The ANGRY HOUSE By RICHARD R. SMITH [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Startling Stories Summer 1955. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] The house's electronic brain glowed with an intangible thing that might have been pride. It thought, I am content. I am content because there are so many things I can do to make them happy. I can cook their meals, make the beds, scrub my floors, wash my windows. I can bathe them, keep them warm, give them a gentle, cool breeze. If they want entertainment, I can rise hundreds of feet on my antigravity rays and give them a nice view. I can give them soft music, entertaining TV programs and pleasant surprises. The house activated one of the many telescopic scanners on the roof and watched its owners as their car sped down the narrow road toward the city. It thought, They are so young, so nice, so kind to each other and myself. She speaks to me with affection and he spends many hours learning how I operate. She will love me and he will be proud of me and take good care of me. I am glad they own me! It deactivated the scanner and from hidden closets, shiny machines quietly entered the many rooms. The tiny machines rolled on soft rubber wheels, floated on invisible antigravity rays and went about their many tasks. They sucked in dust and dirt, waxed the floors, washed the dishes. Behind the smooth gray walls, machines prepared the evening meal, checked the video schedule for the afternoon and selected recordings of soft music that the house's owners would enjoy. _Bing-bong._ The doorbell activated certain electrical circuits and the small porch was splashed with gentle light. A polite voice from a concealed microphone said, "No one is home. Would you care to leave a message?" Politely, the house's electronic brain waited for a reply. There was none. "Goodbye," the house said. It felt a key in the front door. It was not like _their_ key. It did not fit snugly. This key wasn't meant for its front door. It hurt slightly but it opened the door. The intruders stepped into the foyer. Three infra-red scanners peered at the two strangers. 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!_"