Better Call Maintenance by Laura.Durrant.27

Better Call Maintenance Laura Durrant

Contents Introduction

1. A Feeling of Unease as You Walk into Work

2. Sour Milk

3. Jumping

4. A Warning

5. The Monsters at the End of the World

6. Shadows and Mages

7. Cats

8. Uncontrollable Powers

9. Writerâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Block

10. A Girl in a Night Club

11. A Disobedient Shimmer

12. A List

13. Losing a Friend

14. Murders Downtown

15. Whisperers

16. A Child in Custody

17. The Burning of the Library

18. No Toilet Roll

19. The Unborn Baby Has Not Listened

20. A Voice at the End of a Disconnected Telephone

Introduction Do you have a problem? People whispering behind you in the middle of a concert? Accidentally opened a portal to another dimension? Have you developed strange or unusual powers in the last week? Has your milk gone off? Read on to find someone who can help. This is a collection of short fictions and possible truths, from which you may find an answer to your problems. Some will make you laugh. Others will make you afraid. One will make you feel a distinct sense of déjà vu, although I can’t tell you which. Should you find yourself faced with a problem during the reading of this publication, perhaps you have noticed that your eyes disappear every time you read the letter ‘f’, only for them to reappear every time you read the letter ‘s’, then there is only one thing that I can advise you to do: Better call maintenance.

1. A Feeling of Unease as You Walk into Work

Robert walked into work and noticed immediately that something was wrong, although he couldn’t tell what. Everyone in the office was where they should be. Stacey, the receptionist, greeted him with a smile as usual. The morning exec meeting had already begun and Jeremy was clearly boasting about all his sales with his usual “I know I’m better than all of you” look on his face. But still, the whole office felt odd somehow. Different. He sat cautiously at his computer, where Rachel on the desk opposite him asked how his weekend had been. She asked him this question every Monday, but there was something about her voice, her straight-toothed smile, that made him cringe and set his hair on edge. “Fine, thanks,” he replied, loudly unpacking his bag and avoiding her eyes. He stood up again abruptly after another shiver of fear flowed through him. “You ok?” asked Rachel, frowning. “I’m fine, I’m just going to, er, get a coffee,” Robert replied, marching awkwardly to the kitchen. What was wrong with him? He just wasn’t awake enough, that was all. A strong, black coffee was what he needed. He turned the corner to the kitchen and went to open the door, but something caught his wrist and yanked him into the open stationary cupboard next door. He almost yelped aloud, but a hand clamped over his mouth before he could. The hand let go of his wrist and he saw that it belonged to Stacey. She put a finger to her lips, and motioned for Jeremy to remove the hand clamped over his mouth. “What the hell is going on?” Robert whispered angrily. Looking into the cupboard, he saw more and more faces he recognised, in fact, everyone else in the office was stuffed in between the folders and boxes of staplers. Stacey,

eyes wide, pointed a trembling finger over his shoulder out into the office. “Look.” He frowned and turned around. Everyone in the cupboard behind him was in the office as well. There was Jeremy, still in the meeting; there was Stacey, on the phone behind her desk. And there, to his horror, was a perfect copy of himself sitting down at his desk with a mug of steaming coffee. Robert backed into the stationary cupboard and Jeremy reached around him and pulled the door to. “What do we do?” Robert whispered again. “There’s nothing else for it,” Stacey replied, rolling up her sleeves. “Better call maintenance.”

2. Sour Milk

The milk has arrived. It sits on the doorstep, condensation dripping off the side. A man who may or may not own the milk picks up a bottle and shakes it. He peels off the foil lid and takes a swig. The milk is sour. The man winces and lifts the bottle up to read the three words printed in place of an expiration date:

â&#x20AC;&#x153;Better call maintenance.â&#x20AC;?

3. Jumping

I thought that I would wake up in the arms of a stranger that morning, as I have done on so many mornings in so many different times, but I was pleasantly surprised by the familiar curling hair that met me when I opened my eyes. I kissed Lily gently and her eyelids fluttered open.

