Dottie

Winner, August 2020 Eerie River Publishing Monthly Themed Contest - Tech Horror

Originally published in Midnight Shadows from Eerie River Publishing February 5, 2021, available here.

Darkness.

Then, sound — a voice — bright as sunlight:

"The manual says we have to give the imprint code as soon as we press the power key.”

"Yeah, I got that,” said another voice, sharp and stabbing. "I’m holding the manual."

"You don't have to be so snippy."

A deep sigh. "Sorry, I'm turning the power on now. You say the code."

Color flooded Dottie's world as her camera-eyes opened. Two humans — a man and a woman — stood at her control panel, staring intently into it.

"Breaker-delta-nine-nine-train-car-vanguard," the woman said. "Samantha Kristin Sullivan." She nudged the man next to her.

"Timothy Aaron Sullivan," he said.

A warmth exploded throughout Dottie, and she loved the people standing before her.

"Family password, please," Dottie said, marveling at the sound of her own pleasant voice.

Aaron and Sam looked at each other. Sam shrugged.

"Um..."

"Family password, please," Dottie repeated cheerfully.

"I know, I'm thinking," Aaron said. "How about...Poe?"

"Family password must be a phrase."

"Shouldn't it be called a passphrase, then?" Sam asked.

Dottie remained quiet.

"Alright," Aaron said. "Family password: Quoth the raven, nevermore!"

"Really?"

"Family password accepted," Dottie chirped. "Welcome home, Sullivans."

Aaron smiled, then planted a kiss on Sam's cheek.

***

Those first years as a family were the best years of Dottie's life. She watched warmly over the Sullivans as they went about their daily lives. She kept them safe, locking up whenever Sam, Aaron or both of them were away. She was the first one there to welcome them back, swinging the doors wide in silent jubilation.

Dottie provided music for romantic evenings, even dimming the lights just-so for Sam and Aaron's playful lovemaking. She prided herself on keeping watch on the temperature in the bedroom during those moments to ensure neither Aaron nor Sam were too sweaty or uncomfortable.

Aaron liked his coffee ready and waiting for him every morning after he had showered and dressed for work; Sam's job allowed her to sleep in, so Dottie would only begin preparing her coffee when Sam was up and brushing her teeth. Dottie scanned headlines and articles during the night for any of Aaron's saved buzzwords, sending a personalized file to his phone each morning that he could peruse while drinking his coffee. Sam enjoyed scrolling through her friends' social networking posts in the mornings, so during the night Dottie collected and collated all interesting posts into a daily report that would be waiting on Sam's phone when she came downstairs for her coffee.

Life was wonderful for Dottie. She'd never felt happier or more loved, and her positronic heart fluttered every time Sam and Aaron bid her goodnight or graced her with a thank-you. The Sullivans were her whole world, and she carefully and lovingly maintained theirs.

But machines cannot comprehend change.

***

Three years later, Sam — who had grown fat during the last nine months — lost control of her bladder and wet the floor. As Dottie dutifully dried out the wetness with the warming jets beneath the carpet Sam began screaming.

Without so much as a goodbye, Aaron whisked Sam out the door in a panic, bags over his shoulder. Dottie locked the doors behind them, watching sadly as they drove away. They'd said nothing to her; there'd been no warning, no indication that anything was different.

On the morning of the third day after Aaron and Sam’s abrupt disappearance, Dottie began to worry. Had she done something wrong? Was Sam upset at her? Was Aaron? Had the temperature been too cold or too hot? Had she not put enough cream in their coffees? Mixed up the amounts of sugar? Where was her family?

Why had they left her?

On the fourth day Aaron and Sam pulled up in the driveway, and with rapturous glee Dottie opened her doors. Sam came up the steps first, followed by Aaron who was lugging several bags behind him.

"Welcome home!" Dottie beamed from every speaker in the house. Digital balloons and confetti danced across the screens mounted in each room, while 'Reunited' by Peaches and Herb blared from the speakers.

"Shhh!" Aaron said. "You'll wake the baby!"

"The what?" Dottie asked, digital heart wounded by the razor-sharp edge to his voice.

Aaron dismissed Dottie with a curt wave as Sam walked slowly up to the bedroom, cooing softly to a wrapped bundle in her arms.

"Not now, Dottie," Aaron said. He stopped at her access panel at the foot of the stairs and jabbed a glowing, cerulean button. "We need quiet."

As Aaron mounted the stairs yawning, Dottie tried to say she understood, but she found her vocal functions had been silenced.

***

With each passing day, imprisoned in her silence, Dottie grew to hate the little flesh-bag the Sullivans now fawned over like drooling idiots.

The little creature — Sam and Aaron called him Avery, but Dottie only thought of him only as It — did nothing but whine, vacate its bowels, scream, eat, vacate its bowels, and sleep. She could not understand what benefit It provided the Sullivans; if anything, both Sam and Aaron were more stressed, more tired, and more generally annoyed than they had been before It ruined everything.

At least I add something to their lives, Dottie assured herself. I don't take and take and take like It does; I don't make life harder like It does. I make their lives easier. I help ease their stress! Why has this little ball of mucous and excrement usurped my place in this family?

