Tim ignored the weirdness, clicked "Accept," and suddenly, his hands moved on their own. He watched in a trance as he typed a brilliant, university-level analysis of 19th-century labor laws. He didn't even recognize the words he was using. He submitted the paper and closed his laptop, feeling a strange void in his chest.
The cursor blinked on the screen of "HistoryHelper.net." Tim was desperate. The essay on the industrial revolution was due in an hour, and his mind was a blank slate. He clicked a shady link labeled “GDZ: History & Social Studies – Grade 9 – ALL ANSWERS.” Tim ignored the weirdness, clicked "Accept," and suddenly,
Tim stood up. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He remembered the blacksmith in the essay, but he realized with a jolt of horror that he could no longer remember his own grandfather’s face. He knew his grandfather had been a craftsman, but the specific memory of his workshop—the smell of iron, the heat of the forge—was gone. He submitted the paper and closed his laptop,
Instead of a PDF, a chat box popped up. “What is the price of an A+?” it asked. Tim chuckled. “A five-minute survey?” he typed back. “No,” the screen flickered. “A memory.” He clicked a shady link labeled “GDZ: History