Dialed In

The Archivist:

Recording begins. Statement of Charles Monk regarding a phone boo- The Archivist lets out a long exasperated sigh. Martin!

Martin:

Now Jon I know, but if you keep rea-

The Archivist:

A supernatural phone book? When I asked you to curate the statements, it was implied that you were to remove the ones that were clearly ill-attempts at humor.

Martin:

Yes, I know. And I have. I promise this statement is real, or feels real you know?

The Archivist:

The tape is already running so don't worry, I won't be wasting it. But do keep in mind what constitutes an actual statement in the future. The door closes. The Archivist lets out another sigh, this one full of a deep exhaustion. Sasha and Tim cannot return soon enough. Ahem. Statement of Charles Monk regarding a phone book. Original statement given July 6th, 2010. Recorded by Jonathan Sims, head archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. Statement begins.

Have you ever seen a phone book in a used bookshop? Or even a library? I sure hadn't. That's why I was so shocked when I was browsing this little corner shop, Nook 'n' Cranny or something like that, and saw a phone book for sale. Some place in the States called Aurora. I flipped it open for a laugh and saw something stamped on the inside of the cover. "From the Library of Jurgen Leitner." I mean, who keeps a phone book in their private library? Was about to put it back but decided what the hell? It was only 99p and would be a great coffee table book. A Brit with an outdated Yank phone book? Can't make that up if you tried. The cashier looked confused when I brought it up to the till and I was scared she wouldn't sell it to me. Then she shrugged and off I went, prize in hand. Went home and flipped through it before I went out for the night. Not really much to say about it, it’s a phone book. When the sun finally set I put the book down and got ready to go out. I've been in a bit of a dry spell lately, and I was looking on fixing that tonight. At around midnight I ended up at some club called the Neon Wave. It's what you would expect. I already had a few drinks in me and was feeling good, but what's wrong with feeling even better? I made my way to the bar and ordered another. While I waited for it to be made, my eyes met with another. She was gorgeous. Long blonde hair and clothes that were more string than actual fabric. Face covered in thick makeup, she looked like a fun time. Not necessarily someone to bring home to my parents, but look I didn't say I was looking for my wife, just a quick lay. After I downed my drink I made my way over to her. I'll spare you the details, but after some dancing I went to get her number. She gave me a phone number alright, just not hers. I knew it. Not in a "Oh I'm sure it's not her real number," but I knew it for a fact. I even knew which digit wasn't right. In fact, I even knew what it was supposed to be. I didn't say anything. Why would I? It would only cause a scene and let's face it, I was drunk. I probably imagined the whole thing. Needless to say I went home alone and woke up with a killer hangover. I barely remembered the girl until I saw a number written on my hand. The fake number. I dialed it and received a "The number you are trying to reach is no longer in service." message. Like I expected. Then I dialed the number I knew was correct. After a few moments of ringing, someone had picked up. "Ello?" was all she got out before I hung up. I wasn't imagining it. I knew her number, I don't know how but I did. I dialed again. "Ello? Who is this?" I almost hung up again out of fear but I fought through the impulse. "Hey, it's Charlie from last night. Just called to make sure you made it home okay." She was silent for a bit. I thought the call cut but then she spoke again. "Oh yeah, thanks for checking but I've got to go." The call ended quickly. The fear in her voice was unmistakable. I guess I could understand why she was scared, but come on I was calling to check on her. That's a good thing! It's amazing what you can find from someone's number. In less than an hour I had found her socials and not long after that I found where she worked. Some nothing coffee shop. And let me tell you, I could go for a cup after the previous night's activities. I get a cab, a small quiet man driving it. He had three different phone numbers. Presumably a cell, work and a secret, hidden one. Something he didn't want the missus to know about. It didn't take long to get there, could very easily start walking there, once me and her really hit it off. He asked for the fare. I told him the hidden number and suddenly the ride was free of charge.

It was a cozy shop. Not too many customers at this hour. I suppose the early bird only gets the worm on the weekdays.

And there she was, standing behind the counter. The lighting, or lack thereof, in the club certainly did her wonders, but I was already here. She seemed confused by my wide smile as I ordered. Evidently the lighting didn't help me and she simply forgot what I looked like. It wasn't until I gave her my name that she realized who I was. And she screamed! She was terrified! I put my hand out to reassure her and she slapped it away. Now, even on a bad day I'm a reasonable guy, but I thought this was way past rude and asked to speak to her manager. She didn't even acknowledge my request, instead she started to back up and then she ran! She actually ran! I couldn't believe it. Such a gross overreaction, and she didn't even give me the courtesy of letting me explain myself. I left through the front door to see if I could catch up to her, and I almost did. That is, until she saw me again and ran across the street. She was so focused on getting away from me she didn't see the bus coming. I heard someone shouting to call the police and I had to fight a laugh. That's one number everyone knows, so I left it for someone else to dial. It really was a quick walk back to my flat. I did some more digging online, this time on weird stuff. The supernatural and the like. This place came up a bunch. So here I am. More people here than I would've expected. Lots of phone numbers to collect. You can go to the police I suppose, tell them what I've written here. Just remember, you can learn a lot from a phone number.

Statement ends.