“Good morning.” She smiled up at me. “Morning.” I replied. I tried, but I couldn’t keep the grin off my face. I wished for nothing more that to lie in bed with the woman I loved for the rest of the day, but the sun was already up and Jack would be expecting me at the inn. I hauled myself out of bed and Lily rolled over into the warm spot I left. “Do you have to go?” She mumbled, still half asleep. “I think Jack would tear me out of this bed himself if I don’t turn up within the hour.” Lily snorted with laughter as I splashed my face with water from the wash basin on the window sill. “God, I miss showers.” I muttered to myself as I dried my face with a rag. I hadn’t had a shower since two jumps ago, in 1982. The jump before this one had been to around 1100 (the villagers I found weren’t quite sure) and then I’d jumped here, to 1637. It was better than 500 years previously, but still. A shower would be nice. I found a shirt and a pair of breeches on the floor and pulled them on. I sat on the bed to pull on my boots and Lily wrapped her arms around my waist and rested her head on my shoulder. “I wish you didn’t have to go. We should talk about this. Us.” I turned around and took Lily’s hands. “I know. We will. Come to the inn this evening, and we can talk about it then.” Lily nodded and smiled. I leant forward and kissed her. When we broke apart I whispered. 5

“Just know that I love you.” I was so happy as I left, I forgot for a second about jumping. About how a life can be destroyed in a matter of seconds. I was painfully reminded a few seconds later by a familiar tingling in my fingertips. “ No,” I whispered. But it was too late. I tried to run, back to my room, back to Lily, but before I could throw open the door, I felt a roaring in my ears and then silence.

I squeezed my eyes shut, tears already spilling out. Lily would never know. She would go to the inn tonight; Jack would tell her that I’d never turned up. She would assume that I’d used her, like I’d used all the others. That she had never meant anything. I needed to get back to her. And I knew there was only one way. The last resort. I clenched my fists and shouted aloud. “Better call maintenance.”

4. A Warning

There was once a girl who lived alone on a planet. It was not a very big planet, but she loved it because it was hers, and because of all its peculiar beauties: the birds that shrieked when the two suns rose in the morning, the trees with blood red trunks that surrounded her house, the sweet green water that she pulled up from the well in her garden. Even though she loved it, she was not happy. She would never forget how she had come to live on her planet and every day she spent waiting for her past to catch up with her. One day, she woke up to find a sealed envelope on her doorstep. The paper was the deepest blue, almost black, of the night sky, and covered with a fine layer of shimmering gold dust. She recognised it immediately and was filled with fear. She shut her door on the sunrise and bolted it from the inside. From under her bed she pulled a machine gun, covered in dust from years gone by. She aimed it, primed and ready, at the door. Only then did she sit back and open the letter:

They are coming. I donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t know how long you have, but I hope this time I have given you enough warning. I know you will try and fight them yourself, and maybe this time you will win, but please, I beg you, for your own safety, better call maintenance.

5. The Monsters at the End of the World

The room was in chaos. People were screaming, dying, all around me. I lay on the floor, motionless, hoping, praying, that I would be taken for dead. I was covered in blood, both red and black. The blood of the monsters. They had been human once, years ago, but now they were disfigured, grotesque. The figures of a nightmare you would never dare to dream. Their every instinct had been replaced by the need to butcher anything in their path. People had thought we were safe here, but I had known they would find us eventually. Now the last of us were going to die. The screams seemed distant now, the monsters were picking off the last of the living. I heard a rustling in front of me. I thought in that instant I was sure to die, but it was a man shuffling towards me, not a monster. Blood dripped from his nose and mouth and I cringed when I saw his lower half was missing. Slowly, he passed a piece of paper across the inches of floor between us. I just managed to grasp it in my outstretched fingers. I caught the manâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s eye and he smiled. By the time I opened the note, he was long dead. I had waited until I could hear only silence before I chanced sitting up. The note was scrawled in blood. It was difficult to make out, but I eventually made out three words that I hoped never to see:

better call maintenance

6. Shadows and Mages

“Did anyone follow you here?” the Shadow asked. I shook my head, drawing my cloak around me tighter. Wherever there was cold, death always followed. “Good,” replied the Shadow. “You have information?” I have been dealing with Shadows my entire life and they never reveal their faces. They say a Shadow would rather kill you than reveal its face. “The Mages are restless. Something is about to happen.” I tell them. “I stole a look in their stores, there’s one full of battle potions and spells and another full of dried meats and barrels of water. They’re preparing for something.” The Shadow paused before answering. “This doesn’t seem to be conclusive evidence that something is about to break. How do we know that they’re not just being forward thinking for once?” I shook my head again. “No. I know the Mages; I’ve been spying on them long enough. Those stores are never full, they spend too much time up in their ridiculous towers, experimenting on who knows what to worry about where their food comes from.” I pause. “There’s… a strange atmosphere as well. Everyone travels in groups, all of them keep to the curfew. They’ve been dealing with outsiders less and less, the only reason I’ve still got I job is because I’ve been there so long. They’re afraid.” It was the first time I’d said it aloud but I knew it was true. I realised at the same moment that I was afraid too.

