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I'm David Remnick, host of the New Yorker Radio Hour.

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I'm chilling, chilling.

House sitting for some fancy people.

This beautiful, gorgeous estate, like something out of a James Bond movie.

Each of the bathrooms bigger than my entire apartment.

And I'm king of this castle for two full weeks.

All I do is make sure nobody like me gets in here.

Private movie theater, wine cellar, infinity pool, no secret layer worth

it salt can be a secret layer without the infinity pool. So it's there in the pool I recline

on the flotation device. The cocktail shaking, not stirred, sweating in the cup holder.

Even as nighttime descends upon the city below, I said I was chilling.

And then, then, this keening, chittering, clicking, a man-sized shadow, specter drops from the sky just above the far end of the pool.

Terror.

I see terror in the darkness.

I see them gliding.

Gliding maybe two, three inches above the water, gliding

directly toward me.

Closer, closer, and I can't even scream as this shadow passes directly over my nose,

...