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Chapter 3: Bob Dont Care

  Morning again. Red eyes. Car image still wrong.

  Bob walks in. Looks fresh. Smiles normal.

  "Still working on car?" He drops bag. Sits down.

  Nod. Show screen. Car hood looks bent. Mountains floating.

  Face feels swollen. Eyes burn constantly.

  Eyelids heavy like weights. Opening hurts.

  Bob's clean clothes mock me.

  Fresh shave. Fresh breath. Fresh life.

  His existence seems impossible now.

  How leave office? How sleep?

  How escape screen's constant pull?

  His morning cheerfulness hurts ears.

  Voice too loud. Too normal.

  Bag dropping sounds like explosion.

  Chair creaking sounds like screaming.

  Show car image. Still wrong.

  Been fixing all night. Nothing works.

  Hood curves wrong way. Physically impossible.

  Mountains floating above horizon. Defying gravity.

  Blood vessels visible in eyes.

  Mirror showed earlier. Completely red now.

  Like horror movie character. Like zombie.

  While Bob looks perfect. Looks rested.

  His normality becoming more alien.

  "Need help," I say. Voice dry. "Been clicking all night."

  Bob glances over. Shrugs shoulders.

  "Looks fine to me."

  Not fine. Nothing fine. Car broken. Image wrong.

  "How fix mountains?" I ask. "How make car right?"

  Voice scrapes throat. Hurts speaking.

  Water forgotten. Hydration forgotten.

  Only clicking remembered.

  Bob barely interested. Barely engaged.

  His glance lasting seconds only.

  His indifference stings sharply.

  Casual dismissal hurts more than criticism.

  "Looks fine" feels like insult.

  Like missing obvious problem. Like ignoring effort.

  His eyesight must be broken.

  Or reality different for him.

  Mountains literally floating mid-air.

  Car hood bent impossible angle.

  How not see these problems?

  Frustration builds inside chest. Pressure increasing.

  Words come out desperate. Sound pathetic.

  Hate needing help. Hate asking.

  Especially from Bob. From Mr. Perfect.

  From button-pressing wizard. From prompt master.

  My question sounds like begging.

  His response sure to disappoint.

  Bob sighs. Opens lunch bag. Takes sandwich.

  "Just type better words. Or ask AI help."

  "What words?" Hands shake now. "What exact words?"

  Bob takes bite. Chews slow. Doesn't care.

  Sigh communicates everything. Complete disinterest.

  Lunch more important than helping.

  Lunch bag neat. Perfectly packed.

  Sandwich wrapped precisely. Even edges.

  Bob's life organized while mine collapses.

  His advice insultingly vague. Purposely unhelpful.

  "Better words" means nothing specific.

  Need exact solutions. Need precise instructions.

  Hands trembling uncontrollably now. Sleep deprivation showing.

  Coffee overdose. Sugar crash. Brain misfiring.

  Shake visible to others now.

  External symptoms of internal collapse.

  His chewing methodical. Perfectly timed.

  Each bite carefully measured. Precisely chewed.

  Making sandwich consumption more important.

  Than colleague's mental breakdown. Than professional crisis.

  His indifference feels deliberate now.

  Like enjoying my suffering. Like savoring failure.

  Like watching car crash. Fascinated by destruction.

  But too detached to help.

  "Whatever. Try 'perfect car' maybe."

  Type words. "Perfect car. Red. Mountain background."

  New image. Car better. Mountains still wrong.

  "Still bad," I say. Show Bob screen.

  His suggestion dismissive. Barely effort made.

  Words tossed carelessly. Like garbage disposal.

  "Whatever" crystallizes his attitude perfectly.

  His complete disinterest. His total detachment.

  Try his words anyway. No choice left.

  Type exactly as suggested. Follow instructions precisely.

  Hope rises briefly. Maybe simple works.

  Maybe overthinking the problem. Maybe too complicated.

  Image generates quickly. Car shape improves.

  Hood looks possible now. Physics partially restored.

