You step into the booth and press the receiver to your ear.

You step into the booth and press the receiver to your ear.

You step into the booth and press the receiver of the 'Phone that Makes People Disappear' against your ear.

A sudden cramp wracks your body as an electricity runs through it, but there was no current.

Flashbacks from your interrogation.

I deserved that, and worse.

Silence answers your thoughts.

The crackling void is different from the last time you used this phone in some inexpressible way.

True emptiness - no signal reroute.

Inside you know: It is over. They are no longer listening in. This has gone back to being just a payphone.

That bitch... she's probably listening in right now. Laughing.

She's fucked when I find her.

As far as interrogations go, it wasn't that bad.

You step into the booth and press the receiver of the 'Phone that Makes People Disappear' against your ear.

"Cousins. Moon. Reunion." (Say the keywords without dialling.)

You hear only the reverberation of your own voice amplified by the phone.

Occurring at a perceptual level so low that it's hard to distinguish from things merely imagined, you hear a click down the line.

"Cousins. Moon. Reunion." (Say it again.)

Nothing. Nada. Nichivo.

Have you seen yourself? A solitary woman jabbering into a phone, repeating random words.

This is exactly what sane people do.

Keep waiting.

With cult-like patience, you wait for some kind of rapture to come, but nothing happens.

It's possible that Yana's intelligence was faulty, and that the old Luzian guy's disappearance had nothing to do with the 'hyper incriminating shit' he said into the payphone.

They probably listen in through the wire. Try making a call and then saying the words.

Say a few words into a random payphone? Easy.

A lance of dread pierces your sternum at the thought of it.

Surely you have better sources than the natterings of deranged old men.

Nothing's going to happen, is it?

Nothing like what was promised, at least.

Wait.

Nothing. Nada. Nichivo.

Time seems to hold its breath with you as you wait, listening.

Then it all lets go, dissipating into the micro-traffic of the imperceived world.

That did nothing. (Give up.)

Still half-hoping for something to happen, you put the receiver down. Nothing happens.

I have no idea what to say.

You know at least one thing about the people on the other end of the line -- they snatched Tempo's liason.

"To whoever is listening in on this phone... I know you're holding the prisoner 'Dante'."

The sound of your own breath amplified through the receiver loop is all that answers you.

"I want to speak to him."

Your breath grows louder, and so does the silence.

Maybe you imagine it. Maybe you heard it, infinitely faintly... a slight, barely perceptible, click.

"Come and get me."

Never mind, this is stupid. [Hang up.]

You hang up the phone, undisappeared.

"I'm prepared to make a deal. Let's talk terms."

"To whoever is listening in on this phone... I know you're a holding a Luzian prisoner."

"Are you listening?"

The sound of your own breath amplified through the receiver loop is all that answers you.

"I know you're there. I know you can hear me."

"I want to disappear."

Never mind, this is stupid. [Hang up.]

"I've heard people who use this phone have a bad habit of disappearing."

If the stall owner's story is true, then the old man was onto something. You should ask her for what he said to get himself kidnapped.

Nah, I'll just improvise.

Bold to think that you could tickle the kidnapper's sensibilities on instinct alone, but it might be worth a shot.

The old man was kidnapped for what he knew or had discovered, and you know nothing.

Just address them.

Alright, I'll ask her. [Leave.]

Say the words that will get you disappeared.

Distantly, you hear yourself dialling a number, uncertain if anyone will pick up.

"You are through to Portofiro's most reliable photographique lab. How may I be of assistance?"

"I've been thinking about the moon lately, Constanz."

"CASCADE, is that you? What are you talking about?" She sounds flustered.

"It's kind of like a cousin to the planet, wouldn't you say?"

"CASCADE, are you on dru-... Oh! You're speaking in code!" She hisses excitedly.

An absolute lapse in stagecraft that plays to your advantage just now.

Occurring at a perceptual level so low that it's hard to distinguish from things merely imagined, you hear a click somewhere down the line.

It's working. Keep it going for as long as you can.

"We need a great big family reunion in the sky..."

The line suddenly goes dead and leaves you in a hypercharged silence.

You become aware of an infinitude of tiny movements. A total convergence on your surroundings -- all drawn to you, here, right now...

What was that?

Scratch. A heavy boot on concrete. By the time you hear it, it's already happened, and then...

End of transmission.

DEFEAT ALL DOWN THE LINE.

Don't forget your coats as you make for the exits.

An unknowable amount of time later, your consciousness stirs into being. You immediately regret waking up.

Where... am I?

Wherever you are is dark and wet. Your head feels like it's being squeezed by a vice.

The damp tells you that you must still be in the lower city, near the canal.

First, the prisoner. Then, a way out.

This was a mistake. A horrible mistake.

You've just performed a magic trick. You've teleported yourself into a dark and mysterious realm.

"Hello?"

Wait.

"Bring together the uncles and aunties, and all our celestial cousins..."

In the silence after she speaks, the audio momentarily wavers. The telltale sign that the line has just been interrupted.

In the silence after she speaks, you sense, rather than hear, something on the line. A presence. Someone is listening in.

"What we need is a reunion with our glorious satellite..."

Once more, you brace yourself. The number practically dials itself.

"Guardia Municipal, state your location and the nature of your emergency."

"Cousins. Reuni---"

"Ugh, not this again." The line goes dead once more.

It's hard enough to do this to yourself without the GM ruining it. Next time, next time...

Emergency is the last word you need to hear right now. A reminder of the danger you're deliberately putting yourself in.

"Aunties... planet... fuck, wait..."

"You know, it was kind of funny at the beginning, when it was just the old man, but it's wearing really thin now..."

"Wait, old man? He was kidnapped!"

The line goes dead without another word.

Wait to see if anything happens.

Seconds go by. A house sparrow swoops through the alleyways. Distant cheering from the market stalls comes and goes. You are still there -- alone.

"Shit."

Maybe this whole thing is a wild goose chase. You could just be picking at straws.

Spared from catastrophic error by your own incompetency.

Great. I'll have to try again.

"Don't hang up!"

"Help, officer. Bazaar. Payphone. Disappearances!"

You imagine the scene -- Tempo's associate, clutching this very receiver to his face and whispering something that included the keywords you are about to say, connected in ways you do not yet understand, and you hear yourself mark a number...

You cast yourself into the role -- an old man with too much time on his hands, who has stumbled onto something real and sinister in his idle theorising, and you hear yourself mark a number...

[Leave.]

This is the one. The payphone that makes people disappear.

Alternative wording

This is the one. The payphone that makes people disappear, a.k.a. the Phone Everybody Knows Is Tapped.

Straight to the basement of the magazine office. You can't be sure, and yet you are.

I still think this could all be nonsense.

There's only one way to find out.

Time to get kidnapped, baby.

A giddy feeling rises in you as the payphone receiver emits a hollow whistle in your ear.

Somewhere down the line is a makeshift switchboard with six phones manned by six bored assets. One of those assets is listening in on this call.

It's a common joke that the Opera have preemptively bugged all public phones to spare the Superbloc's citizens the awkwardness of uncertainty.

Well, is it true?

Probably not, but even the Party knows that jokes serve a useful social function.

It's probably the same everywhere, except someone else is tapping.

Here, it could be anyone. All the world powers have a finger or two inside Portofiro.

Listen.

The receiver emits a hollow whisper in your ear.

I don't care about all this kidnapping stuff right now, I just want to make a call.

Depending on what you say and who you call, you may have to care.