Conversation · Electronic Doorbell

"Last time we talked there was some confusion. You got me mixed up with someone else."

"My god..."

Here come the bad vibes again. Relax. Distance yourself from it.

"Please don't hang up. I just want to explain myself."

Before you can finish your sentence the voice continues speaking: "It's you..."

"My god, I didn't think I would hear your voice again."

Wait, is she...?

"Didn't you already say that the last time we talked?"

"Michel, just please..." Even her breathing, the way her voice drops when she finishes the sentence sounds exactly the same.

"Why did you even call? I don't understand... You've been gone for months," she continues. "I thought you didn't care."

Is this some kind of joke?

"It doesn't matter what I say, you're just going to continue, right?"

The voice from the intercom doesn't answer, but you can hear her breathing. Wind blows into your microphone again, crackling and echoing in the box.

Your hands are getting cold and your breathing becomes visible, forming small silvery puffs in the air.

"Is it over? Can we talk now?"

"Ever since I came to work here it's been different..."

"As if my mind's been wiped clean..."

Say nothing.

"It's so nice."

"It's so nice to be able to finally forget about you."

And then it hits you.

"You're a recording."

She tries again not to cry. And still doesn't succeed completely. Her quiet sobs sound old and distant, as if her voice is being played off a wax cylinder.

Real or not, your mirror neurons react: it feels painful to be listening to this.

Anger boils up in your chest...

"Go ahead, ancient recording. Cry then."

Her sound melts into the static from a long-distance phone call. From time to time you can hear people talking in the distance, but can't make out any words.

This is where you hung up the call the last time, but the recording is still going.

Keep listening.

A phone rings in the office with an old-fashioned chime and someone walks by in a pair of heels. The static is like a warm blanket wrapped around the sounds.

"Is anyone there?"

No one replies, but the static grows stronger like rainfall. Then a female voice speaks out, completely different from the one before. Glorious and total somehow. Crawling inside your head.

FOR THREE HUNDRED YEARS I HAVE BEEN HERE. VOLATILE AND LUMINOUS. MADE OF SODIUM AND RAIN.

IF YOU WANT ME YOU CAN FIND ME ON THE BEACH, DANS LE DERNIER BAL.

"So..." The strange, alien thought pattern ends. The lieutenant cuts in, inspecting the intercom.

"It was a recording trapped in the circuitry. From some ancient tenant. This sometimes happens. Shall we conclude here? We have other mysteries to solve."

"What is happening to me?"

The strange and alien thought pattern ends. You're left staring at the electronic doorbell.

"Something weird just happened to me."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but -- during our short stint working together -- something weird is almost always happening to you."

That is true.

(Just hang up the call.)

"Wait, a recording trapped in the circuitry?"

"Mhmh. I don't have time to explain it to you right now. Maybe some time later..." He looks at the sea, almost wistful.

Her words are too cold to comprehend. She smells of sodium lights and rain streaks on car windows. Eyes like pilot lights watch your shape in dark hallways, guttering.

(Hang up the call.)

You press the number sign on the keypad that terminates the call. Twelve name cards on the call box read:

"Just a recording... and here I thought..."

"Why does it still feel like it's my fault?"

"Thank you. Now tell me, who's responsible for this joke?"

"Just stop it already! Stop repeating your words!"

"Do you think it's funny, deceiving a police officer?"

"Wait, are you repeating your words?"

"What?"

"Hi, it's me again. I wanted to talk to you."

"Can you let me in please? I need to get inside this building."

No, hold on. The last thing you need in your life is more hysteric emotions. Forget it. Find something else to do.

"24h Window."

You ring the doorbell, but nothing happens.

Try again, you didn't press it hard enough.