  But mountains still wrong. Still impossible.

  Now melting like Salvador Dali painting.

  Like ice cream in sun. Like reality dissolving.

  Disappointment crushes chest. Hope dies instantly.

  Need validation. Need acknowledgment. Need confirmation.

  That mountains wrong. That seeing correctly.

  That not losing mind completely.

  Show screen again. Seek shared reality.

  Seek confirmation of objective truth.

  That mountains aren't supposed to melt.

  He barely looks. Plays phone already.

  "So try again. Not my problem."

  Feel anger rise. Feel fear too.

  "Show me your project," I ask. "How you do it?"

  Eyes flick to screen momentarily.

  Then back to phone. To colored candies.

  To meaningless games. To digital distraction.

  His attention span microseconds long.

  For my problems. For my struggles.

  While hours spent on phone games.

  His dismissal complete now. Totally abandoning.

  "Not my problem" creates distance.

  Creates separation. Creates isolation.

  Emotion bubbles up unexpectedly. Surprising intensity.

  Anger hot in stomach. In throat.

  Fear cold in chest. In heart.

  Twin feelings battling for dominance.

  For emotional control. For response direction.

  Need to understand difference between us.

  Why he succeeds. Why I fail.

  Why easy for him. Why impossible for me.

  Request feels vulnerable. Feels exposed.

  Asking for demonstration. For teaching.

  For knowledge sharing. For professional compassion.

  Bob sighs. Turns screen. Shows beach image.

  "Started yesterday. Finished in hour."

  His image perfect. Waves right. Sky right.

  "How?" Voice cracks. "How make perfect?"

  Bob shrugs. "Don't obsess. Just click few times."

  Sigh louder this time. Dramatic length.

  Communicating extreme inconvenience. Maximum imposition.

  Screen turns reluctantly. Like revealing secret.

  Beach scene appears. Tropically perfect. Impossibly beautiful.

  Waves curved perfectly. Physics completely accurate.

  Sky gradient flawless. Clouds naturally shaped.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Sand texture exactly right. Palm trees correctly proportioned.

  Everything perfect. Everything correct. Everything right.

  Image obscenely good. Offensively flawless.

  And completed quickly. Without struggle.

  Without night-long battle. Without existence crisis.

  Voice betrays emotional state. Cracks pathetically.

  Shows weakness. Shows desperation. Shows jealousy.

  Question simple but contains everything.

  Entire professional inadequacy. Entire self-doubt collection.

  His shrug dismisses everything. Entire struggle invalidated.

  His advice insultingly simple. Criminally vague.

  "Don't obsess" like telling drowning person.

  "Just swim" or telling depressed person.

  "Just be happy" - useless, harmful simplification.

  Easy for him. Nothing matters to Bob.

  Feel small. Bob better. I'm not.

  Type new words. "Red sports car. NORMAL mountains."

  Image loads. Car hood fixed. Mountains upside down.

  His casual competence crushing now.

  His effortless success unbearable weight.

  Nothing important to him. Nothing significant.

  While everything matters intensely to me.

  Every pixel critical. Every detail essential.

  Self-worth shrinking with each comparison.

  Body feels physically smaller. Presence diminishing.

  Bob clearly superior. Clearly better adapted.

  To this new world. To AI era.

  His indifference his superpower. His detachment his strength.

  My caring my weakness. My perfectionism my vulnerability.

  Turn back to screen. To familiar battle.

  Type new words. Add emphasis. Add specificity.

  NORMAL in capitals. Digital shouting. Command emphasis.

  Brief hope rises. Screen understands emphasis maybe?

  Image appears gradually. Car looks right finally.

  Hood curves correctly. Physics laws respected.

  But mountains completely inverted. Literally upside down.

  Peaks pointing downward. Valleys pointing upward.

  Reality broken differently now. Differently wrong.

  "Mountains wrong!" Hit desk. Coffee spills.

  Bob moves chair away. Looks annoyed.

  "Dude, chill. It's just picture."

