The call that never came
Jennifer was drifting in a sleepy haze when she thought she heard her phone buzz. She’d turned off the ringer, but had she set it so it wouldn’t vibrate? She couldn’t remember. She fumbled around on her nightstand, eyes still closed, until her hand found the familiar shape. “Hello?”
There was a long silence, a click, and then a distant mechanical voice said “please state your order.”
Jennifer frowned. “Wha…”
“Please state your order” the voice repeated, a little louder, and definitely more insistently.
She shook her head against the pillow. “Nothing. You must have…”
The voice cut her off this time. “Thank you. Your order is being processed and will be delivered soon.” There was another click and silence on the line.
She set the phone back down on the nightstand and closed her eyes again. She didn’t even want to know what time it was.
Two days later, she had almost completely forgotten about the call. She came home from work and was surprised to see a package under the welcome mat by the front door. She wasn’t expecting anything. She gathered the mail (mostly junk), and the strangely heavy cardboard box and went inside. She was certain she hadn’t ordered anything, and it was nowhere near her birthday. The label was hand printed, and very simple. It was just her name and address, and “FROM: Oblivion Enterprises” in the upper left corner. Jennifer hefted the box again, and then dropped it on the table in the entry hall with her keys and the rest of the mail and turned away. She wanted to make dinner. Strange packages could wait.
Later that night, or rather, very early the next morning, she awoke from a dark dream and answered her phone again. “Hello?”
“We trust that your order of Nothing is to your satisfaction. Payment in full is due.”
She blinked herself awake and sat up a little in the bed. “Who is this?”
“Indeed not.”
Suddenly remembering that she didn’t just need to rely on the strange caller’s cooperation, she lifted the phone from her face and peered at it. It was oddly dark. Usually her cellphone lit up when she was on a call, displaying the caller’s name and number. Frowning, she brought the phone back up to her cheek. “You must have the wrong number. I haven’t ordered anything.”
“Our records are never in error.”
She was getting irritated now. “That’s ridiculous! I haven’t ordered anything!”
“That is correct.”
“What? But you just said…”
“You have not ordered Anything, as you said.”
Jennifer laughed. This was so bizarre. “Well, all right then.”
“Would you like to place another order at this time?”
“Nooooo….” Maybe this was just a bizarre mixup? The voice really did sound mechanical, though it had periods of odd inflection.
And then there was that strange silence, and a click on the line. “Hello? Hello?” Jennifer rubbed her temples and finally reached over and clicked on the bedside lamp. She turned the phone over in her hand a few times. It seemed to be working fine now - it lit up when she turned it on, and it was definitely set to be completely silent. She wasn’t sure how she had even known someone was calling. She flopped back in the bed, suddenly exhausted, then rolled back over and grabbed her phone again. She turned it on, winced at the time, and checked the “recent calls” list. Her mom… Liz… Robbie… the mystery caller wasn’t there at all. Not the one from the other night, and not the one she’d just taken.
Suddenly, the strangely heavy box downstairs didn’t seem so inconsequential. She left her phone on the nightstand, pulled on her bathrobe, and went downstairs. Jennifer was so spooked that she turned on every light she passed. She approached the little table with her keys and mail slowly, nervously. She tried to tell herself she was being silly, overreacting, but the box had taken on a sinister air for her now, and the little mystery was no longer fun or funny. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror above the table and tried to smile. “Come on, Jennifer. Pull it together” she whispered to herself encouragingly.
She picked up her keys and sliced through the packing tape and the label on the top of the box, carefully lifting the cardboard flaps. Jennifer stared into the box, trying to comprehend what she was seeing. It was… it wasn’t… it wasn’t anything at all. It wasn’t dark, and it wasn’t bright. The box wasn’t empty - she was certain of that at least - but the thing inside didn’t make sense. She couldn’t make her mind see the edges of it, though she was certain it fit into the box, and so must surely be smaller than its container. Distantly, she heard the sound of her keys clinking against the floor near her feet.
She nearly screamed when she heard the voice, drifting up from the box this time. “Are you prepared to make payment now?”
Jennifer’s eyes were wide and scared, her face pale. “I… I… what do I owe?” she whispered.
“Something of equal value.”
She swallowed hard. “I don’t understand.”
The voice seemed to be losing patience. “If you are unable or unwilling to pay, I can assure you, our collection agents will be visiting you presently.”
“No! I…”
“Are you prepared to make payment now?”
“I don’t understand the cost!” Her voice was high and thin with hysteria.
“Then you should not have ordered the product.”
Her thoughts were racing, panicked. Maybe she could offer to return the box? She didn’t want a box full of Nothing anyway! Her hands were shaking, and she reached out to shut the box again, to close away the voice and the void and this whole horrible dream.
Something cold - no, icy - touched her wrist.
