Three days in this penthouse and I still could not turn on the lights. It was embarrassing. Deeply, profoundly embarrassing. I was a billionaire who owned an island and had a private chef on retainer, yet I could not operate my own light switches. Except there were no switches because the penthouse was a smart home controlled by voice commands. The trigger word was "Chen Home." Simple enough. Two syllables. Easy to remember. Except the system had been calibrated to recognize the old Vivian's voice, and apparently my voice was not good enough.
I stood in the middle of the living room as the sun set behind the city skyline. The light faded until I was standing in complete darkness. The city glittered outside the windows, but inside there was only shadow.
"Chen Home," I said clearly. "Lights on."
Nothing.
"Chen Home. Lights. On. Please."
Nothing. The smart home system continued its silent rebellion.
I took a deep breath. Maybe my pronunciation was wrong. "Chen Hom." Nothing. "Chen Ham." Nothing. "Chen Hooooome." Nothing.
I was losing my mind in the dark, talking to an invisible butler who refused to acknowledge my existence.
"CHICKEN HOME."
The words exploded out of me before I could stop them. Loud and desperate and completely ridiculous. I did not know where they came from. If "Chen Home" was not working, maybe "Chicken Home" would.
The lights stayed off. I stood in the darkness, defeated, a billionaire wrapped in unicorn pajamas who had just yelled "Chicken Home" at her ceiling like a lunatic.
Then I heard it. A soft footstep. Then another. Lucas.
He appeared in the doorway, silhouetted against the faint city glow. His posture was perfect. His suit was impeccable. His ears were pink.
"Ms. Chen," he said carefully. "Is everything alright?"
"Everything is fine. I was just testing something."
"In the dark."
"Yes."
"At ten o'clock at night."
"Yes."
"Yelling 'Chicken Home.'"
I closed my eyes. "How long were you listening?"
A pause. "Long enough. I heard 'Chen Hom' and 'Chen Ham' and several creative variations. I also heard the final attempt involving poultry."
"You heard me say 'Chicken Home.'"
"I did. Three times. At increasing volume."
I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. "The lights will not turn on. I have been trying for twenty minutes. Nothing in this penthouse listens to me."
Lucas was quiet for a moment. Then he spoke, his voice soft and clear. "Chen Home. Lights on."
The penthouse flooded with warm golden light. The living room appeared around me in all its minimalist glory.
To him. The house listened to him.
I stared at Lucas. He was standing exactly where he had been, hands clasped behind his back, expression neutral. His ears were pink, but his face revealed nothing.
"Chen Home," he said again. "Lights to fifty percent."
The lights dimmed obediently. Soft and warm and perfect.
"Chen Home. Lights off." Darkness. "Chen Home. Lights on." Light.
"The system responds to voice recognition," he explained. "It has had six years to learn mine. It will learn yours as well, but it needs time."
"So my own house does not recognize me."
"It will. It simply needs to become familiar with your current vocal patterns."
"Because I am not the same person I was before the fall."
His ears went from pink to crimson. "The system can be recalibrated. I can arrange for a technician."
"You can control everything in this penthouse, and I cannot even get it to acknowledge my existence."
His ears were burgundy now. "I would not phrase it that way."
"How would you phrase it?"
"The system has determined that I am a trusted administrator based on six years of consistent interaction."
"So my house thinks you are the boss."
"I would not phrase it that way either."
I laughed. The absurdity crashed over me all at once. I was a billionaire who could not turn on her own lights. I had been screaming "Chicken Home" at my ceiling while my assistant listened. My own smart home had decided Lucas was more trustworthy than me. And honestly, it was not wrong.
"I hate this house," I said, still laughing.
Lucas's mouth twitched. "It is a very nice house. The architecture is award-winning."
"It is a traitor that has abandoned me for my assistant."
"I am sure it would respond to you if we recalibrated the voice recognition."
"Do not bother. I will accept my fate. Living in darkness, dependent on you to turn on the lights like some kind of Victorian ghost."
"That is a very vivid image."
"I have had a lot of time to think in the dark. Before I started yelling about chickens."
His other ear twitched. Both ears were pink now. "Would you like me to leave the lights on? Or would you prefer darkness for your Victorian ghost activities?"
I looked at him. Standing there in his perfect suit with his perfect posture and his perfectly pink ears. He had heard me scream about poultry and had not laughed. He had simply waited until I was ready and then turned on the lights like it was nothing.
"Leave them on," I said. "I have had enough darkness for one night. And Lucas?"
"Yes, Ms. Chen?"
"Thank you. For the lights. And for not laughing at me when I yelled 'Chicken Home.'"
His ears went from pink to red. "You are welcome, Ms. Chen. I would not have laughed. It was a logical progression from the original command, given the phonetic similarity."
"You are saying 'Chicken Home' was logical."
"I am saying I understand how you arrived there."
I smiled. That was probably the closest Lucas Grey would ever come to telling me that my absurd poultry outburst made sense to him. And somehow, that was more comforting than if he had simply laughed.
"Goodnight, Lucas."
"Goodnight, Ms. Chen. Chen Home, lights to thirty percent, warm tone."
The lights obeyed him instantly, softening to a gentle golden glow. He turned and walked toward his study, his back straight and his steps measured and his ears still very pink.
I stood alone in my living room, wrapped in unicorn pajamas and surrounded by obedient lights that only listened to my assistant. Tomorrow I would ask Lucas to recalibrate the system. I would learn to control my own house. I would stop yelling about poultry at the ceiling.
But tonight, I would just be grateful that someone else could turn on the lights. Even if that someone had heard me say "Chicken Home" three times at increasing volume. Especially because of that.