The Shadow waited so long before speaking that I thought perhaps they had left. “Thank you. The Shadows appreciate your service to us. Instructions

will be sent to you directly.” “Instructions?” I asked. The Shadows hadn’t given me instructions since they’d planted me with the Mages. I waited for a reply, but this time I knew the Shadow had gone.

Three weeks later and we’re in the midst of a war like nothing we’ve ever seen. The Mages are under siege, but it is on the brink of breaking. I can hear screams and war cries from my rooms in the attic. I could get out if I wanted, I know the building better than any of the Mages, but I am waiting. A note is shoved under my door, in familiar black paper. The shouts outside are closer now, much closer. They are in the corridor outside my rooms. I pick up the note as the door is shoved open. I read it aloud to the strangers in the corridor. “Better call maintenance.”

7. Cats

There have always been cats on Dollhouse Terrace. I don’t walk up there often, normally it’s only when I need to use the station, but without fail there is always a cat, sometimes two, waiting to greet me. Occasionally, when it’s dark, they make me jump when they appear at my side seemingly out of nowhere. I always stop to pet them, cooing whilst they rub my legs and knock their heads against the palm of my hand. I only stop for a minute or so before carrying on my way. Every time, the cats follow me for a few steps, then stop and sit and watch me go. When I walk down Dollhouse Terrace this evening, I don’t see any cats until one runs right out in front of my path. I crouch down with a smile and begin to stroke it. Another cat appears at my elbow.

“Oh! Hello!” I coo at him, stroking him with my other hand. I hear a meowing behind me and glance over my shoulder. Two more cats have appeared, mewling desperately. I frown and stand up and they immediately begin to rub at my legs. There have never been this many cats on Dollhouse Terrace. I turn again and there are more behind me. My eyes widen as I see more and more cats. They run out of gardens, jump over walls. Hundreds of them. All of them meowing and meowing, clawing to get at me. I back against the wall. The cats follow me, more and more of them. Before I am overwhelmed, I manage to choke out three words. “Better call maintenance.”

8. Uncontrollable Powers

The sound of the letterbox clanging woke Alisha up, and she lay in bed for as long as she could bear before checking the post. It was a single white envelope, with the words FINAL WARNING stamped onto the front in red ink. She knelt on the floor in her dressing gown wringing the letter in her hands, she couldn’t even bring herself to open it. She knew what it would say. This was it then. She had thought she could cope while she had her flat, but this was really the end. First she lost her job and now she’d lost her home. She began to sob and found she couldn’t breathe. No. That was wrong. She’d had panic attacks before, but this felt different. Not like she was fighting for breath, like there was too much breath inside her fighting to get out. She reached for the doorknob to haul herself up off the floor, but as soon as she touched the metal of the handle, a bolt of electricity shot from her hand. Alisha was thrown backwards, and the door flew off its hinges out into the corridor.

What the fuck, thought Alisha. She picked herself up from the floor and gingerly walked to the doorway. Her door had shattered against the stairwell railing and lay in chunks on the floor. One of her neighbours stuck his head out his door. “What the hell was that?” He shouted. Alisha, too focused on the splinters that had once been her door, ignored him, and leant on the railing to see if any of it had fallen below. That was a mistake. The railing was connected the whole way from the bottom floor to the twentieth, and was made entirely of stainless steel. The lightening from Alisha’s touch filled the entire building, sending blinding sparks everywhere. The man screamed and slammed his door shut. Alisha stumbled back into her flat, but it was everything she touched was made of metal and sparks flew in her wake.