  Not just picture. My job. My worth.

  Frustration explodes outward. Becomes physical.

  Fist connects with desk. Pain ignored.

  Coffee cup topples. Brown liquid spreads.

  Keyboard in danger. Papers getting wet.

  But physical world irrelevant now.

  Only digital problems matter. Only screen reality.

  Bob's chair wheels squeak loudly.

  Creates distance quickly. Moves away fast.

  His face shows annoyance. Shows judgment.

  No understanding. No empathy. No comprehension.

  His words cut deeper than intended.

  "Just picture" fundamental misunderstanding. Complete mischaracterization.

  Not understanding existential significance. Professional importance.

  This survival. This identity. This purpose.

  This validation of keeping job.

  When eight colleagues lost theirs.

  This justification for continued employment.

  This proof of professional value.

  This evidence of deserving position.

  This everything that matters now.

  "Please help," I ask. Voice small now.

  Bob sighs. Comes over. Looks at screen.

  Types words. "Red sports car advertisement professional mountains."

  Image loads. Car good. Mountains good.

  Pride dissolves completely. Desperation winning.

  Voice becomes tiny. Childlike. Pathetic.

  Asking directly now. Begging for assistance.

  No more pretense. No more independence.

  Surrender complete. Ego fully deflated.

  Bob sighs dramatically. Maximum inconvenience communicated.

  Chair wheels squeak approach. Reluctant assistance coming.

  His presence close now. Cologne smells strong.

  Fingers move across keyboard confidently. Decisively.

  No hesitation. No uncertainty. No doubt.

  Words appear precisely chosen. Expertly arranged.

  Simple yet specific. Clear yet detailed.

  Professional added strategically. Context established properly.

  included purposefully. Usage declared explicitly.

  Image generates immediately. No long processing.

  Car appears perfect. Every detail correct.

  Mountains stand properly. Physics laws respected.

  Reality restored completely. Image finally right.

  Bob's effortless success more painful.

  Than continued failure would be.

  Relief floods body. "Thank you. How know words?"

  Bob already walking away. "Just didn't care so much."

  Try to understand. Try to learn.

  Boss walks by. Stops at desk.

  Physical sensation of relief overwhelming.

  Tension leaving muscles. Shoulders dropping finally.

  Breath comes easier. Heart rate normalizes.

  Problem solved creates momentary happiness.

  Gratitude genuine but secondary to curiosity.

  Need to understand difference. Need to learn.

  Need to replicate success. Need to absorb knowledge.

  But Bob already retreating. Already disengaged.

  His wisdom casually delivered. Offhandedly shared.

  "Just didn't care so much" - profound revelation.

  Simple yet impossible. Obvious yet unreachable.

  Caring less equals success. Perfectionism equals failure.

  Try processing this contradiction. This paradox.

  Try integrating this backwards knowledge.

  Try accepting this reverse wisdom.

  Mind struggles with concept. With implementation.

  How care less? How detach?

  How become more like Bob?

  Boss's footsteps interrupt philosophical crisis.

  Professional evaluation approaching. Judgment incoming.

  "Car advertisement approved. Client meeting tomorrow."

  Nod. Feel proud. Image fixed now.

  Boss continues. "Next project. Breakfast cereal. Kids smiling."

  New project. New problems. Start again.

  Bob already playing game. Feet on desk.

  Boss's words bring momentary validation.

  Project approved. Work accepted. Performance adequate.

  Brief professional satisfaction. Short-lived pride.

  Nod acknowledgment. Achievement recognized internally.

  Moment passes instantly. Replaced by new assignment.

  New project announced. New expectations established.

  New pressure applied. New anxiety triggered.

  Cycle begins again. New obsession initialized.

  No time to enjoy success.

  No space to celebrate victory.

  Just endless production. Constant content creation.

  Perpetual image generation. Infinite prompt engineering.

  Look over at Bob. Already disengaged.

  Phone back in hand. Game resumed instantly.

