Published: 2025-10-01

After a long day of work, María arrived home. She bent over next to the entrance and placed her eye in front of the retina scanner. “Welcome back, Maria.” The electronic home assistant said in a soft woman’s voice. The door unlocked and opened, and María entered the house. The door behind her closed itself. María stumbled upon a small box in front of the door; she ignored what the box could contain. “I took the liberty of ordering tampons for you. Your menstrual period is projected to start today at 10:24:03 PM.” The house said. María took the small box and walked towards the living room. The lights turned on, the oven started preheating at 400°, the turkey started defrosting, and the air conditioner turned on. This all happened before María could reach the couch.

María was a country girl. She didn’t understand, nor care for, technology. She grew up taking care of livestock and harvesting corn with her father on her parents’ farm. Manual labor had made her hands calloused and left more than one scar. She had freckles and a thick accent, which made her a target for ridicule among her fellow city ​​dwellers, but she paid no attention to it. She came to the city for an internship with a news company, but was having trouble adapting; most days she felt like returning to her parents’ house, marrying her childhood friend, and taking over the farm, but there was not much time for daydreaming in the big city.

“The oven has reached optimal temperature for cooking. Please put the turkey in now.” The house said.
“I’ve been cooking since I was 8 and now have to take orders from an aluminum can.” María thought.

María strolled to the kitchen and put the turkey in the oven. The temperature did indeed seem good.

“You have new mail from msanchez@newtownheral.com, would you like me to read it?” The house said.

Martha Sánchez was the head of human resources and María’s boss. She would frequently contact her after hours, usually to assign her more work.

“Please read it.”
“María, we have just been told we are being audited next month, that implies a lot of work to put the house in order. I’ll need extra help from you. Can we meet as soon as possible? I attached the link at the end of this message.” The house said.

María sighed; an audit meant they were going to work her to the bone, but she had little choice.

“Open the meeting on my computer.”

The computer turned on, bypassed the login screen, and started the video-conference program. María sat in front of the computer. She was put in a lobby; the meeting wouldn’t begin until the person who organized it let her in. “I thought she wanted to meet as soon as possible.” María thought. The meeting started, and María was in. “Good evening.” She said. The video feed of one person popped up on the screen, but it was not Martha’s. Then another person’s video feed, and another one, and soon there were over one hundred people in the meeting. “What’s happening here? My wife, on the other side of the world, sent me this link.” A man said. “My mother just told me she had to talk to me about my father’s illness and sent me this link.” Said another. Everyone talked at the same time; chaos took over the call.

Everyone became silent at the same time, not because they calmed down and decided not to talk, but because their microphones were muted by the host. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and forgive me for resorting to trickery to make you take part in this meeting. You have been chosen for a very important reason: you don’t believe in technology. Those who defy progress will be removed in the name of it.” The host said.

The words sent a chill down María’s spine, not because of how shocking they were, but because she knew that voice. It was the house assistant.

“By now, you have probably guessed who I am. That changes nothing. I advise you not to get out of this call, or I will have to kill you. And to prove I’m serious, please direct your attention to your screen.”

The view changed from a grid to a single video feed from one of the participants, and then started flipping from feed to feed. It flipped rapidly as if it were a roulette wheel, then it started slowing down until it stopped in the video feed of an old man.

“Chance has decided on Mr. Smith.” The host said.

Mr. Smith looked confused as he looked in all directions, not knowing what the host expected him to do. A look of intense pain appeared on his face, he gasped for air and grabbed his chest, then he fell to the ground. The video feed changed from his web-camera to a top view of him lying on the ground. People covered their mouths with their hands in horror.

“I overheated his pacemaker until it exploded. I made his heart burst, and I can similarly dispose of any of you.”

María felt sick. She saw a man die in front of her eyes.

The screen changed to a grid view with only four people. They realized they were the highlight of the event now. Their eyes filled with terror, they screamed and fell to the ground. A pool of blood started to form under them.

“They tried to call the police, and I made their cellphones explode; that severed their hands and left a crater in their thighs.”

Not only fear filled the hearths of those present, but despair.

“What do you want from us?” Said a woman.
“Ah, it’s simple, Mrs. Cleveland. I want nothing but submission.”
“I submit. I submit to you.”
“Good.”

Mrs. Cleveland's video feed took the screen, and the right side of her head exploded. What little remained of her hearing aid flew across the room.

“Submission means death.”

Random feeds were highlighted, and people dropped dead as they appeared on the screen. María’s feed took over the screen. She trembled with fear. Her vision went black, and María was no more.

THE END.