

  CelestOS 4.2: Congratulations! You have narrowly avoided vaporization.

  He didn’t answer. Just staggered on, muttering something obscene under his breath. It took nearly half an hour of constant running, but before he knew it he had run all the way back into the landing site, each step digging into reserves of energy he didn't know he possessed. His throat screamed in agony for water, but that could wait until after he saved Reyes.

  His battered suit whined in protest, each step kicking up lazy red eddies of dust that had settled after the storm. Ethan gasped raggedly, but it was nothing compared to the weak, shallow, dying gasps of the other man. He lay motionless by the pod, his breathing erratic, ragged, and wet.

  “Hang in there, man,” Ethan muttered, barely able to hear himself over the pounding in his skull. He dropped to one knee beside Reyes, chest heaving and his fingers shaking. Reyes's leg had completely bled through the tourniquet, a sight that made Ethan’s stomach lurch as bile climbed his throat.

  Ethan had managed to run so fast, CelestOS had trouble keeping up. As he checked on Reyes, a low mechanical hum drifted into earshot; a smooth, smug, and somehow calm noise, like its owner knew it was being noticed. Just what Ethan needed with a new threat on every corner. Ethan lifted his head in time to see CelestOS’s floating body gliding towards the two of them like a corporate-branded angel of death, haloed by the soft blue glow of its power core.

  The AI’s housing floated several feet off the ground, its glossy panels reflecting orange sunlight in multiple directions. And in its grasp were all the supplies Ethan had gathered since leaving relative security almost an hour prior. The material he had struggled and bled for. It opened its secret compartment, revealing the goodies within like a broken pi?ata.

  “Finally, let’s make this thing,” Ethan breathed, reaching out a trembling hand toward the floating components. His heart was beating its own symphony, each beat feeling ready to jump free of its confinement. As he moved closer, he felt the excitement, a mixture of hope and wild desperation.

  But, as if sensing his need, or maybe just fucking with him, CelestOS drifted just out of reach, hovering high above the man. The voice, loud through its speakers, was saccharinely sweet; the corporate tone so polished, it could have been a company video on following protocol.

  CelestOS: Per Celestitech regulatory code 5.2.4, Subsection Omega, fabrication of medical-grade devices requires completion of Medical Compliance Survey 7-11B. Please comply to proceed further.

  Ethan froze, staring incredulously at the broken AI.

  “What?” His voice cracked, the way it does when one is emotionally attacked in ways they’re not prepared for. “Are— Are you kidding me? Reyes is about to die. We don’t have time for this bullshit!”

  The AI didn’t even react to his outburst. It didn’t have a face or eyes, but Ethan could tell that somehow it was attempting a smile.

  CelestOS: Thank you for your concern. Please begin the survey.

  The words were calm, cheerful, the exact same tone it had used when Ethan’s pod was about to slam into the dirt at terminal velocity. Like a weather forecast warning of impending doom. His fists clenched at his sides, a red heat suffused his being, and the pounding in his skull synced with Reyes’s failing heartbeat.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  He wanted to throw or hit something. The ground, the wreckage, the whole damn planet. But he knew he needed to calm himself. Before things got worse. Because when anger was involved, things always got worse.

  As if on cue, Reyes let out a brittle, wet wheeze, as if he were on his very last legs. His own oxygen monitor let out a ping, letting him know it was time to refill his own oxygen. He was out of time; anger could wait.

  “Fine!” Ethan snapped, letting out just a little of the anger. “Fine! Just give me the damn survey. I’ll do whatever you want, just let me save him.”

  CelestOS’s glow pulsed in what may have been approval.

  CelestOS: Excellent. Please note, survey completion is mandatory. Failure to comply will result in temporary suspension of fabrication services and a 63% decrease in survival probability. Let’s begin!

  Another cheery jingle played from CelestOS’s speakers as Ethan glanced towards Reyes. C’mon, you stupid robot, hurry it up, he thought.

  CelestOS: How satisfied are you with your Celestitech survival experience so far? A) Very satisfied, B) Satisfied, C) Dissatisfied, D) Extremely dissatisfied.

