Shelter Read Online Free PDF Page B

houses, and he'd hidden the voice switch so that no one could tum it on by mistake. But Kevin wasn't coming home, and Henry kept talking to the house, so what could be wrong with talking back?
        The house used a bot to guide Henry back through the living room into the kitchen. The kittens, who had cautiously begun to explore the living room while Henry was bathing, screeched and ran back under the couch when they saw the bot, and Henry sighed. "It's okay, cats. Don't be scared." But he followed a safe, cautious distance behind the bot, a longlegged climbing unit. The bot swung itself gracefully across the floor until it was directly underneath Kevin's carefully alphabetized spice rack. Then it nimbly scaled the wall, until it was close enough to lift the jar of cayenne pepper and reveal the dull gray toggle switch underneath.
        "Henry hopes nothing blows up," Henry said as he flipped the switch. "Spiders can't do this?"
        "Thank you very much, Henry," the house said when it could speak again, and Henry shook all over, once, like the neighbor's poodle did when it got caught in the rain. ''I'm not allowed to use my bots to work that switch."
        "Smart house ... House, where's owner?"
        "Kevin's dead," the house said. "He went outside two hours ago, Henry. I told him not to. I told him it was dangerous, but he turned off my voice so he wouldn't have to listen. A stop sign blew through the driver's window into Kevin's head. I heard his heart stop."
        "He went out? In wind? Why?"
        "He wanted to help Merry," the house said. "She was his ex-wife. She called him to ask for help. He cared about her, so he wanted to help her, just like I wanted to help Kevin because I cared about him. He said I didn't really care; he said I'd just been programmed to think I cared, and maybe that's true, but I still cared the best I could, and I still wish he hadn't gone outside. He can't help Merry now, and I can't help him."
        Halfway through this speech, Henry's eyes had widened. "AI," he said. "Henry thought so. Too smart, House. No wonder House's voice was off. Owner must have been a crook, to put a brain in here."
        "Kevin was an architect," the house said. "I don't know why he gave me a brain; his brain was better than mine, so he must have had a reason. He told me that I was a machine for shutting out the sky. But I know I'm not an AI, Henry. AIs think they're people, and I know I'm not a person."
        "Walls shut out," Henry said. "Brains think. House is an AI, for sure." Kevin had once told the house that people would be afraid if they thought it was too smart. After watching news stories, it understood why. The very smartest machines were AIs, and AIs were dangerous. AIs had killed people. "Don't be afraid," the house said. "How could I mistake myself for a person, Henry? People are living creatures. Kevin told me that I'm like an animal because I have a brain, and like a plant because I draw power from the sun, but that I'm less than an animal or a plant because I was built instead of born, and because I can't grow or reproduce or make anything more important than coffee. He told me that I have a small brain, smaller than a dog's, and that not everything with a brain is smart. He said many houses have brains."
        Henry laughed. "They nice to strangers? House is the dog knocks over the burglar, licks him till cops get there. Same as biting, in the end. House is an AI, and AIs are against the law."
        He walked back into the living room, toward the back door, and the house realized that, like Kevin, he was going to leave. "No," it said. "I'm not an AI, Henry. I know that I'm not as smart as a person, and I know you can't go outside. It's raining too hard, and the mayor just declared a state of emergency. Within the past half hour, two bicycles, six trash cans, a baby stroller, and our neighbor's life-size plastic garden statue of the Virgin Mary have been swept down