To all underdogs out there:
The black sheep, the odd ducks, the rejects, the loners.
You make this world go around.
DVM Press
Vaakunatie 16 D 14
20780 Kaarina, Suomi-Finland
www.dvmpress.com
www.tayadevere.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 by Taya DeVere
All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by Suomi-Finland and United States of America copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, at DVM Press. Vaakunatie 16 D 14, 20780 Kaarina, Suomi-Finland.
For information about special discounts available for bulk purchases, sales promotions, fund-raising and educational needs, contact [email protected]
ISBN 978-952-7404-02-7 First Ebook Edition
ISBN 978-952-7404-03-4 First Print Edition
Cover Design © 2020 by Deranged Doctor Design - www.derangeddoctordesign.com
Formatting by Polgarus Studios – www.polgarusstudios.com
Editing by Christopher Scott Thompson and Lindsay Fara Kaplan
Table of Contents
SHORT STORY — MIRANDA’S REVENGE
CHAPTER 1 — THE WOODS
CHAPTER 2 — THE CITY
CHAPTER 3 — 2 YEARS EARLIER
CHAPTER 4 — AMONG THE SHEEP
CHAPTER 5 — BEYOND THE COMFORT ZONE
EPILOGUE
i — Dear Reader
ii — About the Author
iii — Final Thanks
iv — UNCHIPPED Series Release Schedule
MIRANDA’S REVENGE
A short story in the world of the Unchipped series
The light of early morning glimmers through the sauna window’s tinted glass. Weak sunlight exposes smudges of toothpaste on the bathroom mirror. She reaches for a pill bottle with a small, handwritten X on its label. The dim numbers of a digital clock display are visible in the mirror’s upper right corner: 14:08, rather than 7:08 as it ought to say.
The house is quiet, empty apart from Maija. As it has been for nearly fourteen years, since the day her husband stepped into his loafers, clicked open the front door, and half-heartedly called out that he was going to the kiosk to buy a pack of cigarettes.
***
Sitting by the kitchen window, she had waited a long time for his return. Hours later, after three unanswered phone calls, Maija had found herself in the IT-room, staring at the digital pad of the Home-Helper attached to the wall. The blue light of at least twenty icons reflected on her face: glowing images of a camera, dishwasher, shopping bag, showerhead, hair dryer, an envelope, Augmented Reality glasses…
Most of it should work manually, though she wasn’t sure. The system had not been shut off since the day it was activated. Not having the AI on—serving and watching over every moment they spent in the house—would have driven Maija’s husband mad in a matter of minutes.
She tapped the icon with tools on it.
“Settings — opening”, a familiar robotic voice responded after a two second delay.
Maija kept on tapping.
“Home-Helper — shutting down”, the voice echoed in the small IT-room for the last time before the system turned itself off with a whoosh.
Was she surprised that her husband had left her?
Hardly.
In fact, she’d been waiting for it. The house—their home—had felt meaningless long before he ran away. Their whole lives had felt meaningless actually, ever since the day their daughter had moved out.
The moment the robotic voice fell silent, Maija breathed easier.
Deep down, she hated them both: her runaway husband, and the AI he had named Miranda.
Against all sanity, Maija felt as if the two of them had eloped together: the Home-Helper lady and the father of her child.
Fourteen years later, his winter jacket still hangs in the mudroom. There’s no sign Miranda was ever here. Or maybe there’s something: the dimly lit digital clock, continuously misleading Maija with a false time.
***
She knows it would make sense to sell the house. She also knows how much of it has gone to pot since she shut down Miranda fourteen years ago. Thanks to her husband’s love of modern technology, the house had plenty of digital gadgets—all controlled by Miranda. She didn’t even want to think about how much it had cost.
Maija’s daughter Kaarina was always reminding her that it was 2088, and that she would do well to join the rest of humanity and live in the present. Just like Maija, she avoided mentioning her father or his disappearance. The two women have talked about him only a handful of times, usually when discussing the oversized house in the middle of the city, and what a joke it was to have only one person living in it.
“Just let me write the ad for you, Mom. And I know, the market’s bad right now. But there are a lot of suckers out there, still wanting a bigger house than what the Happiness-Program will provide them with. The chip-credits you’d get for this house… You could retire tomorrow.”
Kaarina visits for brunch every Sunday morning. The last time she came, she grabbed the tablet from Maija’s hands and x-ed out the online newspaper her mother had been reading.
Though reading the news usually does more damage than good to her mental health, Maija still has a hard time looking away. Especially if it has something to do with the reason for the bad housing market. It’s like a car accident on the side of the road: you have every intention of just driving by, but you can’t stop yourself from peeking.
It’s depressing. Terrifying. It can’t be helped.
The tablet is the only electronic gadget more complicated than a toaster that Maija still uses around the house. Kaarina had finished her last sip of black coffee and set the cup down in the kitchen sink. Her eyes never left the screen. “We can create the listing together. Says right here: ‘First thirty days, free