When the SAUP Unit found her, an hour later, Alisha was curled up in the centre of her living room. They thought she was unconscious at first, but her eyes were wide with terror. “It’s ok, Alisha,” one man said, reaching out a comforting hand. “Don’t come near me,” Alisha flinched. “I’m dangerous.” “It’s ok,” said the man, and he placed his hand on her shoulder, forgetting his wedding ring. The explosion of sparks threw the man away from Alisha, who let out a strangled sob and curled up tighter. The SAUP operatives huddled in the kitchen. “What do we do?” One agent asked. “We’ve got to bring her in.” “We could just shoot her,” another suggested. “That woman generates electricity and you want to stick a lump of metal in her?” The leader of the group asked. She stood and thought for a moment. The rest of the group went silent and waited for her to speak. “There’s only one way we’re going to get her out of here, and we’re not going to be able to do it alone.” She said finally. “Better call maintenance.”

9. Writer’s Block

The woman sat at her laptop, eyes tired and time passing slower than it had ever appeared to before. The document on her computer claimed she had written 2623 words, but it was not enough. She needed more. But the words wouldn’t come. She had started one sentence time and time again to no avail. It stayed in her head, stubbornly, and wouldn’t appear on the page for all her trying. The woman pushed hair out of her eyes again, and muttered to herself “Better call maintenance.”

10. A Girl in a Night club

Last night was mental. Absolutely fucking mental. Somehow I made it back home, from the faint light filtering in from under the blind I can see the mess of my room. I reach over and grab my phone from my bedside table. The brightness of the screen makes me squint, but I manage to make out the time. 10:07. Shit. I’m going to be late for work. I scramble out of bed and immediately regret moving so fast. My head is spinning and I feel like I’m going to vomit. I go to the bathroom and consider making myself throw up but I figure I don’t have time and grab my tooth brush. My reflection in the mirror looks like death but I don’t have time for a shower so I splash my face in the sink and hope that’ll do. Half the clothes in my wardrobe appear are on the floor, and I have to sift through dirty socks and alcohol stained shirts to find my work uniform. I grab a pair of sunglasses before I leave the flat, wheeling my bike out of the door. I pedal furiously, hopefully I won’t get too much of a bollocking for being late. Details of last night filter back in as I ride. I remember doing strange coloured shots with the lads, that burnt all the way down to my stomach. I remember a girl, her smile was wicked and her eyes… now that I think about them, I can’t get them out of my head. They’d seemed ordinary when I first saw her, but when she got closer I saw there was nothing ordinary about them. They’d seemed to entice me in, until there was nothing in my head but her. I remembered kissing her, how her hands had gripped the back of my neck. I thought I’d scored for sure, but then she broke away from me and smiled. The next thing I knew she had merged back into the surging crowd of dancer and I hadn’t seen her again for the rest of the night. When I got to work, Bill is waiting for me with a stupid grin on his face. “Alright mate? Thought you went out last night, didn’t expect you in today.”

“Shut up.” I mutter. Bill’s a friend of Mum’s; I’m lucky he gave me this job at his café. He’s an alright guy, but he can’t half be a knobhead sometimes. I turn around to hang my coat up when Bill lets out a bark of laughter. “Did you get a tattoo last night? Your Mum’s gonna go ballistic, mate.” “What?” I let out a strangled cry and touch the back of my neck. It hurts like a bitch when I poke it. I think about the girl from last night and run to the bathroom. Bill practically lives at the café, so the small toilet on the ground floor is well equipped with a shaving mirror and a full-length mirror. I crane to get a proper look at the back of my neck. It’s red and sore and there are three words printed onto it: Better Call Maintenance.

11. A Disobedient Shimmer

Delilah snuck into the ice cellar below her simple cottage, clutching the patterned box she had found in the woods. The cellar was shallow and small, but provided enough shelter from the outside world. Her hunting gear hung on hooks by the door, and she fetched some iron chains and traps. The stories always told of how a box like this one had to be protected, else the Shimmer inside it, capable of granting any wish, would escape. If that happened, your wishes would be taken away, and a force unimaginable would be brought upon you. Delilah wrapped a small chain around the sides of the box and fastened it to a nail in the ground. She held a trap, sharp teeth open, and carefully opened the lid. The Shimmer appeared in front of her, and took on its human form. It became a young woman with black eyes and sharp teeth, but before it could speak, Delilah snapped her trap shut on its leg. The Shimmer screamed in pain and blue blood spurted from its leg violently. Delilah winced but held the trap firm as it writhed in pain and fastened it to a hook on the wall. The Shimmer huddled there, hiding its face as Delilah spoke. “I believe you owe me a wish.”

