Steve stares at his phone, his thumb tapping the screen like a woodpecker. The living room is pitch black. Outside the window, the Liverpool summer sun blazes brightly at 4:30 PM. Thick, blackout blinds seal the room shut.
"Steve, I can’t see my tea," Debbie says. She sits on the sofa, holding a mug in mid-air. "Why are the lights off again?"
"I don't know, love," Steve mutters. He swipes through his smart-home application. "The system says every bulb is active. It makes no sense."
Derek walks into the kitchen, his phone flashlight guiding his steps. He chuckles, the sound echoing through the dark house. "Maybe the house is haunted, mate. A tech-savvy poltergeist."
"Not helping, Derek," Steve sighs. He stands up, his knees popping. "James, can you go check the smart hub in the hallway?"
James yells from the corridor, "The hub is flashing blue, Dad! Is it supposed to do that?"
"No, it's supposed to be solid green," Steve shouts back. He walks over to the main light switch. He flips it up and down. Nothing happens. "Everything is locked out. It’s completely unresponsive."
Lucy walks down the stairs, staring at her tablet. "The Wi-Fi is down too. I’m losing my connection. This is a disaster."
"Everyone calm down," Steve says, though his voice rises in pitch. He wipes sweat from his forehead. The summer heat is rising inside. "It is just a temporary glitch. I will do a hard reset."
Fiona enters from the back garden, squinting as she steps into the darkness. "Why are the blinds down? It is beautiful outside. Open them up."
"I can't," Steve explains, his voice tight. "The smart blinds are tied to the lighting scene. If the scene is broken, the blinds stay shut."
Rick, Steve's tech-obsessed neighbour, walks through the unlocked back door. He holds a toolbox. "I hear there is a crisis. Did the mainframe crash, Steve?"
"Don't start, Rick," Debbie warns, finally putting her tea down on the coffee table by feel. "Steve has been bragging about this automated house for six months. Now we are trapped in a cave."
Rick inspects the wall panel. He presses a few buttons. "Aha. Look at the timestamp on the system logs, Steve."
Steve leans over Rick's shoulder. His eyes widen. "Wait. Why does it say December 14th?"
"Your hub just restored an old cloud backup from last winter," Rick laughs, slapping his knee. "It thinks it is the middle of December."
"So?" Derek asks from the kitchen. "Why does that turn the lights off?"
"Because of my peak-saver routine," Steve whispers, realization hitting him like a wave. "Last winter, the energy company charges extra between 4:30 PM and 5:30 PM. I set a strict automation rule to save money."
"What rule?" Debbie asks, her voice dropping.
"To save electricity, the system automatically shuts off the Christmas tree lights during peak hours," Steve confesses.
The room goes dead silent for a moment. Then, James bursts out laughing from the hallway. Lucy joins in, her giggles filling the dark room.
"You mean to tell us," Debbie says slowly, "that we are sitting in pitch-black darkness, sweating in the middle of a Liverpool summer, because your computer thinks it is saving pennies on Christmas tree lights?"
"Yes," Steve mumbles, his face burning red in the dark.
Rick taps a final command into the panel. "There. Overriding the winter backup now."
With a loud click, the blinds slide open. The brilliant evening sun floods the living room. The lamps instantly flicker back to life. Everyone blinks rapidly, shielding their eyes from the sudden brightness. Steve stands in the centre of the room, looking thoroughly defeated as his family enjoys the sunlight.
Moral: Relying too much on technology to manage your life can make you blind to the simple reality right in front of your eyes.
