Sorry, Right Number

I guess I was bored and curious- a dangerous combination. I had just had a long conversation with a friend while walking about our serene and peaceful community while much of the world was embroiled in mostly man made catastrophes. As we struggled with the meaning of life and good versus evil, we decided that there were no real answers, except to play the hand you’re dealt- with the goal to leave things better- whatever that may mean.

We also decided it’s probably true that only a tiny percentage of the population of humankind has ever had the time or luxury to ponder such philosophical depths. Most humans, like all other animals, are just concerned about surviving the day for another tomorrow. 

I was sitting in my recliner, sipping my iced tea and pondering our conversation when I thought it would be fun to call him and continue our discussion. I had some thoughts about Douglas Adams’ brilliant book “Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” in which after much soul searching and travels throughout the universe Arthur, the common man, finally found the meaning of life- “42”. Of course the mystery of life remains as the answer is beyond our understanding. We would have quite a laugh about that. 

The ring tone sounded strange- a loud humming tone, with a series of short and long intervals between each tone. Then I was greeted by “Yes, who is this”. “Your’re not Bob” I brilliantly deduced. He assured me he was not Bob. I apologized of course. On the second call, I got the same odd tones and the same guy answered. On the third try, the poor fellow was exasperated- “Please check your number and don’t call me again, I’m busy with sorting my groylinks”. 

I assumed he was a bit tipsy or maybe he was just being sarcastic. I went on- determined to find out how this mixup could occur. “I’m so sorry, but I have just one question”. He sighed- “OK”. I continued “Would you please tell me your number- maybe it’s close to mine”. He sighed again- “No, it’s not. My number is …” I dropped the phone as my heart raced and beads of sweat poured from my forehead. The stranger’s number was my exact phone number. 

I picked up my phone and begged him to not hang up. He was really annoyed now- “You made me inhale one of my groylinks- see what you’ve done”. I looked at my recent call history on my smartphone. The last three numbers I dialed were my own. I thought I had carefully dialed my friend’s number. I spoke with some indignation “How could they assign the same number to two people? After all, it’s 2023 and we have satellites to direct our calls all over the world”.

Now there was silence on his end. After about 20 seconds I asked “Are you still there?” …. After some further silence I continued- “Look, I would like to wrap up this mystery and I’m in kind of a rush. I have to pop out to Burger King for fast food. My wife and I are heading out early to catch “Dancing with the Stars”- you know, the tour they’re doing- it’s coming to the Barbara Mann Theater this weekend”. 

After another several seconds of silence he finally spoke. “What’s fast food? And why do you have to get fed by a king? Why do you have to go out at all when there are plenty of groylinks for everyone? And why do you have to go to the stars to dance? … And what’s 2023? Are you drunk? It’s 2149 as any third year trilibite knows”. 

I must have been out for an hour or so. My wife stared at me with a concerned, panicked look. She said “Don’t move. The ambulance is on the way”. At the hospital they did all kinds of tests- and finally the doctor told us I must have had some kind of fugue state caused by the stress of talking about the state of the world and my demise. He added with a chuckle- “It’s also natural to be terrified about the end of your life- after all you are 78 and you’re in overtime”. My wife nodded and I shrugged. 

I wonder though. Maybe the afterlife is just an endless loop of replays in different places and different times- but with the same number. I also wonder if groylinks are tasty.