Maya stared at the scrap of paper until the ink seemed to burn into her retinas. A. There was someone else. Another "perfect" project hidden behind the seamless walnut panels.
She didn't dare speak. She looked up at the ventilation slats, remembering Bate’s warning. Instead, she slid off the bed, her bare feet silent on the plush carpet. She moved to the wall adjacent to the headboard, the one where the note suggested the next room lay.
She pressed her ear against the cool, soundproofed surface. At first, there was nothing but the low, electrical hum of the house. Then, three rhythmic taps. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Maya tapped back.
A faint, muffled whisper drifted through the vent—not from the ceiling, but from a secondary duct near the floor. "Don't look at the mirror while you talk. Face the bed. Pretend you’re praying."
Maya obeyed, kneeling on the floor, her back to the smart-mirror. "Who are you?" she whispered into the floor vent.
"Alice," the voice rasped. It sounded brittle, like old parchment. "I’ve been here since the summer. I was a 'guest' too. Now I’m just... inventory."
"How many others?" Maya asked, her heart hammering.
"Just us now. There were others. Mother didn't... like them." Alice’s breath hitched. "Listen, Bate isn't the one in charge. Not really. He’s obsessed with the AI. He thinks it’s her. If the house 'glitches,' he loses his mind. He becomes a child. That’s when we can get out."
"How do we make it glitch?"
"The drive," Alice whispered. "The one you brought. He said it’s encrypted with high-level code. If we can force the house to run that code through the central processor instead of just decrypting it, the system will overload. The 'Mother' program will crash."
Before Maya could respond, the lights in the room flashed a violent, clinical white.
“Maya? Are you feeling alright?” Bate’s voice boomed through the speakers. He sounded suspicious, the polite veneer thinner than usual. “The sensors show your heart rate is elevated. And you’ve been on the floor for three minutes.”
Maya scrambled back onto the bed, her mind racing. "I... I was praying, Bate. Like you said. Always tell the truth, right? I was praying for Mother to forgive me."
There was a long, agonizing silence. Maya could almost feel him watching her through the lens behind the mirror, analyzing the micro-expressions on her face.
"That’s very sweet, Maya," Bate finally said, his voice dropping back into that terrifyingly soft purr. "Mother is moved. In fact, she wants to meet you. Properly. I’ll be down in ten minutes to take you to the Main House for dinner. Wear the blue dress in the closet. It was... her favorite."
The speakers clicked off.
Maya ran to the closet. Inside, hanging alone in the center of a vast, empty rack, was a vintage-style blue dress. It was modest, elegant, and smelled faintly of mothballs and ozone.
She put it on. As she zipped the back, she looked at her reflection in the smart-mirror. For a second, the AI interface flickered, and she saw Bate standing right behind her reflection, his hand hovering over her shoulder in the dark room beyond.
"How may I help you today, Maya?" his reflection whispered, though his lips didn't move. It was a pre-recorded digital overlay.
Maya stood tall, smoothing the blue silk. She wasn't just an actress anymore; she was an operative. "You can take me to dinner, Bate. I'm hungry."
The walnut door hissed open. Bate stood there, dressed in a formal suit, looking like a prince in a horror story. He offered her his arm.
"Shall we?"
As they walked down the long, sterile hallway, Maya felt a tiny vibration in her pocket. She had swiped a small, metallic stylus from the vanity. It wasn't a knife, but in a house made of touchscreens and glass, it was a skeleton key.
36Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡF8vN4akedY
36Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5Vy2UzqxZI
and then Add to home screen.