“There will be consequences,” the Shimmer rasped. “I will suffer them without fear,” Delilah proclaimed. Behind its hands, the Shimmer smiled.

*** Years passed and Delilah prospered. She kept the Shimmer locked away in chains in a dungeon below the palace which now stood in place of her little cottage. Any time Delilah was in need she would visit the dungeon and her wish would be granted.

All was well until Delilah woke up one morning with no reflection. She looked down at her hands and they seemed to shift in and out of existence. They seemed to shimmer. Before anyone noticed, she ran down to her dungeon and faced the Shimmer. Its skin was pale from years kept in darkness, its leg covered in crusts of blue where the iron trap still held it in place. It looked up at Delilah and smiled. “What have you done to me!” Delilah cried. “I wish for you to reverse this curse you’ve placed on me.” “I can’t,” replied the Shimmer. “This is one wish I cannot grant.” “What can I do?” asked Delilah, tears dripping off her non-existent face. “There’s only one thing,” said the wish granter, grinning wildly in the darkness. “Better call maintenance.”

12. A List

A tall woman wearing a floppy hat that is pulled down low over her eyes stands on the street corner, handing out fluorescent orange flyers to passers-by. You don’t know why you take one, but you do. On the flyer is a list:

A pair of combat boots The sun A coffee mug A smile without teeth Teeth without a smile The unfathomable concept of your existence Dog poo Air A floppy disk A grass hillock Your first cigarette The letter ‘e’ A strong feeling of indignation A childhood memory A copy of Moby Dick, impossibly old A tall woman wearing a floppy hat that is pulled down low over her eyes standing on a street corner handing out fluorescent orange flyers to passers-by Upon reading the last line you look behind you, back at the woman. She is looking directly at you. She smiles, and motions for you to flip the flyer over. On the back of the flyer is a small note.

IF YOU HAVE SEEN ANY OF THE ABOVE WITHIN THE LAST 24 HOURS: BETTER CALL MAINTENANCE. 19

13. Losing a Friend

“How on Earth did you accidentally open a portal to another dimension?” Katrina asked, looking down at the swirling hole in my bedroom floor. “I’m not entirely sure to be honest,” I replied. “Although I’m 99% sure that it has something to do with this.”

I held up the book I had found in the loft three days ago. Katrina took it from me, turning the pages gently so as not to damage them. It was filled with some sort of ancient English that I could barely understand, expect for the two pages in the centre. “Why are these the only blank pages?” Katrina asked, holding the book up to me. “They weren’t when I first found it. There was some sort of spell about ‘creating a passage way’ or something there. When I woke up this morning, that was on the floor and those pages were blank.” I took a step towards the portal and peered into it. “What do you think would happen if we touched it?” I asked, reaching out my hand. “Don’t do that, Jonny!” I lurched backwards and saw Mum standing in my bedroom door, eyes wide. Katrina shut the book and looked down at the floor sheepishly. “Morning, Mrs Graham.” She muttered. “Jonny,” Mum said, not taking her eyes from the portal. “Where did you find that book?” “In the loft,” I replied, frowning. “Why, do you know what it is? Have you seen it before?” She shook her head suddenly, as if she needed to clear it. “That doesn’t matter now, Jonny. Come here and don’t look at that portal!” 20

“Ok! Ok!” I said, hurrying over. As I reached the door, there was a flash and a loud squelch. I looked back into my room. The portal was still there, spinning lazily, but Katrina was gone. “Did…did she?” I stammered. Mum pushed me out of the room and slammed the door shut. “Jonny, go downstairs right now.” “But Mum! What about Katrina? What are we going to do?”

Mum looked past me with a look in her eye that I had never seen before. It looked like she was afraid. “I suppose there’s nothing else for it.” She said. “Better call maintenance.”

