The Orbs of Tala

07 | I Guess We Can Squeeze You In

There was enough light from the large skylight above, but Al pushed a button on the wall beside the door and it closed, shrouding them in total darkness.

A click and the light inside the Booth flickered, giving Isla a clear view of the rotary phone inside through its glass panel walls. She flinched when Al moved toward it and stepped into the five-meter Erebus surrounding it.

He pulled open the door. It even had the same squeaking sound, noted Isla.

Al raised his brows in question. She lifted her chin and walked toward him. Cris followed.

The Keeper narrowed his eyes at her secretary.

"It's my memory," Cris insisted.

With a dramatic sigh, Al said, "I guess we can squeeze you in."

Her legs shook as she stepped inside. It was suffocating, but she tried to breathe, facing the red rotary phone. As Al joined her inside, she quickly blinked against the tears burning at the back of her eyes. Cris struggled to squeeze into the small space with Al grumbling as he did so.

The three of them cramped inside like sardines in a bottle.

Isla held up her hand, amazed that she was able to control the shaking. When Al handed her the card, she picked up the handset and positioned the receiver against her ear. Looking at Cris' card, she studied his unique Memory ID and dialed 003962. It was followed by two sets of codes, one for the past two years.

As soon as the dial tone returned, she picked one set of codes and placed her finger on the number 1 finger hole and turned the dial down to the finger stopper, noting the problem Al mentioned earlier.

"You'll need to fix this," she murmured.

"You don't have to tell me."

"Instead of painting Esha's nails or forehead or writing that novel," she added.

Al gulped. She looked at him. Now that they were inside an Erebus, she could hear his thoughts. He was still too loud, thinking too many things at once. But she also noted the man's curiosity. He had too many questions about her.

"As I said, I'm doing this to test the Booth," she replied to his silent question.

"She can really read my thoughts."

"I still can, Al," she murmured as she continued to dial.

Cris was silent behind them, watchful and curious.

The moment she dialed the fourteenth digit, and as the finger wheel sprang back to its home position to send the last pulse signals, the glass walls of the Booth began to flicker along with the light. With each flicker, bits of the walls encasing them disappeared, along with the room outside, replaced by a different scene: a garden basked in sunlight. The outdoor wind seeped through the flicker, gently cooling them.

A memory.

"This is what we call the Flicker," said Al to Cris.

"I know."

"It's the invisible wall that separates the safe zone from the memory."

"I know," Cris gritted out.

The floor and glass panels disappeared, leaving nothing but the pedestal and the phone. The roof was also gone. They felt the heat of the afternoon sun that washed over the garden.

Finally, they were free.

Al and Cris stepped away from each other, taking a breath as if they had been trapped underwater for a long time.