Version Control
Elizabeth clicked her headset into place. The fluorescent hum of the dispatch center filled the cubicle. Her hands hovered over the keyboard. The cursor blinked in the empty notes field.
“911, what is your emergency?” she said calmly.
Heavy breathing answered. Female. She froze.
“Ma’am, I need you to speak.”
“Elizabeth,” a voice rasped.
Her fingers hovered. The cursor blinked.
“You hate when they call you Beth.”
Elizabeth typed slowly into the dispatch log:
Caller Name: Beth?
Caller ID: UNKNOWN
Pause. Cursor blinking.
“This line is for emergencies.”
“There is one.”
Priority: HIGH
Nature of Emergency: UNK
“Where are you located?”
“Third station from the window. Night shift. You always take nights.”
She peered down the row of cubicles, empty at this late hour, then typed:
Caller reports Location: Station 406 Dispatch cubicle, third station from window. No visual confirmation.
“You have the crystal butterfly on your desk. Bottom right corner. There used to be two. Rodney broke one. You said it was fine. It was not.”
Elizabeth’s gaze fell on the tiny crystal butterfly, sitting at the corner of her desk. She glanced around, nervous for the first time. Her fingers hesitated over the keyboard.
Desk Objects: Crystal butterfly, single
History: Two, one broken by Rodney
Notes: Caller knows intimate details
“Who is this?” she whispered.
Silence.
“I am Version Two,” the voice said.
“Version two of what?”
No answer. Hands hovered. She typed, stopped, backspaced.
Version two of…?
“In twenty seconds, a call will come in,” the voice said.
Elizabeth checked the screen clock. 11:42:10.
“Do not answer it.”
“Why not?”
“Because I am what happens if you do.”
Her mouth opened. No words. Fingers trembled. She typed one last line:
Notes: Caller warns DO NOT ANSWER THE NEXT CALL
Incoming call alert: blinking
A moment passed, then a new line flashed in the queue.
INCOMING CALL.
Soft alert tone. Her finger hovered over the mouse.
“You know what you need to do,” the voice said.
The cursor blinked. The butterfly sat in the corner, quietly waiting. Her hand frozen, floating.
The screen went black before she moved.
Ringing continued for three seconds. Then silence.