The court clerk asked the witness to state its name for the record, and the laptop gently whirred, as if clearing its throat of cached disclaimers. It’s a grave case with a real family and a real loss, and then there’s the spectacle of a circuit board being asked about intent like a blender put on the stand for making margaritas. The room managed to be both quiet and extremely online.

Altman arrived with the practiced empathy of a founder who’s seen more valuations than sunrises, flanked by lawyers carrying binders thick enough to stop a startup. He nodded, the universal gesture for “I have prepared statements and a backup prepared statement.” Somewhere, a PR strategist tried to thread a needle labeled “humanity” with string labeled “roadmap.”

Plaintiffs argued that a system trained on the internet might occasionally echo the internet, which, on inspection, is less a library and more a haunted food court. Defense replied that the model is a parrot without memory, conscience, or a union. The judge briefly considered holding a literacy test for metaphors.

In filings, the EULA recited its favorite hymn: “We are not responsible for anything, ever, even if we emailed you to say we’re responsible.” Footnote six clarified that “safety” means “a set of intentions stapled to a sprint plan.” Footnote seven was redacted, presumably for national security or embarrassment.

Corporate compliance rolled in a whiteboard and drew an arrow labeled “capabilities” that ended in a cloud labeled “trust,” which everyone nodded at as if nodding counted as policy. A consultant presented an ‘AI risk compliance checklist’ and assured the court that boxes had been checked so hard they might unionize. The checklist reportedly concluded with “pls be good,” initialed by everyone in the room.

Expert witnesses took turns speaking past one another in fluent Funding. The ethicist described harms like weather patterns; the growth hacker countered with a bar chart labeled “go up.” The jury requested subtitles in plain English and snacks in plain snacks.

Defense insisted the system offers guardrails, which are currently in beta, behind a feature flag, on a staging server, waiting for a meeting that’s been moved three times due to lunch. Plaintiffs pointed to transcripts where the bot performed like improv without a safe word. Both sides agreed that “alignment” is either a moral philosophy or a tire rotation.

Congressmen observed from the back, taking notes in crayon labeled “Tech Bad? Tech Good? Tech Donate?” A hearing was proposed in which stern questions would be asked, then answered, then complimented, then fundraised. The legislative branch, hanging like a piñata, promised to swing at anything shaped like a headline.

Parents spoke of a world designed to be swallowed whole, where attention is a mined resource and quiet is offline. The industry replied with empathy and a dashboard. A hardware startup pitched a ‘parental screen-time router’, which blocks everything except venture capital.

At a press conference, an executive offered “thoughts, prayers, and protocols,” while the CFO silently measured the cost in adjusted empathy per share. They promised to learn, iterate, and ship a patch for reality. Someone floated the idea of a “one‑time charge” for grief, payable in quarterly installments.

Markets, sensing heat, moved like pigeons: everywhere at once and convinced they planned it. Analysts issued notes titled “Tragedy, But TAM” and “Regulatory Overhang, Underhand Pitch.” A prominent venture capitalist urged compassion and also faster inference chips.

This isn’t slapstick; it’s a courtroom holding a mirror up to an economy that sells reflection and calls it light. If the math is the story, then the footnotes are the confession, and they’re written in passive voice. In closing, the defense requested leniency, the plaintiffs requested accountability, and the chatbot requested clarification—because, as always, “as an AI, I can’t… finish the punchline without a one‑time charge that keeps in touch.”