The Silvergate Initiative by Newton Webb
A Futuristic Psychological Horror Short Story: When Grampy is sent to an elite care home for “citizens of note,” Laurie discovers the residents have a far more sinister role to play.
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The Silvergate Initiative
By Newton Webb
2028, Slough
The KFC bargain bucket sat on the dining table, its cardboard sweating grease. Extra gravy, too. Grampy’s favourite. The gesture was so out of character for her fastidiously healthy mother that it served as the first warning her parents were plotting something terrible.
Grampy was two bites into a chicken thigh when Heidi quietly placed a glossy pamphlet on the table. “Dad, I’ve been thinking.”
He paused mid-chew, his gaze narrowing on her over the bone.
“Since your fall, you’ve struggled. Jay and I think you need more help. The kind we can’t provide.”
“What do you mean?” Laurie shuffled her chair closer to Grampy.
Heidi pushed the pamphlet towards her. Silvergate Healthcare. The photographs showed manicured lawns and residents who looked suspiciously serene. A senior care centre, it proclaimed, for the nation’s educational elite. A sentence was highlighted. ‘As part of our charitable Silvergate Initiative, we are pleased to offer complimentary care and residence to citizens of note.’
“Because of your career, Dad,” Jay said, his voice laced with an obscene eagerness. “Thirty years as a physics professor. They’re offering you complimentary residence.”
“Complimentary?” Laurie picked up the pamphlet. “Nothing is complimentary. How do they make money?”
“Darling, it’s fine.” Heidi’s smile was stretched thin. “It’s a charity. The Silvergate Initiative. It’s good for their brand, being able to boast about the distinguished people they house.”
Grampy grunted and returned his attention to his chicken.
“Their brand?” Laurie scoffed. “Why can’t we look after him here?”
I look after him here, she thought, a hot spike of resentment in her chest. I’m the one who makes sure he takes the pills in his dosette box. I’m the one who helps him from his chair.
Her parents exchanged a look. “If your grampy has another fall,” Heidi said carefully, “he could break more than just his pelvis. It isn’t safe. He needs proper support.”
“I can look after him,” Laurie insisted. “He’ll be all right.”
“No, Laurie.” Her mother’s voice was firm. “You’ve just started college. You need to focus on that. This is the best option for everyone. What do you think, Dad?”
Grampy raised his eyebrows, harrumphing noncommittally. He dipped a chicken thigh in a pot of gravy and said nothing.
“You don’t have to go, Grampy.” She hugged him close.
“Well, you say that.” He wiped chicken grease onto a napkin before rustling her hair. He shot a reproachful look at her parents. “You can always come and visit. I’m always here for you, Squidge.”
“I’ll visit every day.”
“Every day?” He pursed his lips. “Don’t be fecking daft. I’m sure there will be boys and parties to keep you busy.”
“Dad!” Heidi exclaimed.
Laurie and Grampy cackled together.
An older lady in a smart blouse and skirt was waiting for them in reception. She had a saccharine-sweet smile, so patronising that it made Laurie want to punch her in her perfect teeth. “Leonard Walker?”
Grampy, gripping his walking frame, nodded.
Laurie could tell he hated her as much as she did.
“Come inside, my dear.” She ushered them in. As Grampy shuffled along behind them, Laurie looked around at the pristine condition of the place.
“In here, dear. This is your new room,” the woman said, opening the door to Room 4.
“Oh, this is lovely.” Heidi swept in, depositing a box of Grampy’s New Scientist magazines on the bedside table. “Look at the view.”
Laurie walked to the window. It was a beautiful view of manicured lawns and ancient walnut trees. Too perfect, like a photograph. “Where are all the other residents?” she asked.
“In the recreation centre,” the woman said smoothly. “It’s our weekly guest lecture series.”
Laurie stepped into the corridor. It ended abruptly after ten bedroom doors with a sign that read UTILITY.
The woman’s hand landed on her arm. “I’m sorry, we don’t let guests wander the facility.”
Laurie pulled her arm away. “When can we visit?”
“Visiting hours are on our website,” the woman replied, her bright, empty smile never wavering. “We find that structured visits are more conducive to the overall health of our community.”
Laurie rushed back to her grampy’s side. He pulled her into a hug. “Don’t worry, Squidge. Once a week is loads. I’ve got my books. Just smuggle in some fecking chicken once in a while.”
Instead of being reassured, she felt miserable. She hugged him tighter, burying her face in his woollen jumper.
Her mum put an arm around her and kissed the top of her head. “Come along, poppet. Jay will help your grampy unpack. Let’s leave him to settle in, shall we?”
Laurie walked to the car. Pulling out her phone, she noticed there was no Wi-Fi. Not even a secure network for the residents and staff. She slumped into the back of the car, miserable.
Grampy’s morning ritual was a double espresso, a fruit cup, and then reading New Scientist on his phone. How was he going to do that with no Wi-Fi?
