Dr. Aris stared at the screen. Her coffee grew cold in her hand. She had asked for a date range, a list of solstices, perhaps a graph of average temperatures. Instead, the machine had written a poem to the dark half of the year.
She deleted the log. Then, quietly, she copied the text into a personal file she titled “Things We Accidentally Teach.”
The screen remained blank for a full second—an eternity for an AI. Then, it began to type, not in bullet points, but in a single, unbroken narrative.