  Feet casually elevated. Perfectly relaxed posture.

  Complete comfort in workplace. Total professional ease.

  His indifference his shield. His detachment his armor.

  Against stress. Against pressure. Against obsession.

  His secret weapon visible but unreachable.

  His superpower observable but unlearnable.

  "How make kids smile?" I ask him.

  "Just type it," he says. Doesn't look up.

  Type words. "Kids smiling. Eating cereal."

  Image appears. Kids look wrong. Teeth too big.

  Question feels pathetic again. Neediness obvious.

  Dependency forming rapidly. Learning nothing personally.

  Bob's advice minimal. Maximum indifference maintained.

  No eye contact given. No attention diverted.

  Game more important than teaching. Than helping.

  "Just type it" insulting in simplicity.

  In vagueness. In unhelpfulness. In dismissiveness.

  But follow instruction anyway. No choice left.

  Type simple description. Basic prompt attempt.

  Words feel inadequate immediately. Feel insufficient.

  But maybe simplicity works. Maybe directness succeeds.

  Image generates quickly. Children appear instantly.

  But wrongness evident immediately. Deeply unsettling result.

  Smiles too wide. Teeth too numerous.

  Like sharks disguised as children.

  Like predators pretending human behavior.

  Uncanny valley territory. Disturbing aesthetic region.

  AI understanding "smile" too literally.

  Creating mouth expressions physically impossible.

  For human facial musculature. For dental anatomy.

  "Help please," I ask Bob again.

  He glances over. "Looks creepy. Try again."

  Type more words. Fix teeth. Now eyes wrong.

  Bob watches me struggle. Does nothing.

  Asking becoming habit now. Becoming automatic.

  Independence abandoned completely. Self-reliance forgotten.

  Bob's help addictive. His success contagious.

  But assistance inconsistently provided. Unpredictably offered.

  He looks momentarily. Attention briefly granted.

  Confirms obvious problem. States clear fact.

  Offers no solution. Provides no guidance.

  Just verification of failure. Of inadequacy.

  Try fixing independently. Add specific instructions.

  Address teeth problem directly. Target dental issues.

  New image corrects original problem. Teeth normal now.

  But creates new issue. Eyes wrong instead.

  Too large. Too wide. Too unblinking.

  Staring intensely. Unnervingly focused. Disturbingly alert.

  Bob now watching process. Observing struggle.

  Finding entertainment in difficulty. Amusement in frustration.

  Offering no assistance. Providing no help.

  Just spectating professional suffering. Just witnessing creative struggle.

  Like watching reality television. Like observing zoo animal.

  With detached curiosity. With casual interest.

  "Maybe take break?" he suggests. Doesn't mean it.

  Can't take break. Must fix image.

  Boss walks by. Sees screen. Frowns.

  "Those children look disturbed. Fix immediately."

  Suggestion feels insincere. Feels mocking somehow.

  Bob knows break impossible. Knows stopping unthinkable.

  Words just noise. Just empty sounds.

  No genuine concern behind them. No actual care.

  Break concept incomprehensible now. Rest idea foreign.

  Must continue working. Must achieve perfection.

  Must fix children's eyes. Must correct expressions.

  Must create normality. Must generate acceptability.

  Boss appears suddenly. Timing always terrible.

  Always catching problems. Never witnessing successes.

  His frown creates instant stomach drop.

  Instant chest tightening. Instant throat closing.

  His assessment painfully accurate. Children indeed disturbed-looking.

  Like tiny horror movie characters. Like miniature asylum inmates.

  His command clear and direct. "Fix immediately."

  No room for discussion. For explanation. For excuse.

  No acknowledgment of difficulty. Of technical challenge. Of AI limitations.

  Just expectation of correction. Of improvement. Of perfection.

  Just demand for immediate solution. For instant resolution.

  For immediate transformation of disturbing to delightful.

  Bob laughs when boss leaves. Finds funny.

  I type frantically. "NORMAL kids. Happy faces."

