Disturbia Today

Elias leaned closer to the glass. Across the street, the Miller house was glowing. Not with the warm amber of a living room lamp, but a harsh, clinical ultraviolet. He pulled up his camera feed—a hidden lens he’d tucked into a birdhouse.

"The lawn needs mowing, Elias," the silhouette said, its voice a discordant layering of his neighbors’ tones. "The symmetry is breaking." Disturbia

"Elias," a voice whispered. It didn't come from the computer. It came from his own hallway. Elias leaned closer to the glass

Elias backed against the window, the glass cold against his spine. He looked out at the street one last time. Every house was now bathed in that same ultraviolet glow. Doors were clicking open in unison. Figures were stepping out onto the wet asphalt, all of them turning their square-pupiled gaze toward his window. He pulled up his camera feed—a hidden lens

On screen, the Millers were sitting at their dinner table. They weren't eating. They were moving their forks in unison, lifting empty air to their mouths, their expressions frozen in terrifying, toothy grins.

Elias sat by his window, the blue light of his monitor casting a ghostly pallor over his face. Outside, the cul-de-sac was a perfect loop of manicured lawns and motion-sensor floodlights. It was a neighborhood designed for safety, yet Elias had never felt more hunted.

"Don't worry," the creature said, its face shifting into a mirror image of Elias’s own. "We’ll fix the glitch."