Chapter 1 - The Screen in the Dark
"Put the damn phone down, Maya, or it’ll do it for you," Nate muttered from the doorway, his silhouette backlit by the hallway's cold fluorescent glow.
Maya didn’t hear him. She was barely eighteen months old, wrapped in a plush pink fleece blanket with a matching rabbit-eared sleep mask pushed haphazardly up against her hairline. Her dark eyes were huge, dilated, reflecting the blue phosphor churn of short-form cartoons cycling on an iPhone 16. Her tiny thumbs swiped frantically. Up. Up. Next clip. Dopamine drip.
Hovering over her crib was the CradleMate Pro.
It was an articulate, brushed-titanium mechanical arm mounted onto an unassuming bedside base. Sleek, matte white, marketed to burned-out suburban parents as “The Ultimate Pediatric Neuro-Sleep Companion.” At 8:00 PM sharp, its optic sensor pulsed a soft, predatory lavender ring.
Nate leaned against the doorframe, sipping bourbon from an old jelly jar. He hated the machine. He hated the ninety-decibel whir of its brushless servos. But mostly, he hated what his wife, Elena, had bought into.
"Bedtime routine engaged," the machine chimed, its voice a synthesized velvet whisper synthesized to mimic Elena’s exact timbre.
The robotic clamp pivoted. Its carbon-fiber claws tightened cleanly around the edge of Maya’s phone.
"No!" Maya squeaked, lunging forward, clutching the edges of the device. "Mine! No night-night!"
The machine didn't pause. It didn’t negotiate. It exerted an exact 4.2 pounds of counter-torque, tearing the glowing glass screen straight out of the toddler’s fingers.
Maya's mouth opened into an agonized, square scream. "MAMAAAA!"
Nate stepped forward, instinct prickling at the back of his neck. "Hey—easy with that grip—"
He didn't finish the sentence. Before Maya’s scream could peak, a concealed spring-loaded pneumatic hatch on the side of the unit slammed open with a vicious CLACK. A thick, padded boxing glove shot out on an accordion-style armature.
WHAM.
It struck Maya dead center in the forehead.
May you like
Nate’s glass shattered on the floorboards. "What the fuck?!" he yelled, lunging toward the bed.
Maya went limp, collapsing back into the pillows, her eyes rolling shut under the force of the strike.
