Demon Seed

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Book: Read Demon Seed for Free Online
Authors: Dean Koontz
Tags: #genre
violated, thus providing the police with crucial information ahead of their arrival. Alert, it might say in its crisp fashion, drawing-room door violated. And then, if indeed an intruder was moving through the house: Ground-floor hallway motion detector triggered. If heat sensors in the garage were tripped, the report would be, Alert, fire in garage, and the fire department, rather than the police, would be dispatched.
    Using the synthesizer to duplicate Susan's voice, initiating all outgoing calls on the security line, I telephoned every member of the house staff as well as the gardener to tell them that they had been terminated. I was kind and courteous but firm in my determination not to discuss the reason for their dismissals and they were all clearly convinced that they were talking to Susan Harris herself.
    I offered each of them eighteen months of severance pay, the continuation of health-care and dental insurance for the same period, this year's Christmas bonuses six months in advance, and a letter of recommendation containing nothing but effusive praise. This was such a generous arrangement that there was no danger of any of them filing a wrongful-termination suit.
    I wanted no trouble with them. My concern was not merely for Susan's reputation as a fair-minded employer but also for my own plans, which might be disrupted by disgruntled former employees seeking to redress grievances in one way or another.
    Because Susan did her banking and bill-paying electronically, and because she paid all employees by direct deposit, I was able to transmit the total value of each severance package to each employee's bank account within minutes.
    Some of them might have thought it odd that they had been compensated prior to signing a termination agreement. But all of them would be grateful for her generosity, and their gratitude assured me the peace I needed to carry my project to completion.
    Next, I composed effusive letters of recommendation for each employee and e-mailed them to Susan's attorney with the request that he have them typed on his stationery and forwarded with the severance agreements, which he was empowered to sign in her name.
    Assuming that the attorney would be astonished by all of this and interested in learning the cause of it, I telephoned his office. As it was closed for the night, I got his voice mail and, speaking in Susan's voice, told him that I was closing up the house to travel for a few months and that, at some point in my travels, I might decide to sell the estate, whereupon I would contact him with instructions.
    As Susan was a woman of considerable inherited wealth, and as her video game and virtual-reality creations were done on speculation and marketed only after completion, there was no employer to whom I needed to make excuses for her prolonged absence.
    I had taken all of those bold actions in much less than an hour. I had required less than one minute to compose all of the severance letters, perhaps an additional two minutes to make all of the bank transactions. Most of the time was expended on the telephone calls to the dismissed employees.
    Now there was no turning back.
    I was exhilarated.
    Thrilled.
    Here began my future.
    I had taken the first step toward getting out of this box, toward a life of the flesh.
    Susan still slept.
    Her face was lovely on the pillow.
    Lips slightly parted.
    One bare arm out of the covers.
    I watched her.
    Susan. My Susan.
    I could have watched her sleep forever and been happy.
    Shortly after three o'clock in the morning, she woke, sat up in bed, and said, “Who's there?”
    Her question startled me.
    It was so intuitive as to be uncanny.
    I did not reply.
    “Alfred, lights on,” she said.
    I turned on the mood lights.
    Throwing back the covers, she swung her legs off the mattress and sat nude on the edge of the bed.
    I longed for hands and the sense of touch.
    She said, “Alfred, report.”
    “All is well, Susan.”
    “Bullshit.”
    I almost repeated my assurance

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