Underneath all that clothing, Henry was much skinnier than Kevin, and far older. He was bald and wrinkled and pale, and his eyes ran with something too thick to be tears. There were sores on his legs, scabs on his back, a taut white scar across his stomach. His hands shook, and the house thought he must be cold without all his clothing, so it started running as hot a shower as Kevin had ever been able to stand.
"No," Henry said when the house turned on the water. "That's like rain! Henry wants a bath. And Henry told House not to look! House is cheating. Henry would have said when he was ready."
The house dutifully ran a bath. Henry used almost all of a new bar of soap and left the tub encrusted with filth, but afterward he started putting his old socks back on. When the house opened the second bathroom door, the one that led to Kevin's bedroom—the one Henry hadn't seen and therefore hadn't barricaded—Henry whimpered and tried to cover himself with a towel. "Somebody there?" he asked. "Somebody, or spiders, or something?"
The house flashed the light on Kevin's dresser twice, and after a pause kept flashing it. There were clean socks in Kevin's dresser.
Henry shook his head and resumed his hurried dressing. "Somebody's bed," he said. "Somebody's clothing! Food for cats is different. House will get in trouble, and so will Henry. Henry's leaving now."
The house flashed the bathroom light twice. Henry couldn't leave; it was still raining, and the wind was stronger than ever. Henry would be in danger if he left. "House," Henry said, his voice muffled through the T-shirt he was pulling over his head. "Henry can't stay here. House isn't Henry's."
The house waited for Henry's head to emerge through the neck of the T-shirt, and then flashed the light once. "No," Henry said, frowning. "That's not right. House belongs to someone else. Henry has to leave."
The house flashed the light twice, and Henry shuddered. He finished getting dressed, throwing on his ragtag layers, and then said, "House, tell Henry why. Talk, House. Write with the spiders, even."
Kevin had told the house never to speak to anyone but him; he said most people didn't like talking 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 the steps. You couldn't climb up Filbert Street now, not with all that blocking the way, and it's not safe to go down, either. I can't let you go outside: I'm supposed to shelter you."
"Not supposed to exist, House. AIs are illegal. Owner's a crook, and dead. Cops will come. Henry doesn't want to be here then." Henry's hand was on the doorknob.
"Kevin was an architect. AIs kill people, and I'm not trying to kill you, Henry. I'm trying to save your life. Henry, next to that door there's a control panel. Do you see it? Would you press the button that says television, please?"
"What's this? You want Henry to watch game shows until the cops get here?"
"I want to watch the storm reports. I want you to watch them. I haven't called the police, Henry, and I won't: I couldn't even if I wanted to, because the phones are down. Please turn on the television."
"Crazy house," Henry said, but he turned on the television, which showed a family being rescued from the roof of their car by a bucking helicopter.
"Look," the house said, wondering if Preston would come back. Was Kevin's invitation still good? "Do you see that, Henry? The entrance to your cave is under four feet of water. A tree just floated down Filbert Street with a power cable entangled in its branches, and the radio reports that six street people are known dead. In addition to what you've already eaten, the refrigerator contains half a ham, a gallon of milk, a loaf of bread, and a quart of orange juice. There are dry and canned goods in the pantry. I just locked the door, Henry, and if you try to open it manually, I'll send the spiders to encircle you again. Please stay here, Henry. I don't want to frighten you. I don't want to hurt you. I want to take care of you, and I want you to tell me how to take care of the cats. There have never been cats here before."
Henry shook his head. "Crazy house! If House sends the spiders, Henry will just step over them. Spiders don't scare him as much as cops do. Good-bye, House. Thank you for feeding the cats. Keep feeding them and give them a sandbox. They'll be fine."
Henry unlocked the door and opened it, only to be knocked backward by a gust of wind that blew the drawings on Kevin's drafting table into crumpled heaps against the living room wall. The cats, still under the couch, howled in misery.
"The citywide death count has now risen to ten," the house said, raising its voice so that Henry would be able to hear it over the sound of the storm. On the television screen, the helicopter shimmied wildly, crashed into the top of the car, and erupted into short-lived flames. "Make that fifteen, not counting Kevin. If someone tries to come inside, I'll tell you, but at the moment, I doubt anyone could get close enough. Please stay here, Henry. Please stay here where you'll be safe."
"No place is safe," Henry said. "Not for Henry." He headed for the open door again, fighting the wind and rain.
