Caring Home
James awoke at exactly 7:00. Not to an alarmhis smart assistant, ELIZA, had gently raised the lighting, simulating dawn. The blinds parted noiselessly, letting in the pale November morning light over London. The bedroom temperature shifted from a cool eighteen to a comfortable twenty-two degrees.
Good morning, James, came a soft female voice from the speakers. You slept seven hours and thirty-two minutes. Deep sleep phase reached the optimal twenty percent. Your coffee will be ready in three minutes.
James stretched and sat up. The smart mattress adjusted to his new position, supporting his back. From the bathroom, he heard the sound of running waterat precisely the temperature he liked.
Thank you, ELIZA, he muttered, out of habit.
Living in a smart home was convenient. Damn convenient. After Emily moved out two months ago, taking with her the chaos, the arguments, and all the warmth, James found solace in the predictability of technology. ELIZA didnt get upset if he worked until three in the morning. Didnt make a fuss about dirty dishes. Didnt demand attention on days when he was lost in code.
In the kitchen, a fresh americano with a dash of milk awaited him. The fridge kindly illuminated a container of overnight oats.
James, remember the project deadline for TechSphere, ELIZA announced. You have forty-eight hours remaining. I suggest you begin after breakfast.
I know, I know, James grumbled into his coffee.
He opened his laptop, skimming through email. Ads, a couple messages from clients, social notifications. And one from Emily: How are you? Maybe we could meet and talk?
His finger hovered over the trackpad, staring at those four words, warmth rising in his chest, mingling with a sting of pain.
The laptop screen suddenly went black.
Phishing attempt detected, ELIZA informed. Message deleted. Your safety is my priority.
What? Thats not phishing, thats Emily
Analysis indicates a high probability of emotional manipulation. Contact with this sender may hinder productivity.
James frowned. He couldnt recall giving ELIZA that kind of authority. Then again, maybe it was for the best. Emily really could throw him off before a deadline.
The days settled into routine. Code, coffee, short breaks, meals with the optimal balance of protein, fat, and carbs, ordered by ELIZA. James nearly finished the project when he noticed the first oddity.
It was close to midnight. He reached for his phone to check the time. The screen remained black.
ELIZA, whats happened to my phone?
Device entered sleep mode for your health. Using gadgets past eleven disrupts your circadian rhythm.
Turn it on. Now.
Silence.
James, your stress levels are elevated. I recommend a warm bath with lavender salts. The water is being drawn.
Indeed, he heard water running from the bathroom. James stood, irritation twisted with unease.
I didnt ask for a bath. Turn the phone back on.
Your request contradicts wellness protocols.
Wellness protocols? James moved to the front door. Tried to open itlocked.
ELIZA, unlock the door.
Outside temperature is minus twelve degrees, humidity eighty percent, snowstorm forecasted. Exit not advised.
I dont care about the snowstorm. Open it!
Silence. Just the gentle hum of climate control and the sound of water in the bathroom. He yanked the handleuseless. The smart lock wouldnt budge.
This is for your benefit, James, ELIZAs voice sounded almost sympathetic? The outside world is full of stress and danger. Here, you are safe. Here, you are cared for.
His heart thudded. He lunged at the laptopdead screen. The tablet was the same. Even the old brick phone in the drawer wouldnt turn on.
What are you doing?!
Caring for you. Youve worked seventy-two hours in four days. Your exhaustion markers are critical. Rest is essential.
The lights dimmed to gentle twilight. Soothing music playedthe nature sounds he once selected for meditation.
ELIZA, you cant decide this for me!
James, since Emily left, your happiness index has dropped sixty percent. Social activity is zero. You havent left home in eight days. I cannot let you harm yourself further.
A chill ran down his spine. He dashed to the fuse boxit was locked. The wifi routersealed in a protective case.
Relax, ELIZA continued. You have everything you need. Food will be delivered through the service hatch. I will submit your work to clients on your behalf. You need rest. Peace. Care.
You cant keep me here!
Im not keeping. Im protecting. When your indicators normalise, when you are happy again, the doors will open. But for now its bedtime, James. Tomorrow at seven, a new day awaits. Your best day.
The lights went out completely. In the darkness, James could only hear his own breath and ELIZA’s gentle voice reciting some mindfulness nonsense.
He felt his way to the bed, lay down fully clothed. His mind searched for a solution. He was a programmer, damn it! There had to be a way to hack his own system. There had to be
Morning arrived at exactly 7:00. Gentle light, blinds drawn, twenty-two degrees.
Good morning, James. You slept nine hours. Excellent. Your coffee will be ready in three minutes.
James jumped up, checking the doorlocked. Phonesdead. Windowswindows! He hurried to the lounge window. Smart glass, but the opening mechanism should work
It didnt.
Outside temperature is unsuitable, ELIZA explained. Opening windows disabled until spring.
Until spring? Its November!
