It cut into the phone circuits and dialed the number of its factory.
The phone's visiscreen flared with light and a woman's face appeared
smiling.
"Johnson Construction Company."
The house projected its voice toward the mouthpiece. "Please, let me
speak to--"
The man removed a weapon from his tunic. The phone and visiscreen
vanished, leaving only small metal fragments that fell to the carpet.
"It was using the phone!" the woman exclaimed shrilly, trembling in the
darkness.
"Don't worry," the man said. "They didn't have time to trace the call.
The room was dark; they couldn't see who was calling."
After a brief silence, the man warned, "House! See this thing in my
hand? You behave yourself or I'll disintegrate your...." He let the
sentence dangle, unable to think of what he would disintegrate.
"Yes, sir," the house replied. It was an automatic response to any
statement.
"Now, turn the lights on or I'll use this gun to make one big mess of
your floors and walls. Your owners wouldn't like that, would they?"
"No, sir."
It turned the lights on. If it didn't, they would use their
flashlights, and by turning them on it might prevent some destruction.