In the bustling, early morning hours of the Gaza market, 12-year-old Lina moved quickly between stalls, selling ripe, fresh tomatoes to the familiar faces of wholesalers. Every day, she enjoyed the chatter and banter, and after making a few good sales, she’d earn enough to take a little pocket money to school. Some of the traders were more than just familiar faces—unknown to Lina, they worked as informants, passing on details of daily life to Israeli forces. The conversations she so innocently engaged in were becoming part of a vast database fueling a powerful AI system.
That morning, Lina’s older sister, 20-year-old Mariam, felt uneasy. The skies seemed clearer than usual, but something didn’t sit right. “Lina, don’t go to the market today,” Mariam said firmly, stopping her by the door. “I’ll go for you this time.”
“But why? I always go! I’m supposed to meet the usual buyers,” Lina argued, confusion filling her voice. But Mariam was serious. “Just this once, please.”
Reluctantly, Lina agreed and headed to school, unable to shake the feeling that something was off. By mid-morning, the routine school day was interrupted by the sharp wail of sirens. “Everyone, to the shelter!” a teacher’s voice shouted. Lina and her classmates quickly gathered their things, rushing to safety. Inside the shelter, the air was thick with tension. One of her friends, Amal, turned to her, breathless, “The market—Lina, it’s been bombed.”
Lina’s heart sank. She barely waited for the all-clear before running toward the market. When she arrived, the scene was devastating. What had once been a lively place full of voices and life was now reduced to rubble. Destruction stretched as far as she could see, and the smell of smoke and dust filled the air. Shouting her sister’s name again and again, Lina’s voice grew hoarse, but there was no answer.
Among the debris, scattered tomatoes lay crushed and broken. Lina knelt down and began picking them up, one by one. Her school bag, still slung over her shoulder, suddenly felt too heavy. She threw her textbooks and notebooks to the ground, stuffing the salvaged tomatoes into the bag. Each tomato she picked up felt like a fragment of her shattered world, and as tears filled her eyes, the reality of her loss weighed heavier than ever.
As she clutched the bag tightly, she realized this wasn’t just about the market or her sister. Somewhere, systems were watching, calculating, deciding—far away from her reality, but with a power that dictated her fate. The innocence of her daily routine had become entangled in a war she never asked to be part of.
All names of people and organizations appearing in this story are pseudonyms.
Some say AI will make war more humane. Israel’s war in Gaza shows the opposite.
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