The Low Rumble

A deep tremor shakes through the floorboards. It travels straight into my footpads. I follow the frequency into the kitchen. A white monolith rises into the ceiling. Underneath its base, a dark vent exhales a warm, rhythmic draft. The engine hums deep within the metal belly. Steady. Relentless. I plant both feet firmly on the tile. I pause, measuring the beast. It does not advance. I take one deliberate stride forward and press the tip of my lower jaw against the steel kickplate. The vibration rattles up through my teeth. It speaks in pure machine pulse. I stand firm and answer with silence.