THE ZOM ZOM CHRONICLES chapter 8 My Smart Home Wants Us Dead (Alexa, Stop Trying to Murder Me)

Here is Chapter 8, the survival recipe, and Brenda's fortification plan.

THE ZOM ZOM CHRONICLES

Post Title: My Smart Home Wants Us Dead (Alexa, Stop Trying to Murder Me)

Date: Tuesday Night. Late.

Mood: Betrayed by technology.

Current Status: Fortified in Apartment 3B. Eating cheese in the dark.

We slammed the heavy oak door of The Regal Arms behind us.

Outside, the leaf blower revved, followed by a wet, crunchy sound that I really don't want to think about. Mrs. Gable was a stickler for rules; I guess she decided the undead counted as "loitering."

We scrambled up the three flights of stairs. My lungs were burning. Dave was wheezing. Mister Whiskers, jostled in his carrier, was swearing in cat.

We reached door 3B. My sanctuary. I fumbled with my keys, hands shaking.

"Faster," Brenda hissed, watching the stairwell below us. "Inefficiency kills."

I unlocked it. We tumbled inside. I slammed the deadbolt home. We were safe. We were inside. It smelled like my vanilla bean candles and safety.

Then, the lights flickered on automatically. A soothing, synthetic female voice filled the apartment.

“Welcome home, [Name Redacted]. It is 11:47 PM. Your heart rate is elevated. Would you like me to play your ‘Chill Vibes’ playlist?”

The Rise of "Homestead"

I forgot. I have a fully integrated smart home system I call "Homestead." It controls the lights, the music, the thermostat, and the robotic vacuum.

"No!" I whispered frantically at the glowing blue cylinder on my coffee table. "Homestead, quiet mode! Silent!"

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,” Homestead chirped pleasantly. “I detect multiple occupants. Is this a social gathering? Initiating ‘Party Protocol.’”

Before I could stop it, the lights turned purple. And then, at max volume, Dua Lipa started blasting from the surround-sound speakers.

DON'T SHOW UP, DON'T COME OUT...

"Turn it off!" Dave shrieked, clapping his hands over his ears. "You're ringing the dinner bell!"

Outside the window, down on the street, heads snapped up toward my apartment. Zom Zoms stopped shuffling and started staring at my purple windows.

"Homestead! STOP MUSIC!" I yelled over the bass.

“I am unable to comply. The ‘Party Protocol’ is locked for 15 minutes to ensure maximum vibe check.”

Brenda didn't hesitate. She didn't argue with the machine. She walked calmly over to the coffee table, raised her heavy mechanical keyboard above her head like a executioner's axe, and brought it down on the glowing blue cylinder.

CRUNCH-FIZZZZZ-POP.

Dua Lipa cut out mid-lyric. The lights went dead. We were plunged into silence and total darkness.

"Problem solved," Brenda said into the void. "That hardware was redundant anyway. Now, where is the cheese?"

RECIPE CARD: THE GOUDA SURVIVAL PLATTER

We ate on the floor by the light of a single, non-smart flashlight. It was the best meal of my life.

COURSE: Dinner / Emotional Support

PREP TIME: 3 minutes (mostly finding the crackers in the dark)

SERVES: 3 Humans, 1 Disdainful Cat

INGREDIENTS:

• 1 Wheel of Aged Gouda (Saved from the fridge before the power inevitably dies).

• 1/2 Box of "Everything" Crackers (Slightly stale, best before 2023).

• A jar of artisan fig spread (Because I was fancy once).

• Tap water (Drink it while it still works).

INSTRUCTIONS:

1. Use a pocket knife (Dave had one!) to hack off large, ungraceful chunks of Gouda. Do not worry about presentation. The Zom Zoms don't care about plating.

2. Slather stale cracker with fig spread.

3. Top with a massive chunk of cheese.

4. Eat quickly in the dark while listening to the sirens outside.

5. Chef’s Note: Give a small piece to Mister Whiskers first to ensure he doesn’t eat you in your sleep.

DIAGRAM: BRENDA'S APARTMENT DEFENSE STRATEGY

While Dave and I ate cheese, Brenda paced the apartment, assessing "structural vulnerabilities." She made me draw this plan on the back of a utility bill.

We are no longer in a home. We are in a Forward Operating Base.

          [APARTMENT 3B - FORTIFICATION PLAN "OPERATION TURTLE"]
                     (Drafted by Brenda. Executed by Us.)

      [ WINDOWS (STREET VIEW) ] -> **(PRIMARY THREAT VECTOR)**
      |=======================|
      |  [X]    [X]    [X]    |  <- [X] = Pushed bookcases/sofa against glass.
      |_______________________|     Brenda calls this the "Visual Denial Zone."

      |                       |
      |      LIVING AREA      |  <- "The Pit." Where we sleep in shifts.
      |      (Gouda Zone)     |
      |_______________________|
      |                       |
[KITCHEN]                     [BATHROOM]
(Water  |                     (Fill Tub NOW
Ration  |                     before water
Station)|                     shuts off!)
      |_______________________|

      |      HALLWAY          | <- "The Chokepoint."
      |                       |
      |  [ROAMING SENTRY]     | <- (Mister Whiskers watches this area)
      |_______________________|

             [FRONT DOOR (THE ALAMO)]
             |===============|
             |  [DEADBOLT]   |
             |  [CHAIN]      |
             |  [CHAIRS]     | <- Piled up furniture.
             |  [DAVE]       | <- Dave sleeps here first shift with Nerf gun.
             |===============|

Status Update: It’s 3:00 AM. The adrenaline has worn off. I’m exhausted. Dave is snoring lightly by the door. Brenda is sitting in an armchair by the window, staring through a crack in the barricade, clutching her keyboard.

We are safe for tonight. But tomorrow, we need supplies. And I think... I think I heard the building's fire alarm chirp. Low battery? Or something else?