The speaker screeched. A lamp flew off the dresser. From the speaker’s grille, a black smoke that smelled of burnt silicon and ozone curled upward, forming the shape of a horned skull.
“Exorcizo te, omnis spiritus immunde,” Mateo began, sprinkling holy water onto the device. The water sizzled, not from heat, but from a sudden surge of static electricity.
Mateo entered Leo’s room. The walls were covered in noise-canceling foam. A single RGB light strip pulsed an unholy magenta. In the center, on a Hello Kitty nightstand, sat the speaker: a sleek, black hockey puck, its light ring spinning like a tiny cyclone.
The room temperature dropped fifteen degrees. But the smart thermostat, Mateo noticed, still read 72°. The entity was hacking his senses.