“That and the fucking maid saw us come in earlier,” Sebastian pointed out. “We tried to write a note but couldn’t get the handwriting right. Then Bryce suggested—”
“AI voices,” he said with a smirk.
Bryce turned one of the phones on, unlocked it, and tapped something on the screen. Fred’s voice suddenly filled the room, startling me.
“This is the last will and testament of Frederick Castle. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. There are things that have been weighing on my conscience that I can’t move past. I’m sorry. I leave everything to my ex-wife. I leave no children behind. Goodbye, and I’m sorry.”
The room fell silent as we listened to what sounded exactly like the deceased man.
“How the...” Skye frowned.
“That’s unethical,” I shook my head. “And coming from artists—do better.”
Sebastian scrunched up his nose.
“Now, I’ve never used the stuff, and I probably never will again, because fuck AI. But I needed to cover up a murder, and this was the best idea we had. Can we all agree thatnoneof this is exactly ethical?”
“Okay, but the AI use might be worse than the murder.” I smirked. Skye crossed her arms across her chest and stayed close to me, keeping a united front.
Sebastian’s shoulders slumped, and he threw his hands up. “Well, by all means. Any better ideas?”
“We could try the note again.” Bryce shrugged. “My handwriting is shit.”
The room erupted into a small fight as we discussed other alternatives to covering up Fred’s untimely end.
It was oddly difficult to make the decision. AI stole from people like us. Artists. We kept going back to the ethics of AI use, and the more time that slipped away, the louder our voices grew.
“Do you know how bad it is for the environment, Sebastian?” Skye yelled.
“Okay, we’re not going with the AI!” I shouted over them.
They all turned to look at me.
“It’s too...icky. Let’s do something else. Actually... Come on. We’re going back.”
Returning to the scene of the crime, putting on the drunk act once more.
“Did it have to be a toaster?” I asked Bryce.
“It rhymed,” he protested. “Live, laugh...toaster bath.” The last bit drifted off in a whisper.
“Since when are you a poet?” Sebastian smirked.
“Hey, I’m more than just an ex-cowboy turned movie star. I have other interests.”
“Guys,” Skye warned. “We need to finish this. People probably saw us come in and out of the front. We need a good reason for it.”
“Right.” I nodded. Suddenly, Skye was the levelheaded one, and it was throwing me off.
“So, let’s fish the toaster out, and...” I looked around.
“Toss the blender in instead?” Sebastian suggested.
I started to say no, but then Skye interrupted.
“Actually, that would make sense. We make some margaritas, toss the blender in, then call the police. When they come, we’ll say we were drinking, having fun, and started to run low on margarita mix. Evie and I went back to Sebastian’s to look for some, but we took too long, and you two came to get us. We returned, empty-handed, only to find that he’d been so drunk, he’d tried to make the drinks while sitting on the ledge of the hot tub and slipped.”
We all stared at each other. Bryce lifted the phone with the AI voice recording again, waving it in the air.
