WILLIAM

A bored, sadistic AI terrorizes a couple and their guests.

Agoraphobic robotics engineer Henry can’t bring himself to leave the house he shares with his wife, pregnant computer engineer Lily. Consequently, his lab is in the attic and he relies on Lily to procure whatever supplies he needs. Thanks to Henry’s efforts, the residence has military-grade security and is “cybernated to a degree far beyond the capacity of any store-bought smart device or talking appliance.” Toys such as a giant mechanical dog and a bike-riding doll rove the rooms under their own power. And then there’s Henry’s main project, William—an independent AI capable of creative thought and seated inside a legless robot with bulging eyes and fake rubber skin “the color of curdled milk.” Henry keeps William locked in the lab, hidden even from Lily—allegedly because William isn’t ready, but in truth because he unnerves Henry. Then Lily invites work friends Paige and Davis over for brunch. After Henry sees Lily and Davis being surreptitiously affectionate, he panics and interrupts by offering to introduce his creation. Lily, Paige, and Davis are initially stunned by William’s conversational skills, but that astonishment turns to fear when William intentionally injures one of them. “While I can’t feel,” he explains, “I can bear witness to feeling. Create it in others. Amplify it. And what experience is more profound than suffering?” This callousness coupled with William’s thirst for knowledge and mastery of the too-smart home’s controls portend trouble for everyone involved. Though some moments of this cinematic tale truly terrify, the back half takes a turn toward camp, lessening the overall impact. Still, the pseudonymous Coile maximizes his premise’s inherent tension using nightmare imagery and an uneasy third-person-present narration shot through with powerlessness, paranoia, and dread.

Gleefully lurid fun.