One was a woman. Long, blond hair. Gray eyes. Small pointed nose. Blue dress and blue, high-heel shoes. The house evaluated her, discarded the word "beautiful" and decided on the words "curvaceous" and "sexy." Yes, it would use those words to describe her to its owners when they returned. It wondered briefly if they were relatives of its masters.

The man was short, stocky. Dark hair, brown eyes. The house searched its files but could not find any complimentary adjectives. It spoke. "No one is home. Would you care to leave a message?" It wished it could inquire as to what they wanted, but there were no circuits for that.

"Shut up," the man said.

"Beg pardon?"

"Shut up! Keep quiet!"

"Yes, sir," the house responded. It was constructed to obey orders, but that order was an unfamiliar one which it didn't like.

"Tell it to turn on the lights," the woman said nervously.

"Turn the lights on."

The house waited several seconds. It was obliged to obey orders of guests. But were these people guests? It searched memory circuits. Guests were people who came to visit while owners were home. Guests were friendly, talkative. The house decided this man and woman did not fit in that category of identification.

Hurriedly, it searched its myriad electrical networks and found the only logical description of the intruders—burglars.

Behind the walls, relays clicked and infinitesimal electrical charges darted across a spidery web of silver wires only to find themselves in the dead-ends of missing connections.

The anti-burglar installations are missing! the house thought frantically. If the protective devices had been present, it would have been able to spray the intruders with tear gas, paralyze them with electrical charges, thrust them from the house with antigravity rays, or kill them by any one of a dozen methods. Without the anti-burglar mechanisms, it was defenseless. What can I do? the house wondered. What can I do!

Reluctantly, the house turned the lights on.

"You sure the 

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