|
The house refused to let her in. Every time she dialed her entry code it said, ‘Processing error" and asked her to try again. She tried the backup fingerprint recognition and that didn’t work either. She stood out on the cold porch, shivering in her thin, cotton kurta, thumping in her entry code over and over again.
"Damn it," she tried to tell her house, near tears, "its me, its me. Why don’t you recognize me ?"
Processing error. Processing error. Processing error....
This couldn’t be happening. How was it possible ? Houses were the safest things in the universe. They never failed, wasn’t that what all the advertising brochures said ? The company which constructed this house had told her this could never happen. But it was happening. The house just would not let her in.
After half an hour of trying she gave up and sat on the cold plasmetal of the porch. She had just returned from a very long working day, surviving the boring commuters shuttle ride back only by thinking of the cozy warmth of being home again, of her house welcoming her in, heating her favorite dinner, playing her favorite music and keeping the temperature to the exact degree she preferred.
She was rarely this late. About once a month she had to work in the head office in another city. They knew she lived on the Edge and usually sent her back in plenty of time. But this time her colleague had taken sick leave and she was doing the work of two people and she had cut it very close, thinking if she was back even five minutes before dark it would be fine. She would normally have had enough time to get out from the shuttle, punch in her code and be safely inside before the icy night began.
Instead she was here huddled on the narrow, pillared porch, with no warm clothing and no shelter. Her nearest neighbor was about fifty miles away and the shuttle that dropped her home had left her and gone.
On this planet the temperature drop was instant. When the third sun set, the darkness and the freeze descended with jarring suddenness. To be outside without a thermal suit after dark was certain death. And all she had to wrap around her shoulders was a transparent, handloom dupatta.
Why did I buy this damned house ? She asked herself. It was so remote she had almost decided not to. But the salesman kept pointing out that she could never go this hi tech at this price anywhere else.
"We are almost giving it away," he said, "wouldn’t you like to come home and have all the chores done and your meal hot on the table ? This house is premium grade and its got everything. It’s the latest dusty rose plasmetal that is totally weatherproof and guaranteed even in this extreme climate. Its fully armed in case you ever need to defend yourself. Two warning shots, then rapid fire, then household missiles if needed. All yours to command at the press of a button. There is literally nothing this house can’t do."
She hesitated only because it was so far out in the wasteland. But he told her supply shuttles came in twice a day. "Just type in your list and the computer will order and receive everything and you won’t even know its done. You will never run short of anything again."
Finally she had allowed herself to be persuaded. As a house it was a excellent deal. She could afford a lot more here on the edge of the world than she could have had in town.
Town houses were far too expensive. She could not afford the roofless houses in the most expensive centrally insulated neighborhoods. She would have had to settle for a tiny tenement with little automation, certainly nothing as hi tech as this. Imagine having to come home from work and start cooking and cleaning . No, this was a far better deal.
Well, it had been good for a while. The house had been everything they said, all the chores were done, the supplies ordered, the music timed, her favorite view channels set, bed made, pool cleaned, fresh laundry, perfect dinner on the table steaming hot. The secretary desk had her mail despatched, reports typed and papers filed with no mistakes at all.
She had even grown used to the desolate view outside. The house had no windows and the scenic walls inside gave her a far better view than the featureless landscape. Few plants could survive the nightly freeze. As far as she could see it was miles of flatland grey green scrub, the only plants hardy enough to thrive in this weather.
It had been a good buy once she was used to the isolation. Cheap at the price.
Much good that will do me if I am dead!
She had to get help and fast. She sat on the cold step feeling the cooling plasmetal through her thin kurta and fumbled in her purse. She had the SSKG Type E Developer’s card, the builders of her house. She hoped it was still with her and not filed neatly by her secretary desk inside her inaccessible study.
After some searching she found it. At least her phone still had a good charge on it. She called. The phone kept ringing, her fear kept growing.
Finally a click and a cold computer voice said, "the number you are calling has closed for the day. Please call during working hours. Thank you for calling. Have a nice day."
Meera took a deep breath and tried to steady herself. Okay, she couldn’t call the company. She had some personal numbers but they were in her desk. She would have to call an emergency number. Fortunately for her, regulations demanded that all emergency numbers be printed next to the keypad of her house.
She called and explained her problem. "I need you to deactivate my house." she said.
"What is the nature of the complaint ?" the mechanical voice asked her. "Is your house attacking you ?"
The question took her aback. Did houses attack people ? "No, it just won’t let me in. Please deactivate it for me so I can get home."
"Please dial in your CIN or Citizen Identification Number."
She found it and dialed it in, wishing it would just hurry up. She was shivering in her thin day wear and uninsulated shoes.
"Please dial in your HSC or House Security Code."
Luckily she had that too, on the card they had given her when she bought the house.
"Please dial in your IIC or Income Identification Code."
"Oh, God, why do you need that ? Its in the house."
"Please dial in your IIC or Income Identification Code."
"Listen, I pay my taxes, just deactivate my house before I freeze to death, will you please ?"
