The payphone hangs mutely on the wall. There isn't much more to do here.

The payphone hangs mutely on the wall. There isn't much more to do here.

Insert 10 cents.

The machine swallows your coin and seems to be waiting for your next move.

Let your muscle memory dial a random number.

Your fingers run over the dial pad. 005... that's the dialling code for Revachol -- 49-52... and a moment of hesitation before entering the final numbers: 993.

Calling...

Calling...

Still calling... then...

...a crackle, someone picks up! They say: "Video Revachol, 24 hour video rental. We rent eight- and ten-millimetre film for home use. This is Lemmy, how may I help you?"

The voice of a youngster on the other end sounds as enthusiastic as that of a man walking towards the gallows.

"What is this place?"

"Video Revachol is a 24 hour video rental. We rent eight and ten millimetre film for home use. This is Lemmy."

"Do you know me?"

"No."

"Why did I call you?" (Continue.)

"Maybe you called to extend your rental period? Do you need to extend your rental period?"

"My name is Raphaël Ambrosius Costeau. Do you have anything on my name?"

"Raphaël what? Listen, I can't help you over the phone." He sounds annoyed now. "If you need further assistance you can visit us on the corner of Voyager and Main. Are we done?"

He thinks you're pulling a prank on him.

On the corner of Voyager and Main a large neon sign hangs on the side of a building: "Video Revachol, 24h." It's raining and there is almost no traffic on the street. A woman's footprints in the mud lead away from the front door.

Tiny heels, tip-toeing down the road. Beautiful steps, light-footed, with a lifetime ahead of them. You look up and the air seems to grow darker.

Suddenly you feel like you don't want to hear about video rentals anymore. You don't want to hear about any of it. It was all shit. It's over.

What was all shit?

It.

"We're done." Hang up the phone. [Leave.]

"Kim, I feel sad about Video Revachol 24h."

"That's enough for you today," the lieutenant says quietly. "Let's conclude this call."

The call is terminated by the other party. You're left with the discomforting sound of the disconnect tone.

Quietly hang up the phone. [Leave.]

"My name is Harry Something. Do you have anything on my name?"

"What did you say your last name was?"

"Can't we do it without my last name? I can't really remember it."

"Listen, man, I can't help you without your surname." He sounds annoyed now. "If you need further assistance you can visit us on the corner of Voyager and Main. Are we done?"

"Something."

"Something? Listen, I can't help you." He sounds annoyed now. "If you need further assistance you can visit us on the corner of Voyager and Main. Are we done?"

"My name is Harry Du Bois. Do you have anything on my name?"

"Let me fire up the machine..." Keys are being pressed in the background. "Du Bois... Du Bois..."

"Here we are! You haven't rented anything in five years, but you still have a copy of Blue Ocean Hell from November '46. Wooh, not a fun film, that one."

"Oh, okay. Thanks."

"If you can, return it to us on the corner of Voyager and Main."

"What kind of a film is that?"

"Uh... it's not an easy watch." He reads: "'After the death of his daughter and subsequent divorce, Zsiemsk immigrant Igidius Wójcik tries to come to terms with the onset of dementia...'"

He concludes: "No wonder no one's been missing it. Still, it would be great if you could return it to us. We're on the corner of Voyager and Main."

"My name is Harrier Du Bois. Do you have anything on my name?"

"Maybe, but I don't even know my name."

"If you need any further assistance you can visit us on the corner of Voyager and Main." He sounds annoyed now. "I can't help you over the phone -- are we done?"

"No, I meant what is this place to me?"

"Sir, I don't know. It's a video rental. Maybe you rent videos here?"

It's unclear whether you actually have muscle memory. Right now your finger is just drawing vaguely occult patterns in the air.

I might try this again later.

Sure, why not. Muscle memory is a tricky thing.

Nothing tricky about that. You just do, fail, repeat until it works. All it takes is motivation and practice.

Useful patterns?

Undoubtedly, no.

[Leave.]

The already familiar cold touch of plastic welcomes you as you pick up the handset.

An imposing combination of a punch-clock and a payphone is looking down at you from the wall. A note on the side says: "Tokens unavailable due to strike. Use change."