Story 6 — The Voice That Sounded Like Amma
In the town where Riya lived, evenings were slow.
Shops closed early. Dogs curled up near doorways. The air smelled faintly of jasmine and dust. When the sun went down, families gathered on rooftops to talk about their day.
Riya liked evenings best.
Her mother — Amma — often left her phone on the table while making tea. Riya wasn’t supposed to use it without asking, but sometimes messages arrived by themselves.
That was how it happened.
Riya was nine. She was drawing in her notebook when the phone buzzed.
Not a call.
A voice message.
The screen lit up.
Amma.
Riya’s heart jumped.
She pressed play.
“Riya,” the voice said softly, “I’m busy right now. I need you to send the code that came to my phone. Quickly.”
Riya froze.
It sounded exactly like Amma.
Same tone.
Same gentle hurry.
Same way she said Riya’s name.
Riya’s fingers trembled.
A message popped up beneath the voice note.
“Code received: 7421”
Riya stared at it.
She knew codes were important. Amma had said so many times.
Never share codes, Amma always said.
But this was Amma’s voice.
Riya’s chest felt tight.
She walked toward the kitchen.
Amma stood near the stove, humming quietly, pouring tea into cups.
“Amma?” Riya asked.
“Yes?” her mother replied, turning around.
Riya held up the phone. “Did you send me a message?”
Amma looked confused. “No. Why?”
Riya pressed play again.
The voice filled the room.
Amma’s smile faded.
“That’s not me,” Amma said slowly.
“But it sounds like you,” Riya whispered.
“I know,” Amma said. “That’s why it’s dangerous.”
They sat together on the floor.
Amma explained gently, not with fear, but with care.
“Some machines can learn voices,” she said. “They copy sounds, not people.”
“But how did it know my name?” Riya asked.
Amma sighed. “Because names travel online more than we think.”
Riya thought of games. Videos. Apps that asked for names “just to be friendly.”
Her stomach turned a little.
That evening, Riya couldn’t stop thinking about the voice.
If she hadn’t checked…
If Amma had been outside…
If she had been alone…
The phone rested quietly on the table, innocent-looking.
Riya didn’t like how calm it looked.
The next day at school, Riya told her friends.
“It happened to my cousin too,” said Ankit. “A voice said it was his uncle.”
“My brother got a message saying our dad was in trouble,” said Noor.
The teacher listened carefully.
“Technology is learning fast,” she said. “So must we.”
That afternoon, Riya sat with her grandmother, who was stitching a torn pillow.
“Paati,” Riya asked, “how do you know when a voice is real?”
Her grandmother tied a knot and smiled.
“You don’t,” she said. “You check.”
“But what if it feels urgent?” Riya asked.
“Especially then,” her grandmother replied.
That night, Riya and Amma created a small rule together.
If a message asked for something important —
they would always check in person or call back.
No matter whose voice it was.
Even Amma’s.
Riya felt safer knowing that.
A few days later, it happened again.
Another voice message.
This time, it sounded like Riya’s uncle.
“Riya,” the voice said, “I need help. Don’t tell anyone.”
Riya’s heart beat fast.
But her hands stayed still.
She didn’t reply.
She walked straight to Amma.
They listened together.
They checked.
It wasn’t real.
That night, Riya wrote something in her notebook:
Voices can lie.
Pausing does not.
She didn’t know where the sentence came from. It just felt right.
Later, as she lay in bed, Riya thought about trust.
She trusted her family.
She trusted her feelings.
But now she understood something new:
Trust didn’t mean acting quickly.
Sometimes, trust meant slowing down.
The phone buzzed again with another message.
Riya didn’t open it.
She looked at the ceiling fan turning slowly above her and wondered:
If machines can copy voices…
what else might they copy next?
And how will children learn to tell the difference?
Riya didn’t feel scared.
She felt alert.
She felt ready to pause.
And she knew that tomorrow,
if a voice called her name again,
she would listen —
but she would also check.
She turned toward the window.
Outside, the night was quiet.
Inside, Riya felt something new growing.
Not fear.
Awareness.
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