Page 26 of The New Couple in 5B

Everyone raises their glasses and repeats in chorus, “Welcome!”

“Thank you so much,” says Chad, speaking for us both, as always. “We’re so happy to be here and thrilled to be surrounded by such warm and welcoming people. We’re honored that you’d gather to welcome us.”

More raised glasses and then Charles and Ella are at our side again, the party continuing, low voices, laughter, clinking glasses.

“So what do you think of the new intercom system?” asks Charles with a smile.

“I hate it,” puts in Ella. “It’s creepy if you ask me.”

I shake my head and glance at Chad. “Intercom?”

“Oh,” says Chad. “I forgot to tell her.”

“It’s best demonstrated,” says Charles, with a wink.

“Hey, Abi,” he says, raising his voice. The other guests turn to look at him, and look around for Abi, who I did not see come in.

“Yes, Mr. Aldridge?”

But the voice is disembodied, as it was in the basement, coming from some unseen source.

“Why don’t you lock the street door and come help us welcome Chad and Rosie?”

Oh. Is he still downstairs? I realize that they’re speaking over the intercom, which I don’t remember ever using as long as we’ve been coming to the apartment.

“That’s very kind, sir. But I’m unable to leave my post at the moment.”

“Nonsense,” says Ella. “Abi, please do. Just for a bit.”

I feel bad for him; probably the last thing he wants to do is spend time with the people he waits on all day. But what’s the deal with the intercom? Is it voice-activated? That’s pretty high-tech for a building that doesn’t have central air.

“Very well,” he says with a good-natured chuckle. “Idohave a package for you. I’ll be up shortly and thank you.”

“Did you know about this?” I ask Chad. “Do we have it, too?”

I can tell by the way he casts his eyes down to the floor that he did know. He clears his throat. “I think they installed ours last week.”

“Isn’t it fantastic?” asks Charles. He goes on. “Oh, don’t worry about the assessment, that was a year ago, before Ivan even got sick. We’ve all paid. And it’s such a convenience. And a comfort to know that Abi is just a shout away.”

Ella meets my frown with her own.

I try to contain my dismay. I am a privacy freak. We don’t have an Alexa, never use Siri. Chad and I might turn on location services for each other. But other than that, we’re not into tethers. No Apple Watch tracking my heart rate, steps, notifying me of every call, email, no Oura to monitor my sleep patterns. No disembodied voice to take my order for toilet paper or the latest bestseller. People love their devices—they telegraph wealth, fitness, virtue, the idea that they are so important and must be connected every moment. But I see them for what they are—the tools of corporations to keep you wanting, buying, unable to be present, shackled to their plans for you and your money. It’s a con, a scam, and the whole world has bought right into it.

“I don’t understand. Can he hear inside the apartment all the time?” I ask.

“Oh, no,” says Charles with a wave. “It only comes on when you say, ‘Hey, Abi.’”

“What if Abi is not there? He does have days off, doesn’t he?”

“Then the other doormen answer.” I remember again that I’ve rarely seen another doorman. That no one has even referred to one by name.

“But no, no. It’s perfectly private,” says Charles easily. “It’s just like the intercom that was there. Only you no longer have to press the button.”

Charles takes my hand. “You’re too young to worry about falling and not being able to call for help. But this gives me so much comfort to know that Ella or I can just call for help if we’re alone, if something terrible happens.”

Well,I think but don’t say,we’ll be disabling that feature.

“I understand,” I say. Always better not to argue about things like this. “It is a great convenience.”

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