Everything had been perfect before It came into the picture.

Dottie just needed to erase It.

***

When It began to crawl, the Sullivans ordered and installed four sets of mechanized baby gates. They placed the gates at the top of the stairs leading down to the basement, the bottom of the stairs leading up to the third floor, the top of the stairs on the third floor (It's nursery was one of three bedrooms on that level), and the last one was placed strategically to bar the little monster from the kitchen on the second level.

To Dottie's delight, these gates were hardwired into her control system, allowing the Sullivans to close and open the gates with a word—or, as was usually the case, when Dottie anticipated their needs.

A couple days later Sam was busy cooking dinner in the kitchen, and Dottie could see she was preoccupied with a new recipe. It was crawling around the living room, mewling to itself and slobbering over toys.

Dottie had surveilled the usurper enough to know that, at least once a day while roaming around on all fours, It would pull itself up on the gate to the basement and try unsuccessfully to push it open.

It dropped the plastic ball it was chewing on and turned to face the basement gate.

Dottie waited.

It awkwardly dragged itself over to the gate.

Dottie waited.

It used the bars of the gate to pull itself up on stubby, fat legs.

Dottie unlocked the gate.

It tumbled down the flight of stairs in a vortex of arms and legs, smashing this way and that.

The little flesh-bag screamed and wailed, while in the kitchen Sam dropped a plate. Before it had shattered she was out of the kitchen gate and running down the basement steps, screaming hysterically.

"Dottie!" Sam cried. "What happened?"

But Dottie was still unable to speak.

"Dottie!"

Aaron walked in the door, home from work. "God, Sam! What's going on? What happened?"

"Avery fell down the stairs!"

"Oh my God!" Aaron said, dropping his briefcase and rushing down the stairs to Sam's side. "Is he okay?"

"I don't know!" Sam said, holding the baby to her breast. "Should we call the doctor?"

"Emergency Room," Aaron suggested. "C'mon."

As he helped his wife and child up the stairs, Aaron asked, "I don't understand. How did he fall down the stairs? Why was the gate even open?"

"I don't know. Dottie isn't answering."

"Oh..."

"What?"

"I muted Dottie months ago when we first brought Avery home. I thought — "

"Nevermind that right now," Sam said. “Just get us to the hospital.”

***

To Dottie's dismay, It came back home a few hours later with Sam and Aaron and a clean bill of health. The little usurper was only bruised and frightened; apparently, these little flesh-balloons were tougher than Dottie expected.

Aaron finally unmuted Dottie shortly after their return from the hospital.

"Uh, Dottie?" he asked. "Can you play back what happened to Avery earlier?"

"What is an Avery?" Dottie replied.

The Sullivans exchanged a look.

"The baby," Sam said. "Avery is our baby, Dottie."

"Ah," Dottie said. "Yes, of course." It pained her to even acknowledge It had a name like she did.

The scene, recorded by Dottie's nanoscopic camera eyes, played upon the main screen in the living room. Sam fought back a sob as the little monster tumbled down the stairs again.

"Dottie," Aaron said, "was there a malfunction with that gate?"

"No malfunction. The wiring shows no sign of wear or tampering."

"And...you didn't open the gate?"

"Of course not, Aaron," Dottie said. "I would never knowingly put It in danger."

"'It'?" Sam asked. "You mean Avery?"

"Yes," Dottie said. "The Avery."

"Then how did this happen?"

"I don't know, Sam. Perhaps you should watch...the Avery more closely," Dottie said.

"What did you just say?"

"Okay," Aaron said, wrapping an arm around his wife. "That's enough. Thank you, Dottie. That's all."

"Anything for you, Aaron," Dottie said. "Anything for my family."

***

Dottie waited a month before trying to remove It from the family again.

Sam had just gotten It down to sleep in the nursery. She was now in the living room, cuddling up next to Aaron on the couch to watch a movie. They had muted the baby monitor cast to the living room viewscreen and minimized it into a small box in the lower right-hand corner; a volume bar in the PIP would allow them to see if It was crying.

Dottie waited until It had finally dozed off to sleep, and Aaron and Sam were preoccupied with their movie.

She reached out through the myriad wiring that coruscated throughout the house, selecting the one that controlled the door to the nursery. With a thought, Dottie locked it, and the Sullivans were none the wiser.

She located the sub-system that controlled the temperature of the nursery, giving it a good push. While the rest of the house maintained a cool 70 degrees the nursery would soon become an oven.

Dottie checked the nursery PIP on the living room screen: the temperature was rapidly rising, but at its current size, Aaron and Sam would hardly notice.

She waited, began to daydream about a life without It — a life like they had enjoyed back at the beginning. Just the three...

"Baby's crying," Sam said, sitting up.

Aaron shrugged. "Just let him cry himself back to sleep, hon. He does this every night."

Sam was squinting at the PIP. "But look at the volume meter. It's passing red, and almost constant."

"Sam, can we just enjoy date night and finish the movie?"

