Dial 0. [2003ish]

That has got to be one of the loneliest sounds that you can hear late at night- it is not harsh, and in our world of computers it is not even very impersonal, but still. Her voice is cutting something off; making a choice between these two commands; putting an end to whatever silent mournful reverie was in process. The busy signal at least leaves some romance of feeling because you are shown to be alone. But this is a voice, with no empathy in it.

"If you would like to make a call, please hang up and try again." This is not a suggestion. This is the policeman telling the homeless man on the corner to "move along, now." This is the woman in the go-cart issuing tickets to cars parked next to over-due parking meters. "If you need help, hang up and then dial the operator." If you are a special case, worthy of state assistance, then fill out this form and the psychiatrist will be with you in a short while. Thank you.

That has got to be one of the loneliest sounds that you can hear, after goodbye is spoken and the phone clicks ambiguously- no returning goodbye, and now there is no tone- is he still there? There was more you would have liked to say, comfort you would like to have offered, if only you knew how to do it. This is someone you have not seen for a long time, who needs an ear, and you offered one, or needed one yourself. But it is late. There is still no dial tone. The phone clicks- you lower it, thinking about the fact that your friend has shared his pain with you. It is late. He must have hung up. But still…

"If you would like to make a call, please hang up and try again. If you need help," -the phone is resting in its cradle. Your hand is still on it. The reverie is broken, the friend is gone, it is late and the loneliest sound is buzzing in your ear. Sit, for a moment, looking at the living hand still resting on the silent phone; then get up and walk away, through your cold house.

Who was that woman? How long ago did she record that? Was she an elementary school teacher, to have that kind of authority in her voice- calm and in control and impersonal and businesslike. Perhaps her name was Sharon; or maybe Eva. Perhaps she was recorded saying that after practicing the right inflection for a day or maybe 15 minutes, sometime in the 80's. Or in the 70's, or even in the 50's. How old is she now? Is she still alive, or is this recording of her voice the only part left? If she is dead, then what did her obituary say? Did anyone who knew her or read of her death realize who she was- that calm collector of other people's loose ends, sweeping them neatly out of the phone lines and into their own messy lives again, with a controlled smile? And if, one day, into some sorrow or confusion of her own, she heard her own voice speak, what did she think? -as she was reminded to move along, that there was no one on the other end, and that, unless the operator could help her, she ought to please hang up and try again.