Status: Active
Untitled
I
It was a four-note harmony that pulled me out of my late-night stupor— the ominous introduction to Beethoven’s 5th. I sprung from my chair and flipped my mattress over, heart racing. The memories attacked in flashes while my hands worked robotically, reaching for a knife I kept behind a photo replica of a Vermeer, slicing open my mattress and systematically searching for the ringing device.
I recalled the two of us, two years ago in this very spot. He had held my black pager above my head and we were reduced to giggling fits as he changed the ringtone from Tarzan, Strangers Like Me to Rihanna, SOS. It was a program he’d created before his trip here—a hacking device that connected the pager to his iPod library wirelessly. He claimed whenever I was being summoned, he wanted me to know it was him, so when the pager went off, we would be hearing identical verses, no matter where we were in the world. He’d gripped the pager, and he’d let it clang to the floor when a slow Lifehouse number had come on, pulled me closer— had kissed me, right here— and we’d danced.
I nearly jumped when my finger brushed the surface of the black pager. It was chunky, conspicuous and bigger than I remembered. Keeping it down at my hip, I snapped the blinds down, took a final scan of the room before turning it thrice in hand. The organs’ wailing stopped as the last whine of classical music was drained from the air. I held the box up to my ear to feel the humming as its gears began to turn.
The message began to play, monotonous, female. I didn’t grab a pen or paper, but a part of me that had been kept distanced and steeled listened, attentively. The rest of me was simply frozen, as though my head was under water, remembering every single moment we’d ever spent together. The black box was speaking about a hotel, a team of four, a distraction, a ventilation system, an elevator— it was giving me the plan. All in code I hadn’t listened to in ages, yet was still able to decipher. Like a native returning to her hometown and for the first time noticing the jungle of idioms in everyday speech.
Do you accept? At the box’s final word, the strong division of me forced my lips to whisper, “Yes.” The turning gears stopped. Something inside of it clicked; it powered down. And I was left alone in a room with a useless contraption, an extensive period of silence, and a promise I’d just made to complete my next mission. My first one in seventeen months.
I recalled the two of us, two years ago in this very spot. He had held my black pager above my head and we were reduced to giggling fits as he changed the ringtone from Tarzan, Strangers Like Me to Rihanna, SOS. It was a program he’d created before his trip here—a hacking device that connected the pager to his iPod library wirelessly. He claimed whenever I was being summoned, he wanted me to know it was him, so when the pager went off, we would be hearing identical verses, no matter where we were in the world. He’d gripped the pager, and he’d let it clang to the floor when a slow Lifehouse number had come on, pulled me closer— had kissed me, right here— and we’d danced.
I nearly jumped when my finger brushed the surface of the black pager. It was chunky, conspicuous and bigger than I remembered. Keeping it down at my hip, I snapped the blinds down, took a final scan of the room before turning it thrice in hand. The organs’ wailing stopped as the last whine of classical music was drained from the air. I held the box up to my ear to feel the humming as its gears began to turn.
The message began to play, monotonous, female. I didn’t grab a pen or paper, but a part of me that had been kept distanced and steeled listened, attentively. The rest of me was simply frozen, as though my head was under water, remembering every single moment we’d ever spent together. The black box was speaking about a hotel, a team of four, a distraction, a ventilation system, an elevator— it was giving me the plan. All in code I hadn’t listened to in ages, yet was still able to decipher. Like a native returning to her hometown and for the first time noticing the jungle of idioms in everyday speech.
Do you accept? At the box’s final word, the strong division of me forced my lips to whisper, “Yes.” The turning gears stopped. Something inside of it clicked; it powered down. And I was left alone in a room with a useless contraption, an extensive period of silence, and a promise I’d just made to complete my next mission. My first one in seventeen months.
♠ ♠ ♠
Just started this in late February over break- let me know if I should continue!