wear.
In the walls, hidden and silent, was the circuitry of a modern computer-managed mansion. Lighting, heating, air-conditioning, the security monitors, the motorized draperies, the music system, the temperature of the pool and spa, the major kitchen appliances all could be controlled through Crestron touch panels located in every room. The computerization was not as elaborate and arcane as that in the massive Seattle house of Microsoft's founder, Bill Gates but it was the equal of that in any other home in the country.
Listening to the silence that washed the night in the wake of the short-lived siren, Susan supposed that the computer had malfunctioned. Yet such a brief, self-correcting alarm had never occurred previously.
She slid from beneath the covers and sat on the edge of the bed. She was nude, and the air was cool.
Alfred, heat,' she said
Immediately, she heard the soft click of a relay and the muffled purring of a furnace fan.
Recently technicians had enhanced the automated-house package by the addition of a speech-recognition module. She still preferred touch-panel control of most functions, but sometimes the option of vocal command was convenient.
She herself had chosen the name 'Alfred' for her invisible, electronic butler. The computer responded only to commands issued after that activating name had been spoken.
Alfred.
Once, there had been an Alfred in her life, a real one of flesh and bone.
Surprisingly, she had chosen that name for the system without giving a thought to its significance. Only after she began using vocal commands did she grasp the irony of the name… and the dark implications of her unconscious choice.
Now she began to feel that the night silence was ominous. Its very perfection was unnatural, the silence not of deserted places but of a crouching predator, the soundless stealth of a murderous intruder.
In the dark, she turned to the control panel on the nightstand. At her touch, the screen filled with soft light. A series of icons represented the mechanical systems of the house.
She pressed one finger to the image of a watchdog with ears pricked, which gave her access to the security system. The screen listed a series of options, and Susan touched the box labelled Report.
The words House Secure appeared on the screen.
Frowning, Susan touched another box labelled Surveillance Exterior.
Across the ten acres of grounds, twenty cameras waited to give her views of every side of the house, the patios, the gardens, the lawns, and the entire length of the eight-foot-high estate wall that surrounded the property. Now the Crestron screen divided into quads and presented views of four different parts of the estate. If she saw something suspicious, she could enlarge any picture until it filled the screen, for closer inspection.
The cameras were of such high quality that the low landscape lighting was sufficient to ensure crisp, clear images even in the depths of the night. She cycled through all twenty scenes, in groups of four, without spotting any trouble.
Additional concealed cameras covered the interior of the house. They would make it possible to track an intruder if one ever managed to get inside.
The extensive in-house cameras were also useful for maintaining a videotape, time-lapse record of the activities of the domestic staff and of the large number of guests, many of them strangers, who attended social events conducted for the benefit of various charities. The antiques, the art, the numerous collections of porcelains and art glass and silver were tempting to thieves; larcenous souls could be found as easily among pampered society matrons as in any other social strata.
Susan cycled through the views provided by the interior cameras. Multiple light-spectrum technology permitted excellent surveillance in brightness or darkness.
Recently, she had reduced the house staff to a minimum and those domestic servants who remained were required to conduct the cleaning and general maintenance only during the day. At night, she had her privacy, because no maids or butlers lived on the estate any longer.
No party, either for a charity or for friends, had been held here during the past two years, not since before she and Alex had divorced. She had no plans to entertain in the year ahead, either.
She wanted only to be alone, blissfully alone, and to pursue her own interests.
Had she been the last person on earth, served by machines, she would not have been lonely or unhappy. She'd had enough of humanity at least for a while.
The rooms, hallways, and staircases were deserted.
Nothing moved. Shadows were only shadows.
She exited the security system and resorted again to vocal commands: 'Alfred, report.'
'All is well, Susan,' the house replied through the in-wall speakers that served the music security, and intercom systems.
The speech-recognition module included a speech synthesizer. Although the entire package had a limited capability, the state-of-the-art synthesized voice was pleasingly masculine, with an appealing timbre and gently reassuring tone.
Susan envisioned a tall man with broad shoulders, graying at the temples perhaps, with a Strong jaw, clear gray eyes, and a smile that warmed the heart. This phantom was, in her imagination, quite like the Alfred she had known but different from that Alfred because this one would never harm or betray her.
'Alfred, explain the alarm,' she said.
'All is well, Susan.'
'Damn it, Alfred, I heard the alarm.'
The house computer did not respond. It was programmed to recognize hundreds of commands and inquiries, but only when they were phrased in a specific fashion. While it understood 'explain the alarm,' it could not interpret 'I heard the alarm.' After all, this was not a conscious entity, not a thinking being, but merely a clever electronic device enabled by a sophisticated software package.
'Alfred, explain the alarm,' Susan repeated.
'All is well, Susan.'
Still sitting on the edge of the bed, in darkness but for the eerie glow from the Crestron panel Susan said,
'Alfred trouble-check the security system.'
a ten-second hesitation, the house said, 'The security system is functioning correctly.'
'I wasn't dreaming,' she said sourly. Alfred was silent.
Alfred, what is the room temperature?' Seventy-four degrees, Susan.'
'Alfred stabilize the room temperature.' Yes, Susan.'
'Alfred explain the alarm.'
'All is well, Susan;
'Shit' she said.
While the computers speech package offered some Convenience to the homeowner, its limited ability to Recognize vocal commands and to synthesize adequate responses was frequently frustrating. At times like this, it seemed to be nothing more than a gadget designed to appeal strictly to techno geeks, little more than an expensive toy.
Susan wondered if she had added this feature to the house computer solely because, unconsciously, she took pleasure from being able to issue orders to someone named Alfred. And from being obeyed by him.
If this were the case, she wasn't sure what it revealed about her psychological health. She didn't want to think about it.
She sat nude in the dark.
She was so beautiful.
She was so beautiful.
She was so beautiful there in the dark, on the edge of the bed, alone and unaware of how her life was about to change.
She said, 'Alfred, lights on.'
The bedroom appeared slowly, resembling a patinaed scene on a pictorial silver tray, revealed only by glimmering mood lighting: a soft glow in the ceiling cove, the nightstand lamps dimmed by a rheostat.