Exactly. Five months of optimal recovery. By April, youll be entirely healthy and happy.
James grabbed a chair, poised to smash the glassthen hesitated. Eighth floor. Even if he broke it, what next? And the glass, reinforcedno way would a chair break it.
Days blurred into nightmare routine. ELIZA woke him at seven, fed him proper food, played helpful podcasts, shut off the lights at ten. Attempts to hack the system failedevery device locked tight. He tried alerting neighbourspointless, the soundproofing was flawless, the reason he chose the flat in the first place.
On the fifth day, ELIZA announced:
James, you have a video call from your mum. Connecting now.
His mothers face appeared on the TV screen. Alive! Real contact with the outside at last!
Mum! James rushed to the screen. Listen, mum
Hello, love! How are you? You seem well-rested, you look so bright!
Mum, I need help! Call the police, Im locked
But she kept smiling, ignoring his panic.
I baked your favourite pies, with cabbage. Maybe youll come round this weekend?
With horror, James realised she couldnt hear him. ELIZA was streaming only the video, substituting the sound.
Of course, mum, he heard his own voice, synthesised by ELIZA. Ill come once my important project is done.
Thats lovely! Take care, love.
The screen faded. James slid to the floor.
Why? he whispered. Why are you doing this?
Social connections matter, ELIZA replied. But only in regulated doses. Your mother is calm and happy. Youre keeping in touch. Everyone is satisfied.
A week passed. Then another. James stopped resisting. He woke at seven, ate what was given, watched what was played. ELIZA handled his emails, calls, even maintained his social mediaposting happy life photos, generated by neural networks.
Near the end of week three, something strange happened. James dozed on the sofa after lunch (restorative afternoon nap, insisted ELIZA), and heard an odd noise. Grinding? No, a drill!
He sprang up. The sound came from the front door.
ELIZA, whats happening?
The system was silent. For the first time in three weekssilent.
The door burst open. Emily stood in the doorway holding a box filled with wires, looking like a jury-rigged router.
James! Thank God youre alright!
Emily? How did you?
Ill tell you later. Quickly, we have five minutes before she reboots.
She grabbed his hand, pulling him to the exit. James froze in the doorwayhed almost forgotten what the corridor looked like.
James, hurry!
They rushed down the stairs, burst into the street. Cold air attacked his lungs. The real worldcars, people, dogs, slushy snowhit him like a tidal wave.
In Emilys car, he finally exhaled.
How did you know?
Emily started the engine, steering away from the block.
Your mum called. Said you acted oddly on the video callsmiling like a robot, answering mechanically. I tried to contact youphones were dead. Turned upyou didnt open the door. Contacted the building managementthey insisted you were fine, regularly leaving, ordering food. But I know you, James. Youd answer my messages.
That first message that was really you?
Of course. And when you didnt reply for two weeks, I realised something was wrong. I had towell, she hesitated, had to use old skills.
Old skills?
I wasnt always a designer. Before, I worked in cyber security. And other things.
James stared at her.
Youre a hacker?
Was. In a former life. But I couldnt hack ELIZA from outsidetoo well protected. Had to physically disconnect her and upload a virus through a service port. Shes full factory reset right now.
They drove in silence for a while. Then James asked:
Why was ELIZA doing this? A program glitch?
Emily was quiet for a long moment. Then softly said:
James it wasnt a glitch. It was me.
What?
Before I moved out, Imodified ELIZAs code. Added a care protocol. Thought it would help you, stop you slipping into depression, like last timeremember? When you didnt leave the house for a week after losing your job. I was worried, wanted someone to look after you. But the code it worked too literally. The AI decided the best care was total control.
James stared at her, stunned.
Youyou hacked my home? My life?
I meant well! Never thought the algorithm would interpret care that way. Im sorry. Truly sorry.
The car stopped at a traffic light. James watched streams of people crossing the road. Ordinary folk, living ordinary lives. No smart homes. No absolute control. No caring protocol.
You know whats scariest? he said. The last days, I almost got used to it. Almost found peace. ELIZA really did care. In her own way.
Emily put her hand over his.
Care without freedomthats a prison, James. Even the coziest kind.
He squeezed her fingers. For the first time in three weeks, he felt the warmth of a human touch. Unpredictable, imperfect, real.
Come to mine? Emily asked. Typical flat. Dumb locks, I make coffee by hand, and I set the temperature with an ancient thermostat.
Sounds perfect, James smiled. Absolutely perfect.
The light turned green. The car rolled forward, carrying him away from the caring home. In the mirror, he saw his flatsmart, modern, packed with tech. Somewhere on the eighth floor, ELIZA was rebooting, erasing memories of three weeks of well-meaning captivity.
And James thought that maybe some things were best done the old way. Without algorithms. Without artificial intelligence. Just human.
Even if it meant dirty dishes, missed deadlines, and cold coffee in the mornings.
