Skios

14

Somewhere in the world, perhaps in America or India, inside one vast electronic machine among a bank of others, an inaudible voice was saying, “Hi! I know it sounds like me. But it’s not me. It’s just my phone, pretending.…”

And then, inside perhaps the same machine, perhaps a different one, on a different continent even, another inaudible voice was saying in a desperate whisper, “Oliver, will you please answer your phone! I’m locked in the bathroom! He’s hammering on the door! I thought it was you! He nearly raped me! I don’t know how to phone the police in this country! Oliver! Please help me! I’m all on my own! In the bathroom!”

And then, a minute or two later, perhaps inside one of the same machines, perhaps not: “Hi! I know it sounds like me. But it’s not me…”

Followed by a voice that had risen to a hysterical scream: “Oliver! Where are you? He was in bed! He was pretending to be you! He hasn’t done something to you, has he? Tied you up? Murdered you…?”

* * *

And inside perhaps once again the same machine, perhaps another one in some completely different part of the world, two inaudible voices talking simultaneously. A man’s:

“Listen, I don’t know what’s going on here — some woman has broken into the guest quarters — she’s having hysterics — she’s locked herself in the bathroom — can you send someone — or call the police — or tell me what to dial? What did you say?”

And a woman’s:

“You have reached the Fred Toppler Foundation. There is no one here right now to take your call…”