caffeinewitchcraft:

The Apartment

Summary: Emmaline isn’t lonely. The AI in her family’s apartment makes sure of that.

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Please, don’t do it.

Emmaline barely sees the message on the control pad, caught in her sweater as she is, one arm successfully ensconced in a sleeve and the other unsuccessfully through the neck hole. She stops with one foot over the kitchen threshold and struggles to sort her clothing out. It’s unusual for House to communicate unprompted and, as far as she knows, she’s the only one up this early. By the time everything is going through the right hole, the message is gone.

She glances up at the ceiling, frowns, and then back to Apartment’s screen. Only kids think the AI is in the ceiling and she’s not a kid anymore. “Everything okay, Apartment?”

The control pad is dark, set into the wall next to light switches they haven’t used since they installed Apartment seven years ago. She knows that Apartment isn’t really in the ceiling - isn’t really anywhere in fact – but it’s habit. If she thinks about where Apartment actually is, she feels…weird. Not bad, really, but the diagram of where Apartment lies is unsettling. The circuitry involved in the AI that controls their environment reminds her of veins and arteries, twisting from room to room. All around them.

Bring a coat today, Apartment writes. The words are icy blue against the black screen, the letters appearing one by one as if typed. Apartment only writes like that for her, as if remembering all those years ago when it practiced her letters with her. It’s going to rain.

“Okay,” Emmaline says. She watches the words for a moment. Could she have imagined the first message? Maybe. Her stomach twists. “See you later.”

The heater kicks on, purring through the ducts as if seeing her off.

——-.

Mom is home when Emmaline gets back from school.

Emmaline toes her shoes off at the front door next to her mom’s black pumps, patting the wall in thanks when her bare feet touch warmed floorboards. Her mother isn’t the easiest person to be around lately. Emmaline has to hide a snort at that. Her mother has never been the easiest person to be around.

A message darts across the screen next to the shoe rack. The shower is ready for you, Emma.

Emmaline smiles a little. Apartment is the only one who calls her by her nickname. “I’m going to get a snack first.”

There’s a flicker and Apartment writes, The water is already running.

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