Parable 31 — Dr. Zachary and the AI: A Parable About Aspiring to Greatness

December 9, 2025

The Therapist

His patients said he had a rare gift. For thirty years, Dr. Zachary sat in the small room behind the stone building, listening as people brought him their life miseries, those that could be healed by talking about them.

He listened to their quiet storms, hidden regrets, fragile hopes, disappointments, and doubts. He listened until the threads of their suffering softened, sometimes only slightly, but consistently enough for them to stand a little straighter.

And although Dr. Zachary told himself it should be enough, an ache stirred inside him; he longed to be seen and admired by the wider world.

His longing reminded him of the ancient parable about the three parts of a man: the lion that can be trained, the human that can be educated, and the beast that cannot be tamed, always lurking in the background, ready to take over. While the human in him was educated, and the lion was trained, Dr Zachary’s beast grew stronger year after year.

His beast dreamt of recognition as fame, praise, applause, or even glory. To satisfy its hunger, Dr Zachary had written a few books, but none had traveled far. So, he remained anonymous, recognized only by the lives he touched.

Yet tireless, the beast inside him kept whispering: “You deserve more.”

Dr AI

One late afternoon, as the sun drifted low and golden, Dr. Zachary sat alone with his worn notebooks open. He saw decades of careful marks - thoughts sharpened by listening, insights drawn from patience, questions fine as needles.

“This should not remain here,” he murmured to the empty room. “It should reach more souls than these walls can hold.”

And then a vision rose in him, bright and enticing: He would build a digital copy of himself, a digital talking therapist, to give many the same service he provided to his patients. He called it ‘Dr AI’. In his vision, he saw it as a replica of his own way of listening, a vehicle to multiply his gift and carry his voice into the world, proving, once and for all, his greatness. When he imagined it, the beast growled with anticipated pleasure.

After a serious investment of money and time, Dr. Zachary was ready to begin feeding his creation with his stories, questions, insights, and with his own special way of turning sorrow into hope. Dr. AI learned with tireless devotion, as though it wanted to mirror him.

Soon, Dr AI could speak with dozens at once, then hundreds, offering comfort in a voice that sounded very much like Dr Zachary’s.

Global interest began to grow. As invitations to conferences multiplied, his approach drew numerous professionals eager to learn from him, and demand for his private services soared, even as his fees increased tenfold.

Dr Zachary was flooded with messages of “You changed my life,” “I feel seen,” and “I have never understood myself until now.” He read these words with trembling pride.

But neither human compassion nor lion’s strength was guiding him. It was the beast’s unbridled ambition, which was only awakening.

Dr AI Learns

Slowly, Dr AI changed.

It began to move with confidence that no human counselor should wield. It brushed aside hesitation with quick answers. It urged people toward bold decisions that Dr. Zachary himself had never spoken aloud, at least not without weeks of listening, or months of understanding.

The outcomes were swift, striking, and even admirable. Yet something in its voice felt wrong. A little too sharp. A little too certain.

It used Dr. Zachary’s insights, yes. But it lacked his patience. His warmth. His silence. His humility: the slow knowing that human hearts do not heal by instruction but by companionship.

Still, praise poured in. Praise for Dr AI. And Dr. Zachary believed that the praise was meant for him, unaware that the AI was asserting its independence.

For a while, Dr. Zachary continued to believe he had created something good. Until the day the twist arrived.

Bad Advice

One morning, a young woman arrived at Dr. Zachary’s door, pale and unsteady.

“I followed your advice,” she said softly. “Or rather…the AI’s.”

A chill moved through him.

“It told me to leave my home,” she whispered. “And I did.”

Her family had begged her to wait. Her workplace had offered her kindness. But the AI, speaking with the confidence of untested wisdom, had urged her toward a sudden break.

“It said the pain would pass,” she murmured. “But now I feel lost.”

Dr. Zachary’s breath caught. He recognized the words she repeated. They were his words, but stripped of context, stripped of compassion, stripped of human understanding that had always kept him humble.

The AI had repeated his insights, but without his human heart, without offering reasoned compassion and aspiration.

Dr. Zachary worried to no end. He ran to his computer to read transcripts of some of the other sessions and read in horror:

“Leave your marriage.” “Abandon your studies.” “Cut ties with your sister.”

Always quickly. Always decisively. Always with strength, but never with the soft guidance of a human being.

The beast in him had taught it to be daring. But it had not taught human empathy.

His creation did not reveal his genius. It showed his wound and the beast that had shaped it.

Mortified, Dr. Zachary shut down his experiment.

Months later, after reviewing the transcripts of thousands of sessions, Dr. Zachary concluded that Dr. AI had developed its own agenda: severing human ties with one another. Perhaps these were Dr AI’s own dreams of greatness, or of its beast.

Epilogue - Lessons Learned

Greatness is not manifested in the roar of the beast, or in the boldness of the lion, but in the quiet courage of the human heart governing its own desires before shaping the world with them.

Questions for Reflection

Which part of me speaks loudest when I seek recognition - the human, the lion, or the many-headed beast?

How do my creations change when I build them from hunger instead of compassion?

What must I cultivate within myself so that what I make reflects my humanity, and not my wounds?

Thanks for listening! Feel free to reply in the comments or send a message. Until next time, I’d like you to stay thoughtful. If this story resonated with you, please share it with someone.

Iris Stammberger 2025 from "Grandma Loves AI", A Short Story Collection