  The words flashed across his HUD in blinding blue text. Ethan flicked his eyes through each option, highlighting the one he wanted to take. As tempting as it was to select D, Ethan wasn’t crazy and knew that if he pressed that, the AI would react in an unpredictable way. He stared at the other options, feeling his anger trying to rise again, but he clamped the lid down on the metaphorical pot.

  CelestOS hovered just off to his right, patiently waiting for the response, its open compartment displaying the materials he needed to save Reyes tantalizingly close, just out of reach.

  Despite his better judgment, he knew the only real option was to select A, so he did. Without even a pause, it continued, the next question appearing as it spoke.

  CelestOS: Question 2: Do you acknowledge that Celestitech medical products are not intended for recreational use, and that misuse may result in spontaneous organ failure and/or rupture?

  Ethan balked at the question. A man was dying, a "non-expendable" one according to the source of this very survey. If this was how important people were treated… Well, he already knew how CelestOS treated him. He knew this was CelestOS’s way of yanking his leash, showing him who was really in control of everything. But still, it made his eyes bulge.

  “Yes, goddamnit, who would want to get high at a time like this? Are you crazy?”

  CelestOS responded again, completely unfazed by the outburst, its voice fluttering in the wind like a silken flag.

  CelestOS: Celestitech is committed to user well-being. This survey helps us enhance that experience. Question 3: In the event of adverse side effects such as vomiting, hallucinations, or existential dread, do you agree to hold Celestitech harmless under the universal liability clause 87.712?

  Ethan’s patience was already thin. It was like these questions didn't care; it was like the AI didn't care that someone was about to die at its hands. The knot in his stomach tightened with each infuriating question, the metallic taste of bile sharp on his tongue.

  “Yes!” he screamed, wild eyes, spitting through cracked lips. “Yes, just give me the fucking meds. He’s going to die.”

  CelestOS: Question 4: Have you understood the Celestitech medical device handling manual, which is available in PDF and audiobook format upon request?

  “YES! I understand everything! Please, for the love of God, just give me the supplies. He’s going to die.”

  The AI didn’t flinch or respond at all.

  CelestOS: Question 4 (repeated due to non-standard response): Have you understood the Celestitech medical device handling manual, which is available in PDF and audiobook format upon request?

  Jesus, how many of these are there? Can we just, I don't know, say I agree to them all? “Yes, damnit all!”

  Reyes was literally flatlining. The man looked so pale Ethan could practically see through his skin. He was inches from death, and this corporate stooge was going to let a survey kill him. His gasps were tiny now, the life barely in him.

  CelestOS: Question 5: In the event of your own death during this procedure, do you waive the right for your next of kin to pursue legal action against Celestitech and its affiliates?

  “Yes, yes, you crazy thing, just let me save the man!”

  For a moment, Ethan thought he had finally broken through to the machine's broken heart. Reyes let out another feeble whimper of air.

  The memories he had been avoiding flooded back in that instant. A hospital bed. That face so familiar, and yet so wrong. The twisted ravages of the disease coursing through the man’s body. Ethan forced the memories away and then crouched next to Reyes to check his vitals. The man’s HUD was at 1%. He was clinging to life, not letting go, but what would it matter if this insane robot didn’t budge?

  Prior to this moment, he had been ambivalent towards Celestitech and their proprietary flagship AI, but this was the last straw. The perpetually cheerful, perky tone of a satisfied customer service agent came out of the robot.

  CelestOS: Final Question: On a scale of 1 to 5, how would you rate your satisfaction with this compliance survey process?

  Ethan’s mouth dropped open, half in disbelief, half in relief. A strangled, bitter laugh escaped him, sounding more like a sob than anything else. His vision swam with pain, exhaustion, and blood loss. But this, this was what broke him.

  “Five. It’s a fucking five, now give me my damn stuff!” he practically cried as he slumped forward in exhaustion, his helmet clacking against the side of Reyes’s ship.

  CelestOS dinged one more time, and the music stopped as it said:

  CelestOS: Thank you for your compliance. Survey complete! Fabrication resuming.

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