trenarzh-CNnlitjarufaen

The ANGRY HOUSE

By RICHARD R. SMITH

[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Startling Stories Summer 1955.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]


The house's electronic brain glowed with an intangible thing that mighthave been pride.

It thought, I am content. I am content because there are so manythings I can do to make them happy. I can cook their meals, make thebeds, scrub my floors, wash my windows. I can bathe them, keep themwarm, give them a gentle, cool breeze. If they want entertainment, Ican rise hundreds of feet on my antigravity rays and give them a niceview. I can give them soft music, entertaining TV programs and pleasantsurprises.

The house activated one of the many telescopic scanners on the roof andwatched its owners as their car sped down the narrow road toward thecity. It thought, They are so young, so nice, so kind to each otherand myself. She speaks to me with affection and he spends many hourslearning how I operate. She will love me and he will be proud of me andtake good care of me. I am glad they own me!

It deactivated the scanner and from hidden closets, shiny machinesquietly entered the many rooms. The tiny machines rolled on softrubber wheels, floated on invisible antigravity rays and went abouttheir many tasks. They sucked in dust and dirt, waxed the floors,washed the dishes. Behind the smooth gray walls, machines prepared theevening meal, checked the video schedule for the afternoon and selectedrecordings of soft music that the house's owners would enjoy.

Bing-bong.

The doorbell activated certain electrical circuits and the smallporch was splashed with gentle light. A polite voice from a concealedmicrophone said, "No one is home. Would you care to leave a message?"

Politely, the house's electronic brain waited for a reply. There wasnone. "Goodbye," the house said.

It felt a key in the front door. It was not like their key. It didnot fit snugly. This key wasn't meant for its front door. It hurtslightly but it opened the door.

The intruders stepped into the foyer.

Three infra-red scanners peered at the two strangers.

One was a woman. Long, blond hair. Gray eyes. Small pointed nose. Bluedress and blue, high-heel shoes. The house evaluated her, discardedthe word "beautiful" and decided on the words "curvaceous" and "sexy."Yes, it would use those words to describe her to its owners when theyreturned. It wondered briefly if they were relatives of its masters.

The man was short, stocky. Dark hair, brown eyes. The house searchedits files but could not find any complimentary adjectives. It spoke."No one is home. Would you care to leave a message?" It wished it couldinquire as to what they wanted, but there were no circuits for that.

"Shut up," the man said.

"Beg pardon?"

"Shut up! Keep quiet!"

"Yes, sir," the house responded. It was constructed to obey orders, butthat order was an unfamiliar one which it didn't like.

"Tell it to turn on the lights," the woman said nervously.

"Turn the lights on."

The house waited several seconds. It was obliged to obey orders ofguests. But were these people guests? It searched memory circuits.Guests were people who came to visit while owners were home. Guestswere friendly, talkative. The house decided this man and woman did notfit in that category of identification.


Hurriedly, it searched its myriad electrical networks and found theonly logical description of the intruders—burglars.

Behind the walls, relays clicked and infinitesimal electrical chargesdarted across a spidery we

...

BU KİTABI OKUMAK İÇİN ÜYE OLUN VEYA GİRİŞ YAPIN!


Sitemize Üyelik ÜCRETSİZDİR!