I got the first text on a Monday night. I’d fallen asleep watching some random show I didn’t really care about, that I really only had on for background noise so I could fall asleep, when my phone suddenly dinged with a text message. Grimacing, I fumbled around on the sofa until I found my phone and unlocked the screen.
Do you see me?
I stared at the text, my groggy brain caught between annoyance and mild interest. The number wasn’t someone I had in my contacts or recognized, so I figured it was either a mistext or a scam. Normally I would have just deleted it, but I was just sleepy enough to not be thinking entirely straight. Instead of ignoring the message or erasing it, I typed a one word response:
Nope.
I didn’t think about the message until I looked at my phone the next morning. Brushing my teeth, I rolled my eyes at how dumb I’d been. I was probably on the radar of some phishing dick now and I could look forward to getting bombarded with more messages until I blocked all their numbers. But maybe it really had just been an honest mistake. Somebody meeting a friend that hit a 7 when they meant to hit a 4. Hopefully they found who they were looking for and left me out of it.
I was leaving a meeting that afternoon when my phone buzzed in my pocket.
Do you see me?
Anger flushed my face as I stabbed the delete icon on the screen. Fuckers. I knew it would be something like that. Stuffing my phone back in my pocket, I went back to my office. Twenty minutes later, my phone buzzed again.
Do you see me?
Cursing under my breath, I pulled up the menu to block the number and then deleted the message again. Five minutes later, I got a new text with the same question. I couldn’t say for sure if it was the same number or not, but either way I was getting pissed off.
No, I don’t see you. Leave me alone or I’m going to report you to the authorities.
I wasn’t sure who “the authorities” were in this case. These texts could be coming from a computer halfway around the world for all I knew. Or it could be some creeper down the hall. Either way, I hoped my hollow threat would be the end of it.
I didn’t get any other messages that afternoon or on the way home, though the thought of it preoccupied me most of the time. I kept checking my phone at every phantom buzz and when I went into the store to pick up a few things, I found myself paying closer attention to everyone around me. The couple of times I saw someone looking in my direction, I felt a small thrill of fear before reminding myself that I was being stupid. It was just a scam or prank, that was all. Stuff like that happens to people all the time nowadays.
Do you see me?
I’d left my phone in the bedroom when I got home, forcing myself to not check it until I got ready for bed. When I picked it up and saw the new text, I had to fight the urge to throw it against the wall. No, I was letting it get to me too much. Just block the number again, and keep blocking it. If that didn’t work after a couple of more days, I’d call the phone company.
Three days later, I called them. After an hour on the phone, they claimed they couldn’t find any record of the now twenty harassing text messages I’d claimed to receive, nor any requests to block numbers from me in the past thirty days. When I asked if they were calling me a liar, the guy just laughed and said no. Told me that maybe my phone had gotten hacked somehow, but that for further help I’d need to bring it into a store location. He was still rambling from his script when I hung up. Just then, my phone buzzed.
Do you see me?
I did throw my phone now, feeling some satisfaction as I heard it crunch against the far wall of the living room and watched it bounce off behind the sofa. I was done with that phone and that carrier. Fuck them. I’d go get a new phone tomorrow and start fresh.
The idea of a clean slate with a new number and phone calmed me, and as I calmed down, I started feeling guilty for throwing the phone in the first place. I could have gotten my old stuff off of it and sold the phone to help pay for the new one. Now it might be busted to hell, and it looked like I left a big mark on the wallpaper. It was overly busy with birds and flowers, and I’d thought of replacing it since buying the house two years earlier, but I still didn’t need to be losing my…
My breath caught as I saw motion on the far wall. Two feet up and a few feet over from where I’d scuffed the wallpaper, I saw something shining from within the dark red breast of a swooping pheasant. Two somethings actually. Heart thudding, I stood up and stepped forward for a closer look.
It was a pair of eyes.
Staring out at me from behind the wall, glistening with tears the eyes met mine with a kind of desperate pleading as my phone buzzed again.
Do you see me?
I was shaking as I met the eyes again and gave a small nod. The floor creaked behind me and then a rag was on my face as I was pulled backward to the floor. No, I had to get away, I had to find a way to…
I woke up in a cocoon, my body trapped in a tight-fitting sheathe of foam that allowed just enough room to breathe in and out through my nose. My mouth was sealed tight with…something, and I didn’t have enough space to even try and force my mouth open to breathe or scream. It felt like I was in a standing position, body supported by my sound-proof prison and posed with my right arm positioned upward so my hand was just within my peripheral vision.
So I could see the cell phone that had been glued there.
The phone’s screen was very dim, but it was still visible in the dark. Only two icons appeared on the screen. One said “Text”. The other said “Journal”. I hit the journal button first.
Welcome to Journal. Here you can record your thoughts or account. It will be periodically saved to the cloud and the phone is wired to stay charged, so no need to worry that your work will be lost. Feel free to use this feature at your leisure while you are able.
Tears began to form at the corners of my eyes as I reread the message. Who was doing this? What were they going to do to me? Where was I?
As though in response to the last question, a flare of light suddenly bloomed in my vision. Squinting, I slowly began to make out what I was seeing through a small pair of holes in front of my face. I hadn’t even known they were there in the dark, but now I could make out…
It was someone’s living room.
As I watched, a young woman came in from the left with a drink in her hand, settling down onto the sofa to watch television as I stared at her pleadingly. She didn’t notice me. Didn’t seem to notice that anything was wrong at all. I tried to squeal through my sealed lips, tried to thrash in my foam coffin, but it did no good. I was soundproofed too well, with even the eyeholes having some kind of plastic lenses to prevent any noise from escaping. All I could do was stare at her, willing her to look in my direction, begging her to notice…
The phone. Shifting my eyes back to its screen, I hit the back button and went to “Text”.
Welcome to Text. A variable refresh timer is in place to prevent unsightly text spamming, but otherwise, enjoy!
Maybe I could call 911 or Mike or…But no. The text screen only had one option. One message to be sent to a fixed contact that I couldn’t change. Sobbing, I hit send.
Out in the living room, the girl’s phone buzzed. Picking it up, she studied the screen a moment before sitting it back down with a frown. I didn’t blame her. I knew what she’d seen.
A message sent from a person she didn’t know and a phone she didn’t recognize—the same phone that was stuck in my hand. Just a single line of text that meant nothing to her and everything to me.
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