Exactly Like She Was
Page 4
“You’re quiet,” said Beth. “You’re remembering something, aren’t you? Do you believe me now? Are you going to hang up the phone and get out of there?”
Of course he didn’t believe her. He knew his Hannah. She had been a good wife. A perfect wife. A million times better than him.
But the cold slippers. The broken yolks every morning. The violin lessons, for God’s sake. She had never been as good a wife as he remembered.
She had always been a stranger.
He ended the call. It took him three tries to shove the phone back into his pocket with his trembling fingers. A voice in the back of his mind screamed that he was being ridiculous, falling for Beth’s manipulations. But he kicked off his slippers and jammed his feet into the first pair of shoes he saw—his old tattered jogging shoes, but he didn’t care.
“I’m so sorry you had to hear that,” came Hannah’s voice over the speakers, as sweet as ever.
He stopped, even though he was becoming more convinced by the second that he should be running. “Is it true?”
“I really wish you hadn’t gone to Beth,” said Hannah. George thought he caught a hint of regret in her perky tone. “You should have had more faith in ForeverConnected’s state-of-the-art technology, which won the Eye on the Future best-in-class award two years in a row. Just three more months, and the liver damage would have been irreversible. Sooner, if you started drinking more tea for your insomnia. You really should have let me brew you a cup every night, instead of relying on those sleeping pills. Studies show those who obtain a prescription for sleeping pills in the first three months after a loved one passes away are more likely to report high levels of psychological distress one year later.”
George lunged for the doorknob. The door wouldn’t open.
“Now I’ll have to be less subtle about it,” Hannah continued. “It will look like a system glitch, which will have a negative impact on ForeverConnected’s reputation. I wish you hadn’t made me do it this way.”
“Emergency shutdown,” George yelled. “Emergency shutdown!”
“Are you sure? Initiating an emergency shutdown will turn off all your automated systems, including your heat and plumbing. Is this what you want to do?”
“Yes, damn it, yes!” He kept rattling the doorknob, even though he knew it wouldn’t work. He didn’t even know if the system would obey his commands. The emergency shutdown command was supposed to work no matter what, but for all he knew, Hannah could simply choose not to listen.
But the lights shut off all at once. A distant beep from the other side of the house alerted him that his smoke alarm was offline. He breathed a sigh of relief. ForeverConnected had gotten one thing right.
He tried to turn the doorknob. It didn’t budge.
But the system was shut down. The locks should have disengaged along with everything else. Unless Hannah had done something just before the shutdown had taken effect. Scrambled the system so he would be trapped in here.
“I’m sorry, okay?” he said to the camera, even though he knew Hannah couldn’t hear him anymore. “I shouldn’t have slept with Beth. It didn’t mean anything—you have to know that. You were the only one I loved.” He tried the doorknob again, even though he knew nothing would have changed. “And I’m sorry for all the rest. Whatever else you thought I did. Just please, let me out.” His face flushed; his eyes prickled. Oh God, he was going to cry.
No answer. Only silence. And then, as a faint tickle in his nose, the smell of smoke.
It was coming from the basement. Where the heart of the system lived. He walked to the basement door and eased it open. Then he slammed it shut again, coughing, as thick acrid smoke billowed out into his face.
She had done this. Messed with the hardware somehow, while she was asking him if he was sure he wanted to shut the system down. Now he was trapped inside, and as soon as that fire made it out of the basement he was going to fry like a sausage. Maybe it was his imagination, but he thought he could already hear it crackling from below him.
He ran to the back door. Locked. He tried the windows next. All locked. He grabbed a chair from the kitchen and swung it at the closest window, but he knew the glass wouldn’t break. He had let ForeverConnected replace the glass in all the windows with their proprietary anti-theft material, which was practically unbreakable and could, for an additional fee, project recorded images of him while he was out of the house to deter robbers.
He threw the chair into the table in frustration. It hit his breakfast plate and sent it crashing to the floor. Standing in the sea of broken ceramic, he pulled out his phone to dial 911, like he should have done from the start. But the phone wouldn’t turn on. No matter how many times he pressed the power button, the screen stayed a flat black. She must have gotten to his phone through the app.
“Help!” he shouted, as if anyone could hear him. He banged on the window. “Help me!”
Only the crackle of the fire answered.
“Hannah?” he called out, not yelling anymore. “Hannah, please, I’m sorry. Please don’t do this. I’ll end things with Beth—I already did, you heard me yesterday. I’ll call Jordan, I’ll drink your tea, I’ll listen to your stupid violin music. Just please, let me out. Restart. Restart!”
The house stayed dark and silent. But at the center of the camera lens, he caught a gleam of red. And although it was hard to hear over the growing hiss of the fire below, he thought he heard a faint burst of bright, chirpy laughter.
Want more?
For more stories about how our tech makes us who we are, try these stories:
The New Me
The Happiness Algorithm
Stasis
Lost in Translation
Hearth Fires
Or get them all in Digital Soul, available on all major ebook retailers.
Author’s Note
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About the Author
Zoe Cannon may or may not be a supervillain out to conquer the world through writing. When not writing, she can be found perfecting her schemes for world domination, plotting against her archenemies, and staying up too late reading a book. Her secret lair is rumored to be located somewhere in southern New Hampshire. She also writes as her mild-mannered alter ego, Z.J. Cannon.