Dull. Grey. It covered every inch of the walls, the floors, the posters that peeled at the corners, and a single text flickered across the digital screen.
CAN YOU SAVE ME?
With a heavy sigh, she leaned back in the swivel chair. It creaked under the well-worn use. The words continued to blink.
CAN YOU SAVE ME?
A bold black against a dull screen. Her gaze drifted toward the wall above her desk. Photos of happier times. The frames were licked with a thin film of dust. It smudged in many places, covering the smiles of friends, and her brother, linked arms together. How long had that been now? She coughed, rubbing a hand against her mouth as her gaze fell back on the screen.
SAVE ME
She blinked, not recalling having changed the wording, but it didn’t matter. Jemma pushed the power-off button. It hissed and sputtered, flickering to dark mode. Jemma placed her hand against her head, combing her fingers through her tangled hair.
I can’t do this anymore.
Something creaked inside her, a coldness spreading, creeping through her body. She was supposed to fight it, she knew, but it felt pointless. It always did. No matter how much she fought against it, it always came back.
A small tick tick tick clicked softly. Jemma dragged her head out of her arms. There was a clock bolted above the door frame of the room she hadn’t left in who knows how long.
She had another shift at 9:00. She pulled at her eyelids, heavy and stretched.
2:43 A.M.
She sat back in the chair, arms limp at her side, as she glanced once more up at the splattered pictures on her wall that needed cleaning. There was never time for that. Jemma almost reached out to touch the picture frame sitting closest to her on her desk when a phone buzzed. Her hand froze, hoping that it wasn’t what she thought it was. It continued to buzz. Reluctantly, Jemma reached for the cellphone and saw the caller ID.
MATT MUSTER
The Boss. At his hour?
Jemma slid her hand onto the desk, touching the phone as it vibrated, counting the number of times it would ring before she absolutely had to pick it up, hoping maybe he would end the call first if she left it long enough. He kept calling. Apparently, he wanted to talk. Jemma swiped the call across and put the phone to her ear.
“Hello?” Even she did not like the flatness in her voice
“Jem? Where are you?”
Jemma slowly blinked. Where any normal human would be at this hour. “Home.”
“Why aren’t you online?”
He was tracking that? Jemma’s forehead creased, and she rubbed her fingers against her temple as pressure built up. She continued to hold the phone against her ear. “I’m clocking out.”
“That isn’t in your contract.” His voice was cold, scaly.
That again? A pounding stretched across her skull, and she placed her fingers against her temple. “I’m pretty sure I finished the assignments.”
“You didn’t,” his voice was crisp, displeased.
Jemma tilted her head back, glancing at the clock. “Can’t…it be done tomorrow?” Her voice was weak, tired, almost desperate, and she hated that, but couldn’t Matt Muster see the time, the hour, the insanity of what he was asking?
“This needs to be done tonight,” he said. “Get back online and finish your job.”
Jemma took a quiet breath, staring at the black screen. There was static in her head.
“Jemma?” Muster barked. “Did you hear?”
“Yes, sir,” Jemma muttered, barely audible.
“Don’t make me call you again.” The phone clicked.
Jemma slowly lowered the phone from her ear and placed the cell back on the desk. Why was Muster up at this hour, anyway? Jemma’s vision was bleary. Her finger hovered over the power button, dreading bringing the computer back to life, dreading returning to that mindless machine with its endless tasks. Her gaze fell back on the picture frame where a slightly younger version of herself stood, eyes bright, full of laughter, and standing next to her was her older brother, gangly and tall, but laughing as much as she was. They had the same curly brown hair, except hers was longer. Both wore dark-rimmed glasses. It had been a long time since she’d seen Alric, and she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d sent him a text. Jemma reached for the photo and pushed a thumb against it, smudging the grease away.
Jemma glanced at her phone and scrolled through the contacts and slightly frowned, unable to find her brother’s number. She swore she had transferred it to her phone when her phone was upgraded for work. She groaned, rubbing her eyelids, and glanced back at the black screen, wondering what would happen if she broke her contract, just once? Her finger hovered over the power button, thinking through what excuse she could give Muster. A system crash?
Her phone buzzed.
She jumped. Guilt squeezed inside, and she hurriedly pressed the power button. The hum of the computer came back on. Maybe if Muster saw that she was back online, he would drop the call and leave her alone. The screen flickered, creating a dim light throughout the room. Jemma’s icon blinked back online.
