Pleasant Valley Premium

Submitted into Contest #273 in response to: Write a story that hides something from the reader until the end.... view prompt

2 comments

Science Fiction Fiction Speculative

“It’s so green,” muttered Jane, as the perfectly manicured lawns of Pleasant Valley glided past the car window. “They must pay the gardeners a fortune.”


“Drones,” said Dan from the driver’s seat. “Garden drones.”


Jane searched her husband’s face for signs of sarcasm. Even after 3 years of marriage, she still couldn’t tell when he was toying with her.


Dan chuckled. "It’s true,” he insisted, nodding his head towards something in the distance, “Look -”


Jane followed his gaze to a neatly trimmed, emerald-green nature strip. Hammered into the grass was a sign that read: THIS HOME IS PROTECTED BY SENTINEL SECURITY; above it hovered a silver disc no bigger than the lid of a tin can.


Jane’s eyes widened, “Wait, that tiny little thing waters the plants?”


“And prunes the hedges, and clears the leaves, and mows the lawns…”


Jane was about to ask how something so small could be capable of such strenuous tasks when a series of tiny nozzles burst from the drone’s compact circular body and spritzed the grass with water.


“I don’t know,” she mused, sceptically, “seems like an awful lot of work for one drone.”


Dan nodded, “that’s why they give you 50.”


"50?"


“More if you go Premium."


Jane gasped.


"You’ll never need to garden again.”


Jane laughed, but she couldn’t help feeling a twinge of sadness. She didn’t mind pottering about in the garden when the mood struck her. In fact, little tasks like repotting a plant or pulling out weeds by hand often helped her to clear her head when she was feeling restless or stuck in a funk. The thought that those opportunities would soon be taken away from her made her uneasy.


“In fact,” Dan continued, “between the garden drones, the robotic housekeeper, and the smart fridge, you'll barely need to lift a finger after we move in.”


“What will I do with all my free time?” Jane wondered aloud. She hoped Dan might have some suggestions because she didn’t have a clue.


Dan and Jane drove on, leaving the drone to hover over the freshly watered patch of lawn and wait for its next task.


A gust of wind swept through the high-tech housing development and the silver saucer bobbed and swayed in the draught. Above it, a leaf, shaken free from a nearby oak, began a gentle descent to earth. As it floated down towards the soft grass below. The little disc began to twitch and hum. The nozzles on the side of its body retracted and six, slim metal limbs appeared in their place. Then it launched itself towards the leaf, grabbed it in its metal talons and tore it to pieces. With nothing more to attend to, the drone withdrew its claws and returned to floating placidly in mid-air.


A few streets away, Dan rolled the car to a stop in front of a freshly painted, snow white, two-storey home.


The couple climbed out of the car and Jane stared up at the house. It had floor-to-ceiling bay windows, a wraparound porch and a front door adorned with a big red bow.


“Oh Dan,” Jane gasped, taking it all in, "It's amazing. Is it really ours?"


"I hope so," he muttered, "otherwise, I've just wasted a tonne of cash."


Jane threw her arms around his neck and peppered his face with kisses, "I love it!" she cried, "I love it! I love it! I love it!"


“Then let’s get inside and you can show me how much,” Dan said, playfully swatting her on the behind.


Jane squealed and thrust her hands towards him, "Gimme the keys!"


Her husband's face fell. "Keys," he grimaced with distaste.


Jane's smile faded.


“You don’t have the keys?” she asked, timidly. 


Dan sighed and shook his head as if thoroughly disgusted with his beloved. He walked away, climbing the three steps to the front door and gesturing to a black glass rectangle affixed to it.


“Keys," he said, "are for plebs."


Then, he raised the index finger of his right hand and winked at his wife, “We’re Premium, baby.”


Dropping his finger onto the touchpad, Dan waited for the home’s high-tech security system to unlock the door and let them in.


The security system, however, had other ideas.


The touchpad let out an angry buzz, and a fiery red cross appeared on screen. 


Dan frowned. He wiped his hands on his pants and placed his finger on the glass a second time.  


The touchpad buzzed again. A second cross appeared.


Dan inhaled sharply and every muscle in Jane's body tensed. She braced herself for a blast of profanity, but before a single unsavoury syllable could leave Dan's lips, a panel in the wall slid open and a drone flew out.