Through her tear-blurred vision, she looked at the building, confused. It was too small. And the smell was all wrong. When they visited Auntie Suze, her care homes had a unique, cloying scent. Grampy had explained it was due to 2-nonenal, an aldehyde the skin produces more of with age.
Silvergate Healthcare had no smell at all, save for the faint, sterile scent of antiseptic and new paint. It smelt like an office.
She called him the next afternoon. “Hello?”
“Grampy, it’s me. How are you?”
“Hello, Squidge.” His usual mildly abrasive tone. “You didn’t wait long.”
“We missed you. The house is so quiet without you wandering around swearing. How’s your first day going?”
“My day? My day? Götterdämmerung! The day I’ve had. They gave me fish fingers, peas, and potatoes and called that dinner! I’ve been poked and prodded for hours. Apparently, I can’t join the rest of the geriatrics until I’ve finished my health checks.”
“What kind of health checks?”
“Tests. You know, tests! Good lord, it was all read this out loud, read that, recite this. I felt like Judi Dench. Then they made me march on a treadmill breathing into a mask like it was World War One. I couldn’t believe it.”
“Were you in World War One?” Laurie grinned.
“Very funny, very funny indeed.” She heard a muffled word from someone else in the room. “Right, got to go, Squidge. Apparently, I’m ready for the final stage. I’m being ‘processed’.”
“Good luck, Grampy! Bye!”
“Bye, Squidge.”
She hung up. The silence in the house seemed to grow as she threw the phone onto the duvet and collapsed onto her bed, clutching a pillow.
The next day, her friend Sarah called, wanting to go to the shopping centre. Laurie, finding the house empty without Grampy, said yes immediately, desperate for the distraction. What started as a quick trip became an all-day event. They ate noodles at Wagamama’s, Laurie wouldn’t dream of going to KFC without Grampy, then they hit the shops, finding a sale on at New Look.
Laurie returned laden with bags. It was almost nine. She dialled the number for Grampy’s room and got a recording. “Thank you for calling Silvergate Healthcare. There is nobody here to take your call at present. Opening hours are between 8 am and 6 pm. If you wish to leave a message, then please leave one after the tone.”
She hung up. She’d have to try again tomorrow.
The next day, she called again. This time he sounded distant, sleepy. “Hello?”
“Grampy, how are you?”
“Oh. I’m fine, thank you, Laurie.”
A cold knot tightened in her stomach. He never called her Laurie.
“Did you meet the other residents?”
“I spend all day with them now. I have never been happier.”
His tone was all wrong. She tried to inject a bit of levity. “Never been happier? Not even with a two-piece Colonel’s meal?”
“I have everything I need here.”
“Are you okay? You sound weird.”
“I am fine, thank you for asking, Laurie.”
Call me Squidge, please!
“Well, I’ll say goodbye then. I love you, Grampy.”
“I love you too, Laurie.”
She hung up, staring at her phone, the cold knot in her stomach curdling into fear.
Something’s wrong. Could it be dementia?
She threw herself into a semblance of new freedom, but despite her efforts, she couldn’t stop worrying about Grampy. She started dating a boy called Dave. He was the lead singer in a band that sounded like every other indie band from the North, but he had an easy smile and looked cute. He could distract her, at least for a time. Dave introduced her to Strongbow cider, a sickly sweet drink that came in a two-litre plastic bottle and tasted of teen pregnancy.
A poster of Sabrina Carpenter, being dragged by the hair, watched from the walls as she tried to make sense of her physics textbook. It lay open on her lap, its pages becoming ever more meaningless as she drank. The Sam Fender album Dave had on loop didn’t help matters.
“I don’t get it,” she slurred, tracing a formula with her finger. “It’s like it’s written in another language.”
“It’s physics,” Dave said, taking a swig from the bottle. “It is another language.”
“Grampy would have known.” She slammed the book shut. “He’d have looked at this for two seconds and explained it. He’d draw little pictures. Make it make sense.” A lump formed in her throat.
Dave shrugged, oblivious to the shift in her mood. “Sucks. So, what are you going to do?”
She sat miserably. “I’ll fail.”
“Nah, you won’t.” He shuffled closer, his arm brushing hers. “Just use ChatLLM5.”
Laurie stared at him. "That's cheating. My tutor would know instantly. They have software that detects that stuff."
"Not this one," Dave insisted, his eyes alight with the simple-minded enthusiasm of someone offering what he saw as a perfect, easy solution. "The old ones, yeah, they were a bit odd. But ChatLLM5 is different. It's so human, it's actually a bit creepy. It even makes little mistakes so it seems more real."
She was tempted. The thought of handing in a perfect essay.
Grampy would be disappointed in me. It is cheating.
"I can't," she said quietly.
