David lived alone in a quiet apartment in downtown Chicago. Being a tech enthusiast, his home was fully automated. He had smart lights, a smart thermostat, and a high-end smart speaker in every room. He enjoyed the convenience of controlling his environment with simple voice commands.
But on a cold Monday night, the convenience turned into a nightmare.
It was 2:22 a.m. David was fast asleep when he was woken up by a faint, blue glow from his bedside table. His smart speaker had activated.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,” the speaker’s calm, synthetic voice whispered. “Could you repeat the request?”
David groaned, thinking a stray noise from the street had triggered it. “Go to sleep,” he muttered, pulling the blanket over his head.
The speaker didn’t turn off. Instead, it pulsed with a rhythmic, blue light.
“Playing ‘The Lullaby for the Uninvited’,” it announced.
A slow, distorted melody began to play. It sounded like a music box that had been submerged in water—warped, metallic, and deeply unsettling. David sat up, reaching for his phone to stop the music.
He opened the smart home app and went to the “Voice Activity” history to see what had triggered the device.
He found the recording from 2:22 a.m. He pressed play.
He heard the sound of his own heavy breathing as he slept. Then, he heard a second sound—a soft, rhythmic tapping, like fingernails on glass.
And then, a third voice.
It wasn’t David’s voice. It was a deep, raspy whisper that seemed to come from right next to the microphone.
“Ask it where the key is hidden, David.”
David felt his blood turn to ice. He was alone in the apartment. He checked the doors, the windows, the closets. Everything was locked. There was no one there.
He went back to the app and scrolled further down the history. He found recordings from every night for the past week, all at the same time: 2:22 a.m.
In every recording, the raspy voice was there, talking to the smart speaker while David slept.
“Tell him to look under the floorboards.”
“Tell him I’m getting closer.”
“Tell him the mirror is just a window.”
David grabbed a hammer and began to pry up the floorboards in the corner of his bedroom, where the voice had indicated. Beneath the wood, tucked into a small cavity, he found an old, rusted iron key and a single, yellowed photograph.
The photo was of David’s own bedroom, taken from the exact spot where his smart speaker now sat. But in the photo, a man was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at the sleeping figure of a much younger David.
The man in the photo had no face—just a smooth, pale surface where features should have been.
Suddenly, every smart speaker in the apartment began to chime in unison.
“Request received,” they all said at once. “Unlocking the final door.”
David heard the sound of a heavy bolt sliding back. But it wasn’t the front door. It was the sound of the large, ornate mirror in his hallway swinging open on hidden hinges.
He walked to the hallway, the iron key clutched in his hand. Behind the mirror was a narrow, dark passage that led deep into the walls of the building.
From the darkness, the raspy voice whispered, “You finally found the key, David. Now, come inside. It’s time to trade places.”
David’s smart speaker in the hallway pulsed red. “Guest recognized. Welcome home, Elias.”
David realized then that he wasn’t the owner of the apartment. He was the guest. And Elias—the man from the photo—was the one who had been waiting for the key to be found.
The speakers began to play the distorted lullaby again, louder this time.
David felt a sudden, sharp pain in his chest. He looked down and saw his hands beginning to turn pale and featureless, his skin smoothing over like polished marble.
He tried to scream, but his mouth was gone.
The next morning, a new tenant moved into the apartment. He set up his own smart speaker and asked it to play some upbeat music.
At 2:22 a.m., the speaker activated.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,” it whispered. “Did you want to know where David is hidden?”
The new tenant laughed, thinking it was just a glitch. He didn’t notice the faint, rhythmic tapping coming from behind the hallway mirror.
And he certainly didn’t notice the small, blue light pulsing in the darkness of the walls.
