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“I’m trying to think of a joke about being in the closet,” the voice in the ceiling said. “But nothing clever comes to mind. I’ll get back to you when I think of something.”
“You’ll pay for this.”
“What’s wrong?” Amber asked patronizingly. “Don’t like someone fucking with your plans?”
I was a wealthy man, and wealth meant power. I was used to being treated a certain way, at all times, by everyone around me. People fell over themselves to get my attention and approval. They fawned and groveled. They certainly didn’tfuckwith me. Being helpless in my closet wasn’t something I was used to.
And I didn’t fucking like it.
“Doing okay in there?” Amber asked. “I don’t want you to piss yourself, so I’ll help you out.”
The deadbolt disengaged and the closet door slid open. I forced myself to walk out of the closet without any of the urgency I felt. As soon as I did, my bedroom door slid closed, locking me inside. The bathroom door opened, and the light turned on.
“I would lift the seat for you, but apparently your toilet is the only object in your house thatisn’ta smart-device,” Amber said. “So I’ll have to trust you. Be sure to shake twice and wash your hands.”
“What do you want?” I demanded.
Laughter trickled through the speaker. “You know what I want.”
“To make a fool out of me?”
“I want my two grand back. For the rooftop deposit.”
I gave a start. “You’re violating a dozen computer security lawsall because of two thousand dollars?”
“Yup.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“That’s fine,” she replied. “You can stay in your room and think about it for a while. I’ve got all night.”
I clenched my jaw so hard it began to ache. “I can’t give you your money if you lock me in my room.”
There was a moment of silence, then my bedroom door unlocked and swung open on its electronic hinges.
I calmly walked into my kitchen. The sun was setting outside the window, spreading purple and orange shades across the San Francisco sky. Tux was sitting on the kitchen counter, flicking his tail in confusion and staring up at the unfamiliar voice coming from the ceiling speakers.
Suddenly, all the electronics in the kitchen began flickering: the overhead light, the oven, the microwave. Even the gas stove burners flicked on and off in a poor imitation of a pyrotechnic display. Tux’s ears went flat on his head and he hissed angrily.
“Oooo, spooky ghost noises!” Amber crooned. “This is the ghost of Christmas cunt-waffles! You must atone for your tech-bro sins, Owen! REPENT!”
The lights kept flickering and the appliances turned on and off for ten more seconds before abruptly ceasing as quickly as they had started.
“Do you know what kind of lawyers I can afford? When I’m done with you, you’ll never work in this town again,” I threatened. “And that’s if you ever get out of jail.”
“Then I’d better get my money’s worth,” she replied. “Put those shades on, buddy. These LED lights are dimmers, and I’m going to see how high I can crank them up before they explode.”
The lights in the ceiling grew brighter. But I was looking down at my sunglasses, which were tucked into the front collar of my shirt.
Wait a minute.
There were no cameras inside my house. Only on the outside. That was by design—microphones were one thing, but I didn’t like the idea of being videotaped by my AI at all times, and this little experience with Amber was reinforcing that paranoia. I had tucked my sunglasses into my shirt when I was in the closet. I wasn’t wearing them prior to that. And my phone was currently in my pocket, so she hadn’t looked at me through that camera. Which meant she could see me.
That’s when I realized where Amber was.
I reached into a kitchen drawer, the one where I kept various odds and ends. Not to mention some useful electronic gadgets. I glanced at my private terrace and smiled.
Time to get even.