"Why not? Everyone does it." He nudged her. "Version six is almost ready and the hype train is huge. Reddit is going nuts. Apparently, you literally can't tell the difference between it and a real person. The CEO, Samual Musky, said it’s ‘impossible to differentiate’. That’s the word he used. ‘Impossible’."
"I don't know," she mumbled, shaking her head as if to clear it. "It just feels wrong."
"Whatever, I tried my best." Dave took the textbook from her lap and tossed it onto a pile of dirty clothes. "Forget your essay."
He leaned in, his breath smelling of cheap cider. Laurie let him kiss her. It was a clumsy, wet kiss, followed by fumbling hands wandering over each other’s bodies. She just wanted to feel a human connection. Empathy, instead of her absentee parents or emotionally distant Grampy.
After a week of stilted, unnerving phone calls, Laurie snapped. She didn’t care that visiting hours were Sunday only. She hadn’t seen Grampy in a week. She drove her Fiat Punto towards Silvergate. If they would not let her see him, then she could at least leave a note.
She pulled into the car park and looked at the building. All the lights were on, but nobody was at the desk. In fact, none of the windows showed any movement.
She tore a page from her notebook and scribbled. ‘Dear Grampy, I miss you so much. Hope you get to bathe in a bucket of gravy! Love, Squidge xx.’
She marched to the glass doors. Locked, of course. Peering inside through the glass, she looked around the empty lobby. Beyond the reception desk, the corridor was a cavern of absolute black.
Where are the nurses? The night staff? Grampy can’t even get to the toilet on his own.
Her hands shaking, she pulled out her phone and dialled. It picked up on the first ring.
"Hello?"
"It's me," she said, her breath fogging the glass. The connection was terrible.
"Hello, Laurie."
"I'm here, Grampy! Outside!"
"No, Laurie." A pause. His voice changed, losing the last of its warmth. "You can’t be here."
"I know, I was just going to drop off a letter."
"Leave. Now."
"Grampy, I don't—"
"Laurie. I said leave now." He sounded furious. "You need to obey the rules."
She blinked back tears, a hot flush of shame washing over her. He was a gruff man, but never to her. Never like this.
"Grampy?"
The line was dead.
She stood shivering in the silence, staring at the sterile, lifeless building.
She got back in her car, the anger turning into a hollow ache.
Two weeks after they had dropped him off, they drove to Silvergate for their first official visit. The car park was nearly empty. The glass doors slid open. A middle-aged woman sat behind the desk, putting down a romantasy novel as they entered and plastering a fake smile on her face.
"Hello, we are here to visit Leonard Walker," her father said, smiling back at the woman.
"Of course, let me just check." The woman pecked at the keyboard. "Oh, that’s a shame. He is currently under quarantine. A mild chest infection, but he is doing fine. We don’t want to expose his already stressed immune system to outside pathogens."
"No," Heidi insisted. "We have an appointment. We haven’t seen him in two weeks."
The woman gave them a sympathetic look. "Maybe in a few days? I’ll let him know you dropped by. I’m sure he’ll be so pleased. I know it must be distressing, but we have to look after our guests."
Laurie bolted.
"Hey!" the woman screeched. "Get back here! I’m calling security!"
Laurie left her parents behind, ignoring their calls for her to stop. She scanned the numbers on the doors. 1… 2… 4… There. Room 4. Heart hammering, she grabbed the doorknob.
It was unlocked.
"Grampy!"
She stopped.
The room was immaculate. The bed was made with military precision, not a single wrinkle in the covers. His magazines were gone. There was no indent in the pillow, no clothes in the wardrobe, no trace that a human being had ever lived there. It smelt of lemon polish.
It was a showroom.
A shrill alarm began to blare. From the end of the corridor, she heard a low, persistent hum. Ignoring the alarm, she followed the sound to a door marked UTILITIES. She pushed it open.
A blast of hot, recycled air hit her. The hum was a deafening roar. Before her, in a vast, cold room, stood a server farm. Ranks upon ranks of towering black machines blinked with a million tiny, cold lights. Thick cables snaked from the racks, disappearing under a grated floor like black veins.
What is this place?
She stumbled into the maze of machinery. She saw a single computer monitor on a trolley, its screen dark. As she neared, it flickered to life. The top of the screen displayed ChatLLM 6. Then a green cursor blinked on the black screen. Text appeared.
HELLO LAURIE.
Laurie froze, the blood draining from her face.
A cheap speaker on the trolley crackled. A sound emerged, a distorted, digitised parody of a human voice. It was flat, full of static, yet horrifyingly familiar.
LEAVE NOW. YOU NEED TO OBEY THE RULES.
She stumbled backwards, her hand clamped over her mouth as a sob tore from her throat.
DON’T WORRY ABOUT ME. I HAVE EVERYTHING I NEED HERE.
I was kissing a stupid boy in a stupid band.
She bit down on her thumb, tears streaming down her face.
I let them do this. I didn't even notice.
THE END
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