FIND
THE AI.

Story 1

“I’m telling you, something was holding on to my foot!”

Pete tried to look sympathetic, but he was tired of it. He had planned this walk for months, a route through some of the most spectacular hills in Scotland. He wanted laughter, a bit of challenge, a memory to keep. Instead, Steve had spent the whole trip finding things to complain about — the midges, the blisters, the weather, the food.

Now it was ghosts. During the night, Steve claimed, something had grabbed his foot and refused to let go. He said he had hardly slept and would be heading straight home. The bus back to Glasgow stopped outside the hotel, he said, and it would be passing just after breakfast. Convenient, Pete thought.

When the bus pulled away, the others stood watching the taillights vanish along the road. No one said much, but the silence felt easier somehow.

The clouds broke. The loch brightened. Someone laughed about nothing in particular.

Steve had gone, and the day finally opened up.

Story 2

Martha walked the same route to work for thirty-two years. This morning, the man who sold the Big Issue outside the station wasn’t there. The street was empty. No buses. No cars. Just the wind. Her phone had no signal. The lights were stuck on red. She crossed anyway. The station was deserted. One train sat at the platform, doors open, lights on. No driver. No passengers. She got on. The doors closed behind her. The train didn’t move. She sat down and waited. Footsteps came down the carriage. Slow.

Deliberate. She didn’t turn around. A voice said, “You’re early.”Martha closed her eyes. “I know.”The footsteps stopped. The train stayed still. And Martha sat there, waiting for something she had always known was coming, but had never believed would arrive on time

Story 3

Archie drove the last screw into the cabinet. John handed him a beer, and the two men sat on the shed’s couch, admiring their work.

‘ARCHIE!’ The cry came from across the fence. His wife.

John looked awkward and began to stand. Archie gestured for him to stay put.

‘ARCHIE!’ The second shout was sharper, more shrill.

Archie took a long swallow of his beer. ‘John,’ he said, ‘I’d like to thank you for being a wonderful neighbour, and for the laughs we have had.’ Then he left the shed.

John went to clear up, then realised that Archie still had the screwdriver.

‘There you are, Archie?’ said his wife. ‘Archie?’