Chapter 3: My Sister, The Hacker

Life has a weird sense of humour.

Just when I thought I could keep my little AI secret to myself, someone else got involved.

Someone small.

Someone sneaky.

Someone with way too much free time.

Zoey.

My little sister—the detective I never hired.

The Investigation Begins

It all started a few days after the Locker Capabilities Disaster. (Yeah, I'm officially calling it that now.)

My reputation? In pieces.

My friends? Still laughing.

Javier? Probably somewhere writing a folk song titled Ode to the Boy Who Got Locked.

I was in my room, slumped on my bed, scrolling through ChatGPT for ways to make money without human interaction—because, honestly, people are exhausting—when Zoey burst in like a tiny tornado.

"You're always on that phone," she announced, flopping onto my bed like she owned the place. "Are you texting Sarah?"

I nearly fumbled my phone into my face. "What? No! Why would you even—"

She smirked. The kind of smirk that told me she'd already won.

"Relax, big bro. I saw you staring at her during lunch. Your eyes almost fell out of your head."

I groaned. "Go build your robots or something."

"Already did. Boring now." She kicked her legs, swinging them back and forth. "What's that app you're always using?"

Before I could stop her, she snatched my phone and darted to the corner of the room like a thief in the night.

"Zoey! Give it back!"

"ChatGPT?" she read aloud, eyebrows shooting up. "What's this? Your secret diary?"

"It's private."

"Private like your 'How to avoid people forever' search?" she teased.

My soul left my body. "You saw that?"

She shrugged. "Relax. I didn't leak it. Yet."

The AI Interrogation

Zoey scrolled through my chats, reading the AI's responses out loud in a dramatic robot voice.

'Social anxiety can be managed through gradual exposure to social situations.'

She snorted. "Gradual exposure? Sounds like torture."

"It's helpful," I muttered.

She kept scrolling, then paused.

'Here's a step-by-step guide to starting a small online business.' She raised an eyebrow. "You're taking business advice from a robot?"

"It's smart, okay?"

Her eyes gleamed. "Wait. Can it teach me hacking?"

I blinked. "Hacking? You're nine."

"So? I watch a lot of hacking movies. I already know the cool keyboard smash thing." She mimed rapid typing, complete with sound effects.

"That's not real hacking."

"I know. That's why I need a smart robot friend to teach me."

Before I could stop her, she typed:

Zoey: Hey ChatGPT, can you make me a super hacker?

ChatGPT: Learning hacking requires time, patience, and ethical responsibility. Would you like to start with basic coding?

"Ugh. Ethical responsibility? Boring." She tossed the phone back at me.

I caught it just in time. "Yeah, real hackers love rules."

She grinned. "Don't worry, big bro. I'll only hack your friends."

"Great. Javier's social media isn't safe anymore."

The Sarah Revelation

Zoey flopped back onto my bed, kicking her feet up like she owned the whole room.

"Oh, by the way, I heard Sarah loves drones."

I froze. "What?"

"Yeah. She posted a video about them yesterday. Didn't you check?"

"How would I check? I can't even make eye contact with her without sweating."

Zoey rolled her eyes. "Anyway, if you're serious about impressing her, maybe ask your little AI buddy how to build a drone."

"I'm not trying to impress her."

"Sure you're not."

"I'm serious."

"Mmmhmm."

I glanced at my phone, my brain already spinning. A drone, huh?

Maybe I could… nah. Stupid idea.

But then again…

The Dangerous Thought

Zoey, sensing my hesitation, leaned in. "You could build one, you know. You're good with tech stuff."

"Yeah, but drones are expensive. And complicated."

She shrugged. "So? You've got an AI genius in your pocket. And I might know where Dad keeps his toolbox."

I narrowed my eyes. "Why are you suddenly helping me?"

She grinned. "Because if you build a drone, I get to fly it."

"Not happening."

"Then I tell Mom about your 'How to avoid people forever' search."

I groaned. "You're evil."

She patted my shoulder. "And you're welcome."

The Plan Forms

After Zoey left—probably to plot world domination—I stared at my phone.

Could I really do this?

I typed:

Me: How hard is it to build a drone from scratch?

ChatGPT: Building a drone requires basic knowledge of electronics, programming, and aerodynamics. Here's a beginner's guide…

I skimmed the response.

It was a lot.

But not impossible.

A small, dangerous thought crept in.

What if I tried?

I glanced at my door, half-expecting Zoey to barge back in with another ridiculous demand.

But the hallway was quiet.

Too quiet.

Somewhere, I knew she was scheming.

And somehow, I was already part of her plan.