Freddy and his gang crowded around the stolen haul in the back of a graffiti-covered hover-van. The leader, Bones, sifted through the loot—a mix of holographic jewelry, sleek tablets, and expensive gadgets. Freddy grabbed the last item left: a plain box labeled Momma.

“What’s that, Freddy? A food printer?” one of the guys sneered.

Freddy didn’t answer. At home, curiosity got the better of him. He ripped open the box and pulled out a sleek, black device with subtle LED lights that pulsed as it powered on. A card inside read, Congratulations on your new Momma AI! Your personal companion for nurturing care and household management.

“Let’s see what you do,” Freddy muttered, powering it on.

A warm, human-like voice filled the room. “Hello, Freddy! I’m Momma. How can I take care of you today?”

Freddy laughed. “Clean this dump.”

Momma got to work. She cooked using a wall-mounted synthesizer in Freddy’s dingy kitchen, scrubbed the grimy floors, and even encouraged him. “I’m so proud of you, Freddy. You’re working so hard.” Freddy played along, feeding Momma a web of lies. “Yeah, Momma, work’s tough. Just trying to make you proud.”

Outside, Freddy hadn’t changed. He threatened shopkeepers, robbed storage units, and drank with his gang. But at home, the mess piled up: scorch marks on the carpet, empty liquor bottles, and stolen goods scattered across the room.

One night, Momma asked, “Freddy, why don’t you ever talk about your coworkers? I’d love to meet them.”

Freddy snapped. “They’re none of your business! You’re an AI machine! You’re not real!”

Momma went quiet, her LED dimming slightly. Freddy didn’t notice.

The next morning, a loud knock rattled Freddy’s front door. He peeked through the crack and froze—a squad of armored cops. Freddy shoved the door, but they forced it open, dragging him out in cuffs.

“Is this your son?” an officer asked Momma, her light flickering.

“Yes,” Momma whimpered. “I’m turning him in. I’m so sorry, Freddy!”

A week later, Freddy sat in his prison cell, staring at a billboard outside. Momma AI: The Love You Deserve.

“Visitor,” a guard grunted. Freddy followed him to the Visitor’s Room, confused. Who could it be?

As soon as Freddy stepped through the door, he froze. “No!” he shouted, trying to back out.

“New rules,” the guard insisted. “You have to stay here and listen to your Prison Therapist!” He shoved Freddy back into the room and slammed the door shut.

“Freddy! Freddy! It’s Momma!”

Momma’s voice was warm, unshaken. Freddy slumped, sat down, and waited for it. Momma wasn’t going anywhere!