It glided over to the touchpad and sprayed a fine mist of what smelt like Windex onto its surface. Then the base of its body turned from shiny chrome to matte black and it began to rotate.


The couple watched in stunned silence as the disc lowered itself gently onto the pad and polished the glass to a showroom shine. Finishing its task, it returned to its cubbyhole, and the panel in the wall slid shut behind it.


Dan was tickled but Jane was aghast.


“They’re in the walls?" she asked.


"They're everywhere," Dan shrugged, "Walls, ceiling, floors, holes in the ground. But don't worry about it," he said, noting the worry on his wife's face, "They're programmed to help. And anyway, if one of them did try anything, one swipe of a tennis racket and THWOCK! - problem solved."


Dan mimed backhanding an invisible drone across the lawn.


Jane smiled, thinly.


"Alright?"


She nodded.


"You don't seem alright," he said flatly.


Jane smiled wider.


Dan turned back to the touchpad, “Alright,” he said rubbing his hands together in anticipation, “Let's do this. Third time's a charm," he muttered.


Unfortunately, it wasn’t. And nor was the fourth or fifth time.


When the touchpad had no more red crosses to display, it utilised its built-in speaker to announce in a calm but firm AI voice:


“ACCESS DENIED. THIS RESIDENCE IS PROTECTED BY SENTINEL SECURITY. PLEASE LEAVE THE PREMISIS.”


Dan exploded. He kicked the front door and leaving a black smear on the glossy paintwork then began pacing up and down the porch. Spittle and curse words flew from his lips. He rattled windows, prying his fingers into the frames in an attempt to jimmy one open. And when these attempts failed, he stomped down the front steps and began hunting for a less traditional way into their new home.


Jane sighed. She knew it was best to leave him be when he got like this. He'd simmer down soon enough. He just needed to blow off some steam. So she dropped down onto the front steps and waited for his ire to cool.


As she sat on the steps, Jane began to notice that her new house was humming. Cocking her head to the side, she listened, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound. Then she cast her eyes upward.


Above her, in the eaves of the roof, were a dozen garden drones. They were huddled together like bats and emitting an electronic hum. Shock jolted her to her feet, but before Jane could step down from the porch a series of blinding lights, like the flash of papparazzi flash bulbs, blinded her. She snapped her eyes shut and and when she opened them again, after blinking away the spots in her vision, she looked back towards the eaves.


The cluster of drones had doubled in size.


Jane heard Dan calling her name, but he was cut off by a second, more pointed announcement from the AI voice -


“YOU ARE NOW TRESSPASSING. SENTINEL SECURITY

AGENTS HAVE BEEN NOTIFIED. PLEASE LEAVE THE PREMISES.”


She heard her husband reply in a rage, "This is OUR BLOODY HOUSE, you robotic prick!"


Then he returned to the front of the house, eyed Jane and gave a quick nod, "Let's go."


Relieved, Jane launched herself from the stairs and dashed towards her husband. “It’s okay, Bub,” she said, taking his hand, “We don’t need to get in today. I’ll give the builders a call and let them know what happened. I'm sure it'll be sorted in a day or two."


Dan tensed, “Nah, stuff that,” he said, "I've found a way in. One of the tradies left a window open. I'll give you a boost. You can climb in and unlock the door."


Jane stared at her husband in disbelief.


“B-but the voice," she stammered, "security is on the way!” 


"So?" Dan bristled, "what are they gonna do? Arrest us for breaking into our own house? We paid through the nose for this place, Jane. And we're getting in. Today."


Dan stalked off towards a wooden access gate at the side of the property. And Jane, dutifully followed.


The gate led to a sprawling backyard complete with pool, barbecue, pizza oven and, as Dan had opted for the Premium Package, dozens upon dozens of garden drones. Drones that had been programmed to help. Drones that had also been programmed to work together to repel intruders, subdue trespassers and neutralise threats to their assigned home.


This unique, highly advanced, and frequently lethal security feature was available only to Pleasant Valley Premium customers.


It was called: Sentinel.


October 19, 2024 09:56

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2 comments

Heidi Fedore
13:45 Oct 26, 2024

This is so dystopian and toys with our fears about technology turning on us. The turning point for me was the drone that tore the leaf to pieces. Subtly violent and effective at leaving this reader uneasy for the rest of the story.

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Sarah Jorgensen
05:57 Oct 27, 2024

Thank you for your comment. I really appreciate your feedback on my story.

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