The phone continued to buzz.
“Come on, Matt,” she muttered. “Just leave me alone.”
She ignored the phone, but it continued. She sighed. Maybe he was eager to repeat the details of the contract just in case she decided to quit. Jemma glanced at the number.
Unknown ID.
She frowned, staring hard. Was she this tired? She rubbed her eyes. It still read the same.
Unknown ID.
But everyone’s ID always came up. It was the law. It had to be a glitch. Jemma placed it down on the desk, moving to start entry data, but paused as the phone stopped buzzing. The screen went blank. Jemma exhaled, relieved. At least, it wasn’t Matt. The cellphone screen flashed back on. In the upper right corner, a small mail icon blinked. A voice memo? From an Unknown ID? Spambots calls were impossible with the new hybrid phones. Her fingers itched with curiosity, and she reached for the phone and keyed in a code to unlock the memo.
Hey, Jemma. It’d be nice if you picked up now and then.
Jemma bolted upright, pressing the phone against her ear, breath catching in her throat. Alric?
I think I’ve found a way out of this.
Jemma fumbled to look up the Caller ID.
Jem — the voice grew quiet. Crap. They’ve found me. They —
Gunshots fired. The voicemail ended with a series of cute beeps. Jemma couldn’t breathe and stared at the phone. With sweaty fingers, she scrolled through the last number she called and redialed it. It rang. And rang.
“Pick up, Alric. Pick up,” she whispered. It went to automail. She dialed the number again. She held her breath. The phone was picked up. Her heart fluttered. “Alric?”
“Jemma why are you calling me?” It was Matt Muster. “I see you’re online, but you’re not working. Is there a problem?”
Jemma’s mouth went dry as sandpaper. She swallowed, then looked at the number she had called. It was Matt’s. Where was the Unknown ID? She was certain she had dialed it. She scrolled through the contacts. It wasn’t there anymore.
“Jemma?” Matt Muster barked, jolting her, but her mind refused to cooperate. Alric. Gunshots. She rechecked for the automail, so she could replay it. It was as if it never existed.
“Matt,” Jemma croaked, voice trembling.
“What?” he demanded.
“My brother, Alric. He’s in trouble.”
“What are you talking about?” Matt sounded exasperated. “Is this a joke?”
Why would she joke about this? Jemma’s gaze locked onto the picture frame of her and Alric. “He just called me.”
“No one can reach you during work hours.”
Except he had. “He’s in trouble,” Jemma repeated, glancing at the clock. Time was ticking. “There were gunshots.” Her fingers shook as the sound replayed in her head.
There was a long pause. “Did you call the police?”
“I…” Jemma’s throat closed. “I…I don’t know where he lives.” She and her brother had moved so many times because of work, and she had lost track of where he currently was.
“Hold on,” Matt said. There was a scratching noise. “Jem?”
“Yeah?” Jemma could barely respond. The clock ticked. The computer hummed. The static buzzed in her head. Where was Alric?
“I’ll call and file a report for you,” Matt said. “Are you sure you heard gunshots?”
She couldn’t answer as she stared back at the picture. Alric smiled broadly, with an arm slung over her shoulder.
“Someone will come to your apartment soon, Jem,” Matt said. “Don’t worry, we’ll get this sorted out.”
Jemma still didn’t answer; a knot formed in the pit of her stomach.
“And I want you to take the rest of the night off. Someone will cover your work.”
As if she’d have been able to continue after this. Another long pause.
“Jem?”
She didn’t want to answer. “Yeah?”
“You are a valuable member of this team. I’ll make sure this gets taken care of.”
Jemma didn’t know what to say.
“Though I’m giving you the rest of the night off, please be back for your next shift. There’s no use worrying about what you can’t fix.”
Jemma didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Alric was in trouble, and though Matt was right that she couldn’t do anything about it, she didn’t want to return to work.
Matt spoke. “See you tomorrow, then.”
The phone clicked. It wasn’t a request. She’d have to show up or break the contract. One didn’t do that with Matt Muster. She knew what happened to those who did.
A numbness filled her as her gaze remained fixed on the photo, wondering why she hadn’t thought to keep up with her brother. Jemma hoped the police would be able to trace Alric and find him, even if she could not.
Gettin' Real 