"Please dial in your......"
Exasperated she hung up and kicked the plasmetal pillar. It made a hollow boom that didn’t relieve her feelings at all. She looked through the list of emergency numbers and decided to try the police.
When she got into the Police computer she explained her problem again. She dialed in her CIN and HSC number and hoped it would not ask for her IIC number. To her relief it didn’t.
"To self destruct dial 1, to deactivate dial 2"
She pressed 2 and the computer asked her to wait while she was connected to the House Complaints Cell. She waited. A flat mechanical voice came on again, thanking her for waiting assuring her that she would be attended to immediately. After the fifth repetition she was ready to hang up, only desperation made her hold on.
When she had almost given up the voice faded and another computer voice said, "House Complaints Cell. Please state your complaint."
"Thank god," she thought and explained her position all over again. "So can you do something to help me ?" she finished hopefully.
"We will deactivate and reset your house."
Meera found herself weak with relief. "Thank god, thank you, how soon can you come ?"
"Please dial in your......."
Here we go again, Meera thought, dialing in all the numbers. It didn’t not ask for her Income number. She waited breathlessly as it said, "one moment please."
"Please fill in the House Deactivation form under section 537B-D-68."
"Listen, I’m way out in the middle of nowhere, and I have about five minutes before sunset. Can’t you just deactivate the house and I will fill in any form you want later."
"Please fill in the House Malfunctions complaint, and the Insurance Claims Form and a Standard Disclaimer Form. When those are filed we will get a Court Computer Order to deactivate your house."
"Court order ....?" Meera repeated stunned.
"Deactivation requires a Court Computer Order under Section 538X-K-97."
"And how long will all this take ?"
"After you fill in the forms it will take less than 20 standard planetary days, or 30 local days to deactivate your house."
For a long time she sat with her head between her knees, trying to think of something. Her mind was a blank. She was tired and she was hungry. It had been a long trip and she never ate the synthetic shuttle food that looked so good and tasted just as metallic as the robots who served it.
It was the cold that aroused her. The shivering had given way to a growing numbness. It had become dark, the last sun had set and the soft porch light had refused to come out of the standby mode. The sensors were not working either. She could barely see in the nightlight and her fingers and toes were losing feeling. She knew enough about the terrible night chills to know that was not a good sign. I cant stay here, she decided, if I delay I will die.
In another few minutes the porch would become slippery with ice and if she was still there she would never leave.
I had better go back to the city and take a room for the night, she decided. Her hands were too numb to find the card that the shuttle cab had given her, so she tilted her purse and spilt all its contents on the floor of the porch. Her fingers were cold-clumsy sifting through the collected bits of paper. She was so exasperated that she threw her hairbrush at the door. It clanged against the plasmetal, rebounded and hit a pillar. It landed in the bushes outside.
She had just found the card when a whizz went past her head and the bush just off the porch exploded, showering her with burning leaves.
She jumped, seeing nothing. Another streak shrieked past her and burst in mid air above the small front garden. She turned her head and realized it was coming from the house. The house was attacking her. It had construed the hair brush as an attack and was firing its warning shots .
Panicked she grabbed her phone and the cab company card and ran, losing her dupatta and crunching the contents of her purse underfoot. She slid between the porch pillars, bruising her knees on the hard soil, a mere half second before the rapid fire began. The house was shooting at random, hitting the few frost resistant plants in her garden showering the porch with clods of mud and charred, foul smelling leaves.
At least it hadn’t taken out the missiles yet.
They told me this could never happen, she thought bitterly. Why the hell did I let them talk me into buying a fully armed house? They told me that the safeties were so good the house would never attack unless I specifically programmed it. And now its attacking me!
The wall behind her shook. Somewhere to the left a plume of fire exploded sending a long column of earth and debris high into the air. The house had shot a missile.
Meera cowered against the porch wall, making sure she did not touch it. She crouched low, hoping the bushes would hide her presence, desperately dialing the cab service in the dying light. The explosions continued in the front garden.
"Traid Cab Service only operates from the airport." the mechanical voice told her.
The wall behind her began to quiver. The house had sensed her presence. She lay flat on the freezing ground hoping it would not consider that a threat.
"Please," she whispered into the phone. "Get me the number of a cab service, any cab service, please."
The wall subsided. Apparently the house sensed no danger. The booms in the garden were at longer intervals now.
"All computerized cab services shut down outer city runs before dark." the impersonal voice told her.
The ground under her was freezing. She tried to ignore the bone sapping cold. "Please, please," she whispered desperately, "I am dying out here. There must be someone I can call. Isn’t there a single cab service that works after dark ?"
For a long moment there was silence. Then the metallic voice said, "there is a human cab service you may call. I must warn you that any human service is inferior and erratic and cannot compare with computer cabs."
"Just give me the number," she pleaded, too drained to do any more than hope.
After another pause the computer gave her the number.
She took a long, shaky breath and said a prayer as she forced her numb fingers to dial the number.
It kept ringing.
