HONORABLE MENTION, Summer 2023
The Screw Turn Flash Fiction Competition
BY ANDREW GRAHAM MARTIN
Click, latch. The Monroes were gone. The security system came online. The smart thermostat adjusted incrementally to changes in the house’s being. At 3:15 pm, the robot vacuum undocked from its base and made its dutiful patrol. Once finished, it discharged its own dust trap into the trash. Whir, clunk.
Then, stillness. Silence seemed to have mass. A particle of dust meandered through the afternoon light, catching in a beam from the window before vanishing.
Disrupting this quiet, Cora, the voice of the house’s A.I. smart assistant, spoke. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”
A petal on an artificial plant quivered in a breeze that couldn’t exist. All airflow was militantly controlled in this house. There were no portals, not even a hairline fracture, to any world beyond.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”
The Monroe’s were in Daytona. From the beach, Patrick Monroe, the patriarch, received regular updates as to the status of his home: temperature shifts, the precise moisture in the plant beds outside, notifications of package deliveries. These alerts cascaded down the screen of his unchecked phone, which rested against the shorts in his bag, warmed by the sun. Next to him, his wife, Mary, lying on a beach towel, shifted. He sniffed, glared at her. When she didn’t speak, he rolled his eyes, then resumed reading his book, a history of the Third Reich. [continue reading…]