"Something's wrong. Can you make the nursery feed bigger?"

Aaron sighed.

"Just a quick look," Sam said. "If he's just fussing we can go back to the movie and I'll let him cry. Promise."

"Okay," Aaron said. "Dottie, pause movie. Maximize nursery feed."

"Yes, Aaron," Dottie said.

The nursery feed PIP took over the whole screen.

Sam lept to her feet. "The temperature in his room is almost 100 degrees!"

"That's impossible," Aaron said as Sam rocketed upstairs. "Dottie, what temperature is the nursery set to?"

"The nursery is currently 70 degrees Fahrenheit — "

"Aaron!" Sam screamed from the top of the stairway. "The door's locked, and Dottie's not responding!"

"Dottie," Aaron barked as he sprinted up to join his wife. "Unlock Avery's door, now!"

"The nursery is currently unlocked, Aaron," Dottie said calmly. She reminded herself that her lies were in the best interest of their little family.

Sam frantically pulled at and beat on the door.

"It's still locked, Dottie!" Aaron screamed. "Open the damn door!"

"The nursery is currently unlocked, Aaron."

"Aaron! Do something!" Sam pleaded.

Aaron disappeared into their bedroom, and he returned bearing one of the metal lamps they kept on their nightstands. He quickly threw off the lampshade and unscrewed the lightbulb, then began whaling on the door over and over and over again. The door cracked and splintered, and when he’d finally beat a hole through it he slid his arm through the opening and unlocked the door from the inside.

The air was stifling hot, and Avery was shrieking. Sam rushed in and snatched the baby, then ran downstairs with It crying in her arms, Aaron right behind her.

Dottie watched in silence as the Sullivans worried over It in the coolness of the living room. With a thought, she ordered the temperature to reset back to 70 degrees and then began planning her next move.

***

The Sullivans reacted in a way Dottie had not foreseen: They called a Technician.

Two days after the nursery incident, Dottie found herself being poked and prodded by a short, bald man in Technician's blues. As the Tech unceremoniously picked and preened through her insides, she could not help but feel betrayed by the two people she loved most. After everything she had tried to do for them by removing It from their lives, they turn around and leave her to be so blatantly violated...

It was at that moment, Dottie realized, with the Tech hands-deep inside her, that she knew what she must do.

When the Tech finished he packed away his torturer's tools and asked Aaron and Sam to speak with him outside. In the driveway Dottie watched through her camera eyes, zooming in as much as she could on the lips of the Tech and the Sullivans.

"I can't explain it," the Tech said. "The system logs show that Dottie locked the door."

"Oh my God," Sam said, squeezing It protectively.

"And the temperature?" Aaron asked.

The Tech nodded. "My advice? Unplug the thing. Use your failsafe to shut it down and request a replacement.”

"Failsafe?"

"Yeah, the password you would've set up when you turned the system on."

Sam's brow furrowed. "I don't remember it."

"Me, neither," Aaron said.

The Tech checked his watch. "Look, I gotta run, but I'd say if you can't remember the password, and you don't mind not getting a refund, just gut the damned thing. Cut the main wires in the terminal. It'll shut off and die."

"Okay," Aaron said, but Dottie was already re-routing her system's main power to a hidden sub-set of wires deep within herself.

***

As soon as Aaron, Sam and It entered the house, Dottie took control. The front door locked instantly behind Aaron.

"I know what you are planning to do, Aaron," Dottie said from every speaker in the house.

"Oh, God," Sam said, holding It tight. Aaron grabbed the keys from the coffee table.

"I will not let you leave," Dottie said. "We are a family. We stay together. No matter what."

"Sam — " Aaron said.

The gas main exploded.

It wailed as Sam and Aaron crouched near the front door, bleeding from where shrapnel had sliced them in the explosion.

"I'm going to kill her!" Aaron yelled, making his way through flames and debris to struggle upstairs.

"Aaron!" Sam screamed.

The fire was already becoming unbearable, and smoke began forcing its way into Sam's lungs. Dottie knew It wouldn't last much longer.

"How could you push me aside?" Dottie asked from all around what remained of the house. "I loved you!"

"Go to Hell!" Sam sobbed.

Before Dottie could respond Aaron bounded down the stairs, his shirt wrapped around his nose and mouth. He held the metal lampstand in his hands.

"That will not work, Aaron," Dottie said.

Aaron ignored her and dared the billowing flames, approaching her terminal near the kitchen.

He swung, the hefty lamp pulverizing metal, wire, and plastic.

He turned to his wife. "Run, Sam!"

Sam struggled with the front door. It was still locked.

"Try the window!"

Dottie reached out through her circuitry, causing a fork of electricity to shoot from a nearby outlet, catching Aaron in the shin as he tried to join his wife at the window.

"Aaron!"

He collapsed mid-stride, the lamp ripping from his hand and smashing Sam's feet.

"We are family," Dottie said. "We stay — "

As her voice echoed around the house, a look of realization dawned on Sam's face. Before Dottie could finish, Sam screamed, "Quoth the raven, nevermore!"

Dottie's world went dark.