14. Murders Downtown

JJoe clenched his teeth and stabbed himself in the stomach. No matter how many times he did this, he never got used to the pain. He grunted as he pulled out the knife and stabbed himself again. He dropped to the ground, writhing in pain but continued to stab himself until he lost his strength. The world faded and then he found himself looking down on his body with a familiar figure standing next to him. “Hello, Joe.” Death said, sounding exasperated. “Alright, mate,” said Joe, grinning. “How’ve you been?” “I’m not your ‘mate’,” said Death. “I am a solitary entity. With a job to do, that you keep on interrupting. Just because you’re immortal doesn’t mean you can kill yourself every time you want a word.” “Yeah, well I wouldn’t have to kill myself if you just gave me your phone number,” Joe argued. “Anyway, we haven’t got much time, I’ll heal myself in a minute.” Death sighed. “Fine. What’s wrong.” Joe ran his hands through his hair.

“There have been murders downtown. Like nothing we’ve ever seen before. Magical beings and Normals. All found drained of blood and with huge black holes where their eyes used to be. A djinn was found a few hours ago. That’s why I’m calling you.” Death said nothing, but listened intently. “Have you ever seen this before? What can we do?” Joe asked earnestly. He could see his body beginning to heal, knew he didn’t have much more time. “I’ve only seen something like this once before. If the same thing is

happening, you’re all in grave danger.” “Well, what did you do last time? How can we fix it?” Joe’s vision began to fade as his soul was transported back to his body. “There’s only one thing that can help you now,” Death said. “Better call maintenance.”

15. Whisperers

You sit in a concert. It is a small affair, not many people fit in the church venue. An elderly woman is performing a warbling number on the stage. A group of whisperers sit behind you, their hissing and sniggering digs into you as much as the pew you are sitting on. The man sitting beside you, who is too tall for his own good, leans over to you and hands you a business card. He gestures to the whisperers and says in your ear â&#x20AC;&#x153;Better call maintenance.â&#x20AC;?

16. A Child in Custody

VIDEO TRANSCRIPT 04/03/2197, 18:07 SUBJECT: May Cartwright INTERVIEWER: Peter Andrews

PETER ANDREWS: Miss Cartwright, you have been called into questioning under the Unnatural Abilities Act of 2190. Please state the nature of these abilities. MAY CARTWRIGHT: I can create universes. Somehow, I can think them into existence. Is that what you’re referring to, Agent?

PA: Precisely. Are you aware that by hiding your abilities for this long, we are entitled to prosecute you? MC: I am. PA: Are you prepared to give any rational explanation for hiding these powers? MC: Apart from the fact that I don’t want scumbags like you to use them for your ridiculous war? PA: Claims like that could get you prosecuted for treason, Miss Cartwright. MC: I’m already being prosecuted, Agent. I can be as treasonous as I like. PA: As it happens, Miss Cartwright, we are willing to overlook your previous transgressions against the state. All we ask of you is that you work for us, that you use your abilities for the good of the country. MC: Have you been listening? There’s no way you’re going to turn me into some monotonous drone that’s going to generate universes full of home grown missiles for you. I’d rather die.

PA: I’m sorry to hear that, Miss Cartwright. But I wonder if you might change your mind if I tell you that we have your daughter in custody as well? MC: You bastards. She’s just a child, she has nothing to do with this. Let her go! PA: I’m afraid we can’t do that, Miss Cartwright. We thought you might need an incentive. Accept our offer and your child won’t be harmed. MC: You have no idea what you’re dealing with. PA: Oh, I think we do. We’ve been dealing with your type for years. Just agree to our terms and everything will turn out fine. MC: You’ve left me no choice; I hope you realise that. What you don’t know about my ‘type’ is that we’ve got someone on our side. All it takes is three words, and I can bring your whole world down. PA: Oh, really? I doubt that very much, Miss Cartwright. I’m afraid we’ve backed you into a corner. MC: I warned you, Agent. Remember that. Better call maintenance.

