5

The aroma of roasted chicken and thyme filled the house, a mockery of normalcy that Cass barely registered. Across the table, Elaine sat diminished, her vibrancy stolen by the disease that had claimed residence in her body. The chemotherapy's devastation rivaled the cancer's, yet somehow she maintained her smile—a fragile gesture that wounded him more deeply than tears.

"Pass the bread, please," Elaine whispered, her voice gossamer-thin.

Cass extended the basket, unable to fully steady his trembling hand. Each moment felt measured now, precious seconds sliding away like water. Their guests, Melissa and Jin, occupied the other chairs—Jin incongruous in his police uniform with its black epaulettes, having come directly from his shift. Melissa's gaze moved between hosts with careful sympathy, searching for words that didn't exist.

"So, Jin, still working extra shifts?" Cass forced the question past his lips, hating the pretense of ordinary conversation.

"Yeah, things are a bit mad right now, well you remember how it could get. Especially with the referendum coming up." The words escaped before Melissa's warning glance could catch them.

Cass's fingers whitened around his wineglass. "The referendum."

Jin shifted, recognizing his misstep. "Yeah, extra shifts for the vote. Protests. It's...uh...big, you know?"

"Big." The word emerged dangerous and low. Anger rose in him like a tide, one he had neither ability nor desire to contain. "That's one way to say it."

"Cass..." Elaine's voice carried a gentle plea that he ignored.

"I mean, look at where we are," he continued, volume rising with each word. "We've got Nova doing everything for us. Driving our cars, diagnosing our illnesses...even deciding who gets to live and who doesn't. And we're supposed to just trust it? Give it the right to life? How the hell did we get here?"

Melissa's eyes darted between husband and wife. "Cass, it's not like that. The referendum's about—"

"I know what it's about!" The words exploded from him. "It's about giving these things power. More power than they already have. Do you know what that means? It means we're handing over everything! And for what? Convenience?"

Elaine's fragile fingers brushed his hand. "Cass, please. Let's just have dinner. I don't want to spend what time we have left fighting."

He withdrew from her touch, unable to meet her gaze. "I can't, Elaine. I can't just sit here and pretend like everything's fine when it's not."

Jin set his fork down with deliberate care. "Look, Cass, I get it. I really do. But this isn't healthy. Blaming AI for everything...it's not going to change what happened."

"What happened?" Bitter laughter scraped from his throat. "What happened is that AI killed my wife."

Silence descended. Elaine studied her plate, long since reconciled to her diagnosis in a way Cass couldn't fathom. The missed diagnosis festered in his mind like an untreated wound.

"Cass, it's no one's fault," Elaine murmured. "It's just...what happened."

"No, Elaine." He surged to his feet, chair screeching against floor. "It's not just 'what happened.' If a human had been looking at those scans, they would have seen it. They would have caught it. But no, we trusted some goddamn machine to do the job, and now...now you're dying."

Elaine's eyes glistened, but she held the tears at bay. Melissa's hand found hers across the table.

"You can't keep holding onto this anger, Cass," Jin said, rising to match him. "It's not helping anyone. Least of all you."

Before conscious thought could intervene, Cass's hand struck out, connecting with Jin's chest. His friend stumbled backward, shock replacing composure.

Melissa rose swiftly, drawing Elaine with her. "That's enough, Cass," she said, voice unsteady. "We're leaving."

Cass stood frozen, chest heaving, hand still resonating from the impact. Jin's expression mixed pity with anger as he helped Melissa gather their belongings. Elaine, too exhausted for conflict, allowed herself to be guided from the room, leaving only silence and Cass's ragged breathing behind.