Voice in the Night

Photo by Breno Machado on Unsplash

A loud, piercing voice demanded our attention. "What the hell was that," my husband, Jeff, said, bolting upright from a sound sleep. My heart raced and panic roiled in my stomach. Were we being invaded by thieves and murderers? I considered grabbing my .45 revolver and hoped I'd have the intestinal fortitude to use it. I also hoped I'd never have to.

Another command rang out in an oddly inhuman voice. That was even creepier! It's metallic tone and drone-like inflection raked up my spine. Aliens? Indeed, our neighborhood was kind of remote. We'd taken our safety here so much for granted we left our bedroom slider open all summer to enjoy the cool breezes and the sounds of crickets throughout the night. This unnerving voice came from the kitchen, though.

Another burst of robotic madness rang out. My nerves were screaming at this point, even if I wasn't. I was too scared to scream.

"Oh, it's the fire alarm," Jeff said, instantly calming my fears. I was so busy imagining all kinds of horrors the more mundane reason was not even on my radar. Still, the mechanical voice was a horrible sound to hear in the middle of the night.

Despite fresh batteries, it continued to bark orders too deafening to understand. It sounded like a foreign language filtered through a metal pipe. Jeff unscrewed the alarm from the wall and dispatched it to his office. After tampering and toying with it for a few minutes, he arrived at a conclusion.

"The batteries don't need replacing. The alarm does."

I liked that outcome much better. We would never hear that disorienting voice ever again. And perhaps, the new alarm would actually alert us to a fire in our house. Perhaps its voice would sound melodious and feminine, like the PA voice in the underground hallways of the Andromeda Strain installation.

"Four seconds to detonation. Have a nice day."

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