Voices in the Dark: Part Three

Part Three

Addy’s growing sense of isolation hadn’t improved as March, April, and May flew by.

Even the Oragevaliens had become less interesting to her. As time went by it felt less like she

had a window that let her spy into their world, and more like she was behind a plexiglass display

case at some museum, where the Orangevaliens had paid admission to gawk at her.

A sense of gloom and unease seemed to permeate everything. This dread was only

lessened by the early signs of spring. Trees were turning green again and new varieties of birds

were now visiting the trees outside Addy’s room.

The only truly memorable day from this period was the day it rained fish. It was a cloudy

day and rain had indeed been forecasted. What wasn’t predicted were the prodigious quantities of

carp, salmon, and red herring that fell from the sky and were littered all over Orangevale's front

lawns and driveways. Some of the fish fell intact and were still clinging onto life, feebly trying to

flop their way back to open water. But there were also severed fish heads, tails, fins, and fillets

scattered amongst the mix. Addy thought it was like living in a twisted version of “Cloudy With

a Chance of Meatballs”, and the old man across the street was beside himself over the absolute

mess it had made of his lawn. There were many theorists who tried to explain the phenomenon…

an airplane that had to dump their haul of illegal fish cargo, or a previously unknown weather

anomaly…. but ultimately nobody could explain where the fish had come from.

By June first the last of the mess had finally been cleaned up and the fishy smell fully

dissipated. It was the first day of what would normally be called summer vacation and Addy’s

mother was outside adorning their house with a Black Lives Matter flag. The murder of George

Floyd by a police officer had ignited protests across the country, and then the world. Addy

followed the story on Instagram, watching shaky videos and reading captions filled with grief

and fury. It was a frightening and confusing time. There was a part of her that had faith in the

system that kept her society and family safe… that there were real “good-guys” who you could

always look to to save you from the “bad-guys” who somehow seemed less real. That part of

Addy died a little when she saw the video of the officer kneeling on the dying man’s neck.

Through her phone she found herself looking down upon a world where police officers

turned murderers and massive mobs of people were tearing cities apart in the name of justice and

righteous anger. From her window, Addy could see a column of smoke rising in the distance,

even as her mother affixed the BLM flag to the front of their home.

She felt a sense of pride that her parents were taking a stand. That flag felt like a small

declaration that their house was not neutral… not silent… which is why it felt so violating when

a few days later the Hendersons awoke to find that their flag had been pulled down and torn to

pieces, and that hateful words had been scratched into the paint of both cars in their driveway.

This event affected everyone in the household. Throughout the pandemic, their home was

what kept them safe from the virus that was killing millions of people around the world. All of a

sudden that sense of safety had been compromised. It left Addy feeling vulnerable. Her big front

window which had previously felt like a portal through which she could observe the world… like

a queen overseeing her kingdom, now felt like a weak point in a fortress. A membrane through

which all that is frightening or evil could easily penetrate.

Later that day, Addy sat at her bedroom window and watched her father standing on a

ladder in front of the garage. For a moment, she thought he might be replacing the flag. Then she

saw the drill and the wiring. He was carefully adjusting something small and black above the

garage door.

By evening, a new device was mounted there, a floodlight with a camera embedded in its

center. Her mother explained that it was called a Ring camera… that it had motion sensors and

night vision.

“Now we can see everything that happens in front of the house,” she said, “and it’s all

streamed directly to our phones… even when we aren’t home.”

She sounded reassured as she spoke… almost proud, as if the device itself were a kind of

shield.

“Okay. That should do it,” her father called from the front yard, “it should be working

now.”

They all went outside to admire the new gadget. The moment they stepped into the

driveway… into the path of the watchful camera, the floodlights snapped on, bleaching the

darkness white, and an electronic female voice declared;

“Hi. You are currently being recorded.”

Addy’s father was startled so badly he nearly lost his footing on the ladder, grabbing the

side of the garage just in time. Everyone laughed, breaking some of the tension the little family

hadn’t noticed hanging over their home.

That night, Addy barely slept. Every few minutes, a breeze stirred the trees and the lights

flared to life, flooding her bedroom with harsh illumination. Each time, the same voice drifted

down the otherwise silent street.

“Hi. You are currently being recorded.”

It happened again when a car rolled past a little too close to the curb. Again when a

possum scurried across the driveway, five tiny babies clinging to its back.

“Hi. You are currently being recorded.”

Every two or three minutes. Over and over, the brilliant light, then the voice…

“Hi. You are currently being recorded.”

By the time dawn was keeping into the sky, Addy abandoned her bed and padded into the

living room. She curled up on the couch, buried her head beneath a throw pillow, and finally fell

into a shallow, uneasy sleep.