by Miranda Chen
[BLANK] is the screen. N-O C-O-N-N-E-C-T-I-O-N.
What in the name of the lord? One-thousand-two-hundred-thirty-four,
written in jumping letters that taunt me.
Pick up the phone and dial the number, it rings—hold the line
While listening to the digital hum of music.
HM HM HMM
4
3
1
1
0
?
4
3
1
1
0
?
[PK BEGIN]
“Hello?”
Hello. What’s the problem?
“Please restore my data.”
Sure thing. I’ll just have to direct you to Department 101—please hold the line.
HM HM HMM
“Hello?”
Hello. What’s the problem?
“Please restore my data.”
Sure thing. I’ll just have to direct you to Department 102—please hold the line.
[TIME OUT]
HM HM HMM
A game of ping pong?
“Hello?”
Hello. What’s the problem?
“I did not subscribe. Please unsubscribe me.”
Sure thing. I’ll just have to direct you to Department 103—please hold the line.
DU DU DUU
“Can anybody help me?”
“Help me.”
“Help me…”
MIRANDA CHEN is a final year English undergraduate student at the University of Toronto. She’s always had an affinity for wordsmithing and storytelling, and hopes to find herself in the process of writing.