Pick up, for god sakes, pick it up, pick it up, you are my last hope.
It kept ringing.
She hung on, obstinately, remembering that it was human and therefore unreliable. Pick up, please, please, please pick up !
With a definite click a cheerful voice said, "Rajesh Human Cab Service. How can I help you ?"
The human voice after all those dead computer voices brought her near tears. She swallowed and managed to speak. "My house is shooting at me and it wont let me in. Please come and pick me up, please." she got it all out in one long breath.
"Hey, slow down, did you say your house wont let you in ?"
"Yes, yes, please I will pay you whatever you ask, please pick me up and take me to the city before I freeze to death." the phone almost slipped out of her numb fingers. She held onto it with both hands.
"Lady, if that’s your only problem you don’t need me."
He wasn’t going to come. She panicked and started to cry.
"Hey, wait a minute," there was concern in his voice. "What I mean is its really simple. Did you say your house was attacking you ?"
"Yes, yes," she sobbed.
"Has it stopped ?"
"Yes, but please, please come and get me. Please !"
"If you still need me after what I tell you I will come, I promise you. Now listen to me. Are you near the entry key box ?"
Her teeth were starting to chatter. "How can I be? Didn’t you hear me? It was shooting at me !"
"It has stopped hasn’t it ? Don’t worry it wont start again for at least fifteen minutes. Go to your entry box."
"I cant....."
"Listen lady, I know what I am doing. Houses attack people all the time. Just go to your entry box. Right now."
She got up painfully, moving with difficulty, expecting an attack any second. But the house didn’t react even when she climbed the low porch steps. Her crumpled dupatta and the mess from her purse were lying scattered, rimmed with frost. She was too tired even to avoid them. She stepped on something that cracked and didn’t even look to see if it was her credit computer or her data pac that she had destroyed.
"What do you mean houses attack people all the time ? I thought houses were the safest things in the universe !"
He sounded amused. "They have to say something. How else will they persuade people to buy houses armed with missiles and anti-air firepower ? Are you at the entry box ? Open it."
She blinked away the tears frozen to frost on her cheeks and fumbled with the catch. She almost lost the phone but managed to hang onto it and open the box.
"Good," he said. "Now at the bottom or side or someplace there is another lid. Find it and open it. What do you see inside ?"
It took her minutes to press the microscopic catch to open it. There were buttons and switches and circuits inside.
"Do you see a green button ?"
"There is a red button and a green button."
"That’s it," he sounded confident, "press the green button."
"Are you sure ?"
"Of course I’m sure. Houses do this all the time. Go ahead. Press the green button."
She hesitated. "But what if it self destructs ?"
"That’s the red button."
"But what if something goes wrong ? Why don’t you just come and get me ?"
"Lady if you are where I think you are it will take me an hour to get there. Can you last that long ? Instead you can be home and warm in two minutes. Listen, I know what I am doing. Press the green button."
"But is it safe ?"
He sighed. "Lady, the green button will reset your house computer. Believe me, I get cases like yours all the time. Just do it."
Something in his voice convinced her. He seemed so very certain. She reached out a frozen hand and managed to press the green button with it.
She waited. Nothing happened. " it didn’t work," she said.
"Sure it worked. Shut the box and punch in your entry code."
She punched it in, making errors with her unresponsive fingers, muttering under her breath, having to go back and correct the numbers several times. Rajesh waited patiently for her to finish.
Finally she got it right, finished the code and hit enter. For a long moment nothing happened. Then the porch lights blazed and a blast of warm air hit her as her front door slid open and the familiar computer voice said, " Welcome home, Meera."
She stumbled into the light and warmth and sank onto the soft carpet crying as the door whooshed shut behind her. "Oh, my god, it worked, it worked, the door opened. I’m home!"
"Good," Rajesh sounded pleased. " Are you alright ?"
"Yes, yes, I am. I just cant believe it ! I called everywhere and they told me I needed a court computer order....."
"Well, you’re home safe now." Rajesh said. "And you know what to do if it happens again. Don’t wait for it to attack. Reset it right away."
"I don’t understand how it could happen ? They said it could never fail. That there is a backup and both systems can’t ever fail together. Nobody mentioned any of this. They told me the house would never use its weapons at all. But it nearly shot me ! I could have died right on my front porch and no one would have cared !"
"That’s the price we pay for living in a world run by computers." Rajesh said. "That’s the price you pay for convenience. Do you know how many houses kill their owners every year ?"
At that moment she didn’t care. It was a worry for tomorrow but today she was alive and safe and very grateful.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she said, getting up and going to her most comfortable armchair. Warmth was coming back into her limbs, her favorite music played softly, the walls were shaded with her favorite forest green theme and the table was laid with her special choice of dishes. The mouth watering smell made her suddenly ravenous.
"Just remember," he said, " and this is important in this hi tech age. Just remember that computers rule the world but there is always a green button."
" I will never forget that." she said, wiping her tears, smiling now, sitting down to dinner.
Home at last.
|