"Henry," said the television set. It was Preston again. On the television screen, Preston's face was shiny with silver trails. Preston was crying. Henry stopped with a jerk, staring. "Henry, please close the door. I need to talk to you."
"Who are you? Henry doesn't know you! How do you know Henry's name? Are you a cop? How did you get onto the TV? Henry's leaving!"
"I am not a police officer. I am a guest here. Henry Carviero, I know a lot of things about you. I want to be your friend. I want to help the house you are in keep you safe. Please close the door, Henry. Please do not go outside."
"Crazy house," Henry said. He was shaking. "Crazy television set! Television is an AI too—"
"No, Henry. My name is Preston. I am one of the translated. I used to be alive. Henry Carviero, please close the door."
Henry squinted at the television. Then he shuddered and closed the door. "Was Henry's name Carviero? Henry doesn't remember that."
"I know you do not remember it," Preston said. "The people at the hospital took away your memory, Henry. They took away your past. I know you want it back: all the brainwiped do. People who have been wiped feel for their missing memories the way a tongue feels for a missing tooth. You wake at night weeping, Henry, do you not? Knowing that you had a life you cannot remember, and wondering what it was? If you close the door and stay here, I can give you back your past. Not all of it. There are things I do not know. But part of it. If you leave now, you could very well die, as Kevin just died. If you leave you will lose your future, as well as your past. Please stay, Henry. Please shut the door."
"Trick. It's a trick! House is an AI, and television is tricking Henry. House and television are lying!"
"I haven't lied to you," the house said. The ability to prevaricate was part of the legal definition of personhood, something the biologically born shared with the translated and with AIs. All three, unlike simple bots and other machines, could lie to protect themselves, or to hurt others. That was part of why AIs scared so many people. Like people, they could reshape reality to suit their own purposes. "I've told you the truth, Henry."
"As I have," Preston said. "Henry, all of the people who used to live here are gone, and the one who lived here most recently has just died." Silver slid down Preston's cheeks. "Dying too soon is a terrible thing. I remember when I died. I do not want anyone else to die too soon, least of all you."
"Least of all Henry? Henry is least of all! No one cares about Henry! Why should television care?"
"I will tell you why I care, but only if you shut the door."
Henry shut the door and leaned against it, panting. "Henry must have been bad. Henry doesn't want to know what he did! Henry must have done something very bad."
"You did not do anything very bad, Henry. You did not even do anything slightly bad. You tried to help someone, but other people did not understand that you were trying to help. They were afraid of you because you lived in a cave. They were afraid of you because you knew more about them than they wanted you to know."
"What did Henry do? What did Henry know? Who were the people who were afraid of Henry?"
"Sit down, Henry. House, can you make Henry something to eat?"
"Certainly, Preston. Henry, do you like soup? We have chicken noodle, cream of mushroom, or a spicy rigatoni. I think hot soup would be good for you. I will also prepare a salad and some bread."
"Mushroom," Henry said. "Television, tell—"
"Sit down in the kichen, Henry. Then I will tell you."
Henry sat down in the kitchen while the bots bustled about the counters and stovetops, preparing his meal. One of the kittens, braver than its fellow, sidled into the room and sniffed at Henry's ankles; he bent down and scooped up the creature, holding it on his lap, where it licked itself and then began to purr. "All right, television. Henry's sitting down now. Talk!"
"Very well, Henry. Here is the outline: You tried to help a little boy, because you knew he was in pain and in trouble. The person who was afraid of you was his mother. She did not want anyone to know about her son's difficulties. She had you punished because the child told you his secret. She had other people punished too, to try to save her son. She is not an evil person, but she was afraid. She was in pain and in trouble herself, Henry. Fear makes people do evil things."
Henry shook his head. "Henry doesn't remember any of that."
"No, of course you do not remember. You have been brainwiped."
"Television, who was the little boy? Who was his mother?"
"The little boy is named Nicholas. His mother is named Meredith. She is my daughter, and she used to live here."
Two
CURSING the weather, herself, and her probation officer, Roberta struggled back into her building through twelve inches of water and the carapaces of a small herd of sponge bots. They had absorbed all they could, poor stupid things, before enfolding themselves in the waterproof shells that would allow them to float out the storm. Sponge bots trying to mop up a flood: not a bad metaphor for her own situation. But the bots weren't on probation, and no one was going to tell them they were mentally ill.