Three Knocks After the Update

The night the sirens went silent, the city blamed a power failure. Phones lost signal.

Satellites dropped offline. Even the stars looked wrong—too still, like a paused screen.

Then came the knocking. Soft. Patient. Always three taps. Emma checked her

doorbell camera. The porch was empty. The knocking grew louder. Her dog hid,

shaking. On the camera feed, nothing moved—yet the audio waveform spiked with a sound

like static breathing. Her phone vibrated. One message cut through the blackout: DO NOT OPEN YOUR

DOOR. THEY CAN’T BE SEEN. THEY LEARN BY LISTENING. THEY COPY. The knocking stopped.

Emma whispered, “Okay,” without meaning to. Another message arrived instantly.