Jennifer looked up into her own eyes, familiar and somehow not. “Time to pay up” her reflection said in an awful imitation of her own voice. She felt a hard tug, a sharp pain in her head, heard the sound of breaking glass and a ringing phone. After that, there was Nothing.
There was a long silence, a click, and then a distant mechanical voice said “please state your order.”
Jennifer frowned. “Wha…”
“Please state your order” the voice repeated, a little louder, and definitely more insistently.
She shook her head against the pillow. “Nothing. You must have…”
The voice cut her off this time. “Thank you. Your order is being processed and will be delivered soon.” There was another click and silence on the line.
She set the phone back down on the nightstand and closed her eyes again. She didn’t even want to know what time it was.
Two days later, she had almost completely forgotten about the call. She came home from work and was surprised to see a package under the welcome mat by the front door. She wasn’t expecting anything. She gathered the mail (mostly junk), and the strangely heavy cardboard box and went inside. She was certain she hadn’t ordered anything, and it was nowhere near her birthday. The label was hand printed, and very simple. It was just her name and address, and “FROM: Oblivion Enterprises” in the upper left corner. Jennifer hefted the box again, and then dropped it on the table in the entry hall with her keys and the rest of the mail and turned away. She wanted to make dinner. Strange packages could wait.
Later that night, or rather, very early the next morning, she awoke from a dark dream and answered her phone again. “Hello?”
“We trust that your order of Nothing is to your satisfaction. Payment in full is due.”
She blinked herself awake and sat up a little in the bed. “Who is this?”
“Indeed not.”
Suddenly remembering that she didn’t just need to rely on the strange caller’s cooperation, she lifted the phone from her face and peered at it. It was oddly dark. Usually her cellphone lit up when she was on a call, displaying the caller’s name and number. Frowning, she brought the phone back up to her cheek. “You must have the wrong number. I haven’t ordered anything.”
“Our records are never in error.”
She was getting irritated now. “That’s ridiculous! I haven’t ordered anything!”
“That is correct.”
“What? But you just said…”
“You have not ordered Anything, as you said.”
Jennifer laughed. This was so bizarre. “Well, all right then.”
“Would you like to place another order at this time?”
“Nooooo….” Maybe this was just a bizarre mixup? The voice really did sound mechanical, though it had periods of odd inflection.
And then there was that strange silence, and a click on the line. “Hello? Hello?” Jennifer rubbed her temples and finally reached over and clicked on the bedside lamp. She turned the phone over in her hand a few times. It seemed to be working fine now - it lit up when she turned it on, and it was definitely set to be completely silent. She wasn’t sure how she had even known someone was calling. She flopped back in the bed, suddenly exhausted, then rolled back over and grabbed her phone again. She turned it on, winced at the time, and checked the “recent calls” list. Her mom… Liz… Robbie… the mystery caller wasn’t there at all. Not the one from the other night, and not the one she’d just taken.
Suddenly, the strangely heavy box downstairs didn’t seem so inconsequential. She left her phone on the nightstand, pulled on her bathrobe, and went downstairs. Jennifer was so spooked that she turned on every light she passed. She approached the little table with her keys and mail slowly, nervously. She tried to tell herself she was being silly, overreacting, but the box had taken on a sinister air for her now, and the little mystery was no longer fun or funny. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror above the table and tried to smile. “Come on, Jennifer. Pull it together” she whispered to herself encouragingly.
She picked up her keys and sliced through the packing tape and the label on the top of the box, carefully lifting the cardboard flaps. Jennifer stared into the box, trying to comprehend what she was seeing. It was… it wasn’t… it wasn’t anything at all. It wasn’t dark, and it wasn’t bright. The box wasn’t empty - she was certain of that at least - but the thing inside didn’t make sense. She couldn’t make her mind see the edges of it, though she was certain it fit into the box, and so must surely be smaller than its container. Distantly, she heard the sound of her keys clinking against the floor near her feet.
She nearly screamed when she heard the voice, drifting up from the box this time. “Are you prepared to make payment now?”
Jennifer’s eyes were wide and scared, her face pale. “I… I… what do I owe?” she whispered.
“Something of equal value.”
She swallowed hard. “I don’t understand.”
The voice seemed to be losing patience. “If you are unable or unwilling to pay, I can assure you, our collection agents will be visiting you presently.”
“No! I…”
“Are you prepared to make payment now?”
“I don’t understand the cost!” Her voice was high and thin with hysteria.
“Then you should not have ordered the product.”
Her thoughts were racing, panicked. Maybe she could offer to return the box? She didn’t want a box full of Nothing anyway! Her hands were shaking, and she reached out to shut the box again, to close away the voice and the void and this whole horrible dream.
Something cold - no, icy - touched her wrist.
Jennifer looked up into her own eyes, familiar and somehow not. “Time to pay up” her reflection said in an awful imitation of her own voice. She felt a hard tug, a sharp pain in her head, heard the sound of breaking glass and a ringing phone. After that, there was Nothing.