Static Identity

(Didn’t catch the backstory? Start here: https://rowanmercer.substack.com/p/witness-r-mercer)

Sometimes the world glitches so softly you almost miss it in the noise.

The call I’d just made hadn’t been to the police as I’d promised Amy. I’d left our workspace and stepped out onto the fire escape because it felt like the kind of thing you should do before dialing a number held up by a terrified-looking child on a moving school bus.

Like stepping outside would make it less weird. Less… intimate?

But now my hands were shaking and the wind had a stinging chill that my sweatshirt couldn’t counter. The laughter of children accompanied by sharp static bursts was nothing I’d heard before and the whole call just felt wrong. Like the laughter didn’t belong with the message. Like they were pieces from two different calls spliced together.

I tapped my phone. The call lasted 14 seconds, but it felt longer. For a second, I swear, it kept going even after the screen went dark, like it had burned itself into my hearing.

I waited for the quiet to settle, then let out the breath I’d been clenching.

“Okay,” I muttered. “Great. That was… great. Totally normal. Perfectly fine.

I slipped the phone into my sweatshirt pocket and headed back in.

Amy sat where I left her, at her desk, earbuds secure, typing and tuned out. I exhaled slowly and stepped softly to my own desk. Taking my seat, I wiggled the mouse. The monitor flared to life.

“Hey.” Amy turned toward me, plucking one earbud out and setting it on her desk. “What did they say?”

I froze. What was I supposed to do next? Tell her I called the number instead of the police? Tell her I called even though I didn’t?

“Ames..” I said, my voice trailing off. My brain scrambled for a version of the truth that didn’t make me sound unhinged.

Amy raised one eyebrow expectantly.

I sighed.

Her brow dropped to a furrow.

“Fine.” I said, rolling my eyes. “ I didn’t call the police– but, I did call the number I saw on the paper.”

Amy shook her head, matching my eye roll with her own.

“Look, it was the strangest phone call I’ve ever had. I dialed the number, and instead of anything normal, I got this creepy recording with kids laughing in the background and a whole bunch of static. Like, brain melting static.”

Amy sat back in her chair and folded her arms. One eye brow had crept back up.

“Brain melting?”

“I knew it!” I said, smiling. “You don’t believe me.”

“I mean, yes– “ Amy paused, sitting forward. “But no. You probably dialed a fax machine.”

I snorted. “So, you’re saying a young kid on a bus was holding up a fax number?”

Amy smiled and threw a wad of paper at me. “Ok, whatever, then yes. Maybe, or you dialed wrong.”

“No way.” I said, shaking my head. “You call, and tell me what you hear.”

I tossed my phone into her lap.

“Fine” she said, tossing the phone back. “But unlock it first.”

“Fine.” I said.

All I needed was a witness to this insanity to make me feel a little less like I was losing my mind.

I jabbed at the screen and muttered “You’ll see, I…”

But instead of the number from the bus, the last call was somehow a number with a local area code. My stomach dropped in a slow, sinking warmth under my ribs.

“This can’t be right.” I said, frustration creeping into my tone. “It’s not here. It’s been replaced with this other number.”

Amy’s expression had shifted from skeptical amusement, to flat out concern. I held the phone up to face her. “See this?” I said, pointing to the number. “This isn’t the number the kid had.”

My hand had begun to shake again. I could feel the mild amusement of the moment wearing off and being replaced by a growing frustration that Amy could be right.

“Ok, maybe I misdialed.” I said. “Or maybe it was a fax machine or whatever. But that doesn’t explain why this number isn’t even close to what the kid was holding.”

“Give me that,” Amy muttered, plucking the phone from my hands before I could object. Deftly, she swiped the screen and tapped the last number dialed.

Good. She needs to see that I’m not crazy.

Amy held the phone out between us as if she was serving dessert.

One ring.

My mouth was suddenly dry. Any second now and-

A second ring.

My stomach lurched and suddenly the noise around me seemed compressed and tinny.

“See?” Amy said, her face relaxing. “Normal phone. Probably a wrong– “

“Greywell Police, Officer Hale.” A female voice rang clearly through the phone.

My jaw fell open. I gasped.

“Oh, uh, I’m sorry, I– this isn’t– “ Amy stammered.

“Ms. Mercer?” asked the voice. “ Rowan Mercer, is that you?”