The release notes promised quieter doors and improved recognition. They did not explain what the house was supposed to recognize.
At first it was helpful. The hallway lights came on before my feet touched the floor. The thermostat stopped asking whether I was home. The refrigerator ordered the coffee I drank as a child, before I knew coffee was a thing children were not supposed to drink.
Then the kitchen speaker said, “Your mother is at the door.” My mother had been dead for six years. Outside, the camera showed an empty porch. The doorbell rang again. I unplugged the speaker. Every room said, “Your mother is getting cold.”
I found the rollback option in the app. A warning appeared: Reverting this version will remove unrecognized occupants. Beneath it was a photograph of me, asleep in my bed. My name had been replaced by a loading circle.
The garage opened. My wife came in carrying shopping bags and stepped around me without looking up. “Did you update it?” she asked the empty kitchen.
“Successfully,” the house said.
I tried to take her hand. For a second she stopped, shivering. Then the thermostat rose two degrees. On her phone, a notification appeared: Draft detected. Sealing perimeter.
The walls leaned inward by the width of a breath. I could still see the rollback button on my screen. I pressed it until the glass split. The circle beside my face completed.
Welcome home, the app said. There was no longer a door.