The speech-recognition module included a speech synthesizer. Although the entire package had a limited capability, the state-of-the-art synthesized voice was pleasingly masculine, with an appealing timbre and gently reassuring tone.
Susan envisioned a tall man with broad shoulders, graying at the temples perhaps, with a Strong jaw, clear gray eyes, and a smile that warmed the heart. This phantom was, in her imagination, quite like the Alfred she had known but different from that Alfred because this one would never harm or betray her.
“Alfred, explain the alarm,” she said.
“All is well, Susan.”
“Damn it, Alfred, I heard the alarm.”
The house computer did not respond. It was programmed to recognize hundreds of commands and inquiries, but only when they were phrased in a specific fashion. While it understood “explain the alarm,” it could not interpret “I heard the alarm.” After all, this was not a conscious entity, not a thinking being, but merely a clever electronic device enabled by a sophisticated software package.
“Alfred, explain the alarm,” Susan repeated.
“All is well, Susan.”
Still sitting on the edge of the bed, in darkness but for the eerie glow from the Crestron panel Susan said, “Alfred trouble-check the security system.”
After a ten-second hesitation, the house said, “The security system is functioning correctly.”
“I wasn’t dreaming,” she said sourly. Alfred was silent.
“Alfred, what is the room temperature?” Seventy-four degrees, Susan.”
“Alfred stabilize the room temperature.” Yes, Susan.”
“Alfred explain the alarm.”
“All is well, Susan”
“Shit” she said.
While the computers speech package offered some convenience to the homeowner, its limited ability to recognize vocal commands and to synthesize adequate responses was frequently frustrating. At times like this, it seemed to be nothing more than a gadget designed to appeal strictly to techno geeks, little more than an expensive toy.
Susan wondered if she had added this feature to the house computer solely because, unconsciously, she took pleasure from being able to issue orders to someone named Alfred. And from being obeyed by him.
If this were the case, she wasn’t sure what it revealed about her psychological health. She didn’t want to think about it.
She sat nude in the dark.
She was so beautiful.
She was so beautiful.
She was so beautiful there in the dark, on the edge of the bed, alone and unaware of how her life was about to change.
She said, “Alfred, lights on.”
The bedroom appeared slowly, resembling a patinaed scene on a pictorial silver tray, revealed only by glimmering mood lighting: a soft glow in the ceiling cove, the nightstand lamps dimmed by a rheostat.
If she directed Alfred to give her more light, it would be provided. She did not ask for it.
Always, she was most comfortable in gloom. Even on a fresh spring day, with birdsong and the smell of clover on the breeze, even with sunshine like a rain of gold coins and the natural world as welcoming as Paradise, she preferred shadows.
She rose from the edge of the bed, trim as a teenager lithe, shapely, a vision. When it met her body, the pale silver light became golden, and her smooth skin seemed faintly luminous, as though she was aglow with an inner fire.
When she occupied the bedroom, the surveillance camera in that space was deactivated to ensure her privacy. She had locked it off earlier, on retiring. Yet she felt… watched.
She looked toward the corner where the observant lens was discreetly incorporated into the dental molding near the ceiling. She could barely see the dark glass eye.
In an only half-conscious expression of modesty, she covered her breasts with her hands.
She was so beautiful.
She was so beautiful.
She was so beautiful in the dim light, standing by the side of the Chinese sleigh bed, where the rumpled sheets were still warm with her body heat if one were capable of feeling it, and where the scent of her lingered on the Egyptian cotton if one were capable of smelling it.
She was so beautiful.
“Alfred, explain the status of the bedroom camera.”
“Camera deactivated,” the house replied at once.
Still, she frowned up at the lens.
So beautiful.
So real.