END OF TRANSCRIPT

17. The Burning of the Library

The smoke hung so thick in the library that she could almost read words in it. Words from the thousands of scrolls and manuscripts that were being destroyed, as if they were screaming out a final cry for help. Tears ran down the girl’s face, not just from the smoke, but from torment. This library was her life. She loved it more than anything else and it was being razed to the ground. She would die with it, this martyr of words. But she found herself being yanked into an antechamber by an older scholar suddenly appearing from the flames. “What do you think you’re doing, child? You’re going to get yourself killed!” He said as he barricaded the door. She wanted to curl into a ball and weep for her library, but the touch of the smoke made it so that every sob came out as a fit of coughing. The scholar ignored her, searching frantically around the room for a way out. The only door was the one they had entered through, but the man seemed to be searching the walls, knocking and pressing on them at different points. “What are you doing?” asked the girl once she had stopped coughing. “These walls are old and full of secrets. There’s bound to be a passage here somewhere. Come on, help me look.” Smoke began to trickle under the door as the girl began knocking on the walls as the scholar had been. But they found nothing. The walls remained intact as the room heated up and smoke flowed in through every crevice. “There must be something!” cried the man. He stood in the centre of the room and stopped, feeling something under the rug. “Here, girl, help me!” Together they moved the heavy rug aside and found a trapdoor in the floor beneath it.

“How do we get it open?” asked the girl, for the trapdoor had no handle or bolt. There was an inscription carved into it that the girl could not understand. Her eyes were streaming from the smoke that filled the room and her head was spinning. “It’s a set of instructions,” said the scholar, concentrating on the writing. “In case of emergency, better call maintenance.”

18. No Toilet Roll

She was sure sheâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;d put a new roll in the bathroom, but as she looked around there was nothing. No nine-pack down the side of the toilet, no forgotten roll shoved unceremoniously in the cupboard. All she could see was a cardboard tube, with a single sheet of paper clinging on to it. She sighed as she sat on the cold toilet seat considering her options. She pulled out her phone and texted the number listed as her emergency contact:

Better call maintenance

19. The Unborn Baby Has Not Listened

“The unborn baby is listening,” chanted the Midwives. Rose stood still in the middle of their circle, holding the swell of her stomach protectively. “The unborn baby is listening,” the chant got louder, the Midwives moved around her, holding hands. Most women would kill for the chance to take part in a ceremony such as this, but Rose was hating every second. Her husband’s family had contacts with the High Midwife, and even though Rose attended services at the temple every week to bless her unborn child, her husband had decided it wasn’t enough. Now she was standing naked in a sacred chamber far below the temple itself. She couldn’t help being afraid. Afraid for herself, afraid for her child. This was her first, and so few babies survived past childbirth these days. Her husband would never forgive her if she lost it. That’s why she had agreed to go through with the ceremony. She prayed that her baby would hear the Midwives cries, that it would live. “The unborn baby is listening!” The chanting reached its climax and the Midwives were suddenly silent, faces turned to the heavens, arms outstretched. A splash of water fell from between Rose’s legs. The baby was coming. “Yes!” cried the High Midwife. “The baby has answered our prayers!”

“No!” said Rose, eyes widening with fear, clutching her stomach tighter. “It’s too early!” “The unborn baby has listened!” The rest of the Midwives called in unison. Rose trembled in fear as they began fetching equipment and medicines. Two of the Midwives grasped her arms. “Sit,” they commanded, helping her to the floor. Barely holding back sobs, she sat on the cold stone floor, legs spread wide. Her labour was long and painful. No one comforted her or held her hand as she screamed. The hours went by painfully. Too many hours. Rose

was reaching the last of her strength and still there was no baby. Her vision began fading and she had not been able to hold herself up for a long time. As she began to slip into unconsciousness, she thought she heard one of the Midwives mutter to another â&#x20AC;&#x153;Better call maintenance.â&#x20AC;?

20. A Voice at the End of a Disconnected Telephone

You wake to find yourself in a room with no doors, windows, or orifices of any kind. You cannot remember how you got here, the last thing you remember was walking past the abandoned call centre on your way home from work. You stand groggily, keeping your back pressed to the yellow wall. Opposite you a cord phone hangs down from the ceiling, where the end of the cord is held in place by a drawing pin. After a swift look around, you see that it is the only object in the room. You walk to the phone and press it to your ear. You expect to hear silence, if not a dial tone at least. What you do not expect to hear is the heavy breathing that comes from the ear piece. You drop the phone and scream for the first time. You pound on the walls and claw at the corners, screaming at whomever has trapped you here to let you go. You are not sure how much time passes, but your hands begin to bleed. Eventually, you turn back to the phone, which you have managed to ignore since you dropped it. You pick it up gingerly and hold it to your ear. There is a sharp intake of breath from the other end of the line, and whomever is there whispers three words into your ear. â&#x20AC;&#x153;Better call maintenance.â&#x20AC;?