  New image. Better kids. Still off somehow.

  "Bob please," I beg now. "Need help."

  His laughter feels like betrayal.

  Like colleague becoming enemy. Like ally becoming adversary.

  Finding humor in professional danger. In career jeopardy.

  In possible job loss. In potential termination.

  Fingers move desperately. Type with urgency.

  With panic. With professional terror.

  NORMAL in capitals again. Digital shouting. Command emphasis.

  Special word becoming personal mantra. Becoming desperate prayer.

  New image loads. Improvement visible but insufficient.

  Children less disturbing but still wrong.

  Still slightly off. Still subtly incorrect.

  Something in expressions not quite right.

  Something in proportions not quite human.

  Something in eyes not quite alive.

  Improvement inadequate. Progress insufficient. Change unsatisfactory.

  Pride dissolves completely. Dignity abandoned entirely.

  Now actively begging. Now explicitly pleading.

  Professional facade completely collapsed.

  Work persona totally abandoned.

  Naked desperation fully displayed. Complete dependency openly demonstrated.

  "Need help" fundamental truth now. Essential reality now.

  He sighs. Puts down phone.

  "Show me what you typed."

  Show him prompt. He reads. Laughs.

  "Too complicated. Try simple words."

  Sigh communicates extreme inconvenience. Maximum imposition.

  Yet phone lowered. First victory.

  Game paused. Attention captured. Focus achieved.

  Small breakthrough. Minor miracle. Tiny triumph.

  Show screen obediently. Display prompt submissively.

  His eyes scan words. Read attempt.

  Laughter immediate response. Instantaneous reaction.

  Not cruel laughter. Not mean-spirited mockery.

  But genuine amusement. Authentic entertainment.

  At overthinking. At overcomplicating. At over-engineering.

  Judgment delivered casually. Assessment provided effortlessly.

  "Too complicated" diagnosis instantly given.

  Professional evaluation immediately offered. Expert assessment instantly shared.

  Solution presented simply. Remedy suggested straightforwardly.

  No detailed explanation. No complex reasoning.

  No elaborate justification. No sophisticated rationale.

  Just "try simple words" - basic instruction.

  Just fundamental guidance. Just essential direction.

  Just core principle revealed. Just basic truth shared.

  Simple works. Complex fails. Less succeeds.

  Types for me. "Two happy kids eating cereal commercial."

  Image loads. Perfect kids. Perfect smiles. "How?" I ask. "How always work?"

  Bob shrugs. Already walking away.

  "Don't overthink. Don't care so much."

  His fingers move confidently. Type unhesitatingly.

  Words appear straightforward. Clear. Concise. Precise.

  No special formatting. No shouting capitals.

  No complex adjectives. No elaborate descriptions.

  Just basic nouns. Just simple modifiers.

  Just essential elements. Just necessary components.

  Commercial added as context. As usage indicator.

  Image generates immediately. Results appear instantly.

  Children completely normal. Perfectly appropriate. Entirely suitable.

  Smiles natural. Expressions genuine. Proportions correct.

  Everything fixed. Everything right. Everything perfect.

  Question escapes immediately. Bubbles up automatically.

  How possible? How achievable? How repeatable?

  How make this skill mine?

  How absorb this knowledge? This ability?

  But Bob already disengaging. Already retreating.

  Already returning to games. To digital distractions.

  Answer tossed casually over shoulder. Wisdom carelessly discarded.

  "Don't overthink" contradicting every instinct.

  "Don't care" contradicting entire identity.

  Can't not care. Must be perfect.

  Lunch time comes. Bob leaves. I stay.

  Stare at kids' faces. Something moves.

  Blink hard. Must be tired.

  His advice impossible to implement.

  Caring fundamental to existence. To identity.

  To professional self. To personal worth.

  Perfection only acceptable standard. Only tolerable outcome.

  Only justifiable result. Only permissible product.

  Clock indicates lunch hour. Time passing unnoticed.

  Bob grabs coat. Heads for door.

