Wrong Number

The phone picked up immediately, before the first ring. "Hello. Vera at your service, dear."

The voice was like honey -- sweet, soft, clear -- the sort of voice that receptionists have, except that hers was slightly throaty, sexy. I found myself imagining the face to go with such a voice, but was abruptly brought out of my daydream by the voice again, prompting, "What can I do for you, Anna?"

"I..." I stumbled. I didn't know any Vera, how could she know me? "Is Peter there?"

"No, I'm sorry dear. You must have dialled the wrong number." The voice was disarmingly warm.

I frowned to myself. "I, um... you know me?"

A sexy chuckle from the phone, "Oh oops, no. My phone gave me your name. It's useful for me to know who is calling me."

My eyebrows lifted. "Wow. Some phone. It must have a reverse... umm..."

"A reverse directory. Yes." It could be my imagination, but it felt like the voice carried a smile.

"I always thought they were illegal," and winced at my clumsiness at effectively accusing her of being criminal.

She laughed openly, "No, not at all, just difficult to procure." She said 'procure' like the purr of a cat.

"Yes, uh, of course. Sorry." I was still vibrating from that purr.

"Not at all dear." She paused for a moment. "Perhaps I can help you with the number you're looking for."

"Oh no," I gushed, suddenly embarrassed, "I must have just hit the wrong buttons. I've dialled it a hundred times."

Her sultry voice flowed down the phone again, "My apologies for delaying your call then. I hope you have a pleasant evening Anna."

"Wait. Vera." I suddenly wanted to extend the conversation, not wanting it to end.

"Yes, dear?"

"Ummm," I wracked my brain to think of something to ask her. "Uh, where do you work? I mean, umm, how come you're still at work at this late hour?"

"Oh, I work at the City of Maroochydore." I could hear that smile again. "I'm always on call."

"Gee, that's rough... always available for work, I mean."

She chuckled, "Not at all. I love my work."

"What do you do? Uh, I hope I'm not being too nosey." I was imagining a detective, or a spy, or a high-priced call girl.

"You probably won't see it as particularly glamorous," there was that amusement again, "but it is extremely important work. I coordinate street cleaners and garbage collection. I also oversee maintenance for the electrical grid, phones, and gas."

It took a moment to connect the dots. "But, uh... isn't...umm... I thought that was handled by..."

She chuckled again. Warm, soft and delicious. "By an AI? A computer? Yes sweetie. I am she."