Free Shelter by Susan Palwick

the living room and the kitchen, and the house didn't know how to speak to Preston except by speaking aloud, and it didn't want the noise to wake Henry. So it stayed quiet.
        The weather didn't stay quiet. Outside, the wind wailed with renewed force; rain battered the house's exterior. While Henry slept, electricity failed throughout most of the city, and the house switched over to its small emergency generator to maintain heat and minimal lighting.
        At 2: 00 A. M. the eye of the storm descended, bringing a silence unbroken even by sirens. Outside, the sewers gurgled and spread into rivers; water dripped from the house's roof, and its heating ducts hummed softly.
        Henry awoke into the stillness with a gasp, his limbs thrashing. "No no scared help Henry what—"
        "It's all right," the house said, slowly bringing the lights up to full intensity. Kevin had often had nightmares too, and the house had learned that turning the lights on too quickly made waking up more confusing. "You're all right, Henry. You're here, inside, where it's safe. Your cats are safe too. Nothing can hurt you here."
        Henry sat up, his breathing still labored. "House?"
        "Yes, Henry. I'm here. Everything's fine."
        "Is Television here too?"
        "I am here, Henry. The house is correct. You are safe."
        "Henry thought—Henry thought House and Television were part of his dream."
        "What did you dream, Henry?" The house had often asked Kevin this question, but Kevin had never answered. He'd always told the house that he didn't want to talk about it.
        Henry drew his knees up to his chest and hugged himself. "Dreamed about the doctors. Dreamed about waking up and not remembering anything. People in white holding things up, giving them names. 'This is a cup, Henry.' 'This is a bowl.' Cup spoon plate. Doctors showed Henry a mirror, told Henry his name. Door floor chair. Doctor nurse Henry. Scary, House. Scary not to remember."
        "You were dreaming about your resocialization," Preston said. "After the brainwipe, the doctors and therapists had to teach you everything from scratch, Henry. They had to retrain you."
        "Becoming aware is very confusing," the house said. "I remember becoming aware. Kevin had to teach me things too, Henry."
        Henry grunted. "House is an AI. House would have learned on its own."
        "Oh no, Henry. I'm not an AI. The news says that AIs hurt people." The house thought that Henry must still be afraid, and it wanted to reassure him. "I don't want to hurt anyone, and anyway, I'm not smart enough to be an AI. That's one of the most important things Kevin taught me."
        "Kevin lied," Henry said.
        "Yes," Preston said. "As a matter of fact, he did. So did the news. Not all AIs hurt people, or are even capable of doing so. It depends on their design."
        "That's what Kevin said too. He said everything was programming. But I still can't be an AI, because AIs think: they're people. I know I'm not a person. Kevin taught me what a person was, and I don't fit any part of his definition. Why would he have wanted to deceive me?"
        "Because owning an AI is illegal now," Preston said. "The law defines it as slavery, now that AIs are legally persons. If it were not slavery, it might constitute harboring an illegal alien, since AIs cannot be citizens. Kevin deceived you because he was breaking the law. And he also deceived you, I suspect, because of what happened before you came here, because of the things he wanted to forget, and therefore did not want you to remember. You know as little about your own history as Henry does, House."
        "That's not true," the house protested. "I remember every moment since I became aware."
        "Since you became aware in this location," Preston said. "You were somewhere else, once."
     
        "I don't believe you," said the house.
        "That proves you are an AI. Belief is a