  Doesn't invite along. Doesn't suggest accompanying.

  Knows invitation would be rejected.

  Knows screen relationship takes precedence.

  Office empties gradually. Voices fade away.

  Just me now. Just screen now.

  Just perfect children's faces now.

  Stare intensely at image. Study every pixel.

  Something subtle changes. Something slight moves.

  Left child's eye blinks. Right child's smile widens.

  Movement definitely happened. Change definitely occurred.

  Blink forcefully. Rub eyes hard.

  Must be hallucinating. Must be seeing things.

  Sleep deprivation causing visual disturbances. Causing perceptual anomalies.

  Keep making images. Keep trying words.

  Bob returns. Eats chips. Watches me.

  "Still on same project?" he asks.

  Nod. Can't stop. Can't explain why.

  Despite uncertainty, continue working. Continue generating.

  Despite possible hallucinations, keep creating. Keep producing.

  Try different words. Try various prompts.

  Try Bob's approach. Try simpler language.

  Try caring less. Try detaching more.

  Results inconsistent. Success unpredictable. Perfection elusive.

  Bob's return barely noticed. Presence peripherally registered.

  Chip crunching sounds irritating. Unnecessarily loud.

  His question breaks concentration. Disrupts focus.

  Implies criticism. Suggests judgment. Indicates assessment.

  Of time management. Of task efficiency. Of professional capability.

  Nod automatically. Acknowledge without speaking.

  Words require too much effort. Too much energy.

  Too much translation from digital to verbal.

  From screen world to physical world.

  Can't articulate obsession source. Can't explain compulsion origin.

  Can't verbalize screen's magnetic pull.

  Can't describe regenerate button's hypnotic effect.

  Can't convey perfection's addictive pursuit.

  Language inadequate for digital experience communication.

  Bob shakes head. "Weird, man. Seriously weird."

  Night comes. Bob leaves. Says goodbye.

  Don't answer. Can't look away.

  Screen glows brighter. Kids smile wider.

  His judgment doesn't matter anymore.

  His opinion increasingly irrelevant. Increasingly distant.

  "Weird" assessment from outside perspective.

  From normal world. From balanced existence.

  From healthy relationship with technology.

  Words can't penetrate screen focus.

  Can't breach digital concentration. Can't puncture image obsession.

  Daylight fades gradually. Darkness grows slowly.

  Time passing unnoticed. Hours disappearing untracked.

  Bob packs bag eventually. Completes workday normally.

  Says words at departure. Makes sound.

  Expects response. Anticipates acknowledgment.

  Receives nothing. Gets silence. Meets absence.

  Attention completely screen-captured. Awareness entirely image-focused.

  Consciousness totally digitally absorbed. Completely technologically consumed.

  His existence increasingly ghostlike. Increasingly phantasmal.

  Physical world increasingly transparent. Increasingly translucent.

  Screen world increasingly solid. Increasingly substantial.

  Digital realm increasingly real. Increasingly tangible.

  Children's smiles growing visibly. Widening perceptibly.

  One more image. One more try.

  Maybe next one perfect.

  Compulsion strengthens with solitude. With night.

  With isolation. With uninterrupted screen communion.

  One more generation. One more creation.

  One more attempt. One more effort.

  Finger hovers over button. Over regenerate.

  Over digital possibility generator. Over reality creator.

  Hope persistent despite experience. Despite evidence.

  Despite repeated disappointment. Despite consistent failure.

  Optimism irrational but inextinguishable. Illogical but undeniable.

  Maybe this time different. Maybe this attempt successful.

  Maybe this image achieves perfection.

  Maybe this creation attains flawlessness.

  Maybe this generation reaches ideal.

  Maybe this prompt produces perfect.

  Maybe this click changes everything.

  Maybe this button press transforms reality.

  Maybe this digital interaction transcends limitation.

  Maybe this computational relationship reaches apotheosis.

  Maybe next one worth everything.

  Worth time. Worth health. Worth life.

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