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Midnight Call
墨書 Inktalez
In the gap between the digital and the real, an ordinary 114 operator unexpectedly becomes a bridge connecting two worlds. When she receives a distress call from the number "Nonexistent", a thrilling adventure spanning reality and the virtual realm begins.
From abandoned phone booths to secret underground laboratories, from the digital Digital Consciousness Prison to the core of the Quantum Computer, she continuously uncovers astonishing secrets hidden behind the telephone lines. This is a story about humanity, freedom, and redemption, as well as a perilous journey across the boundaries of reality and the virtual world. When the gates to the Digital World are opened, who can distinguish whether the voice on the other end of the line comes from reality or another unknown dimension?
I am an ordinary operator working at the 114 directory service. This job is monotonous and tedious, repeating the same dialogues every day, until that fateful night’s Incoming Call.
“Hello, this is 114 directory service. What number would you like to inquire about?” I mechanically recited my opening line.
On the other end of the line came a crackling noise, reminiscent of static from an old radio tuning in. After a few seconds, a woman’s voice emerged, faint as if coming from far away: “I want to check an address…”
“What address would you like to inquire about?” I picked up my pen, ready to take notes.
“Xiangyang Road... number 44...” Her voice was intermittent. “I need to find... my daughter...”
I quickly entered the address into the system but found it to be a Nonexistent address. Xiangyang Road only went up to number 43; beyond that lay barren land.
“I’m sorry, this address is Nonexistent. Did you perhaps remember it incorrectly?” I asked.
Suddenly, there was a piercing noise on the line, and her voice turned sharp: “Impossible! My daughter is right there! She waits for me there every day!”
I instinctively pulled the receiver away from my ear: “Ma’am, please calm down. Could you confirm the address again?”
“My daughter... she’s wearing a red dress...” The woman’s voice became ethereal. “That day... I told her to wait by the road... I went to buy ice cream... when I came back...”
My heart raced, and my fingers trembled involuntarily. This description was too vivid in my mind; it was not just any case—it was that infamous missing person case from Fifteen Years Ago. A five-year-old girl had gone missing on Xiangyang Road, last seen wearing a red dress. The police had searched for an entire month but found no clues.
“Ma’am, you...” I began to speak when suddenly there was a scream on the line followed by the sound of something heavy falling.
“Ma’am? Are you okay?” I asked urgently.
All that remained was static on the line; after a few seconds, a child’s voice came through: “Mom… have you finally come to find me…?”
I jumped up abruptly, my chair scraping loudly against the floor. The child’s voice continued: “I’ve been waiting for you… it’s so cold here…”
The call suddenly disconnected.
Shaking, I pulled up the call log only to find no record of this call in the system. The duty roster indicated that my colleague Xiao Li should have been on duty at that time, but she had taken sick leave unexpectedly.
The next day, filled with questions, I went to Xiangyang Road. Beyond number 43 was indeed barren land overgrown with weeds. However, behind some bushes, I discovered a rusty sign barely legible with “Number 44” etched on it.
What shocked me even more was that deep within the wasteland, I found an abandoned dry well. The opening was covered with wooden planks that had rotted away. Gathering my courage, I shone my flashlight down into the well's depths and saw a flash of bright red—a small red dress caked in dirt.
The police later found the remains of the missing girl at the bottom of that well after fifteen years. Investigations revealed that she had accidentally fallen into this abandoned well all those years ago. As for that mysterious Incoming Call, it remains unexplained.
But I will never forget what I heard just before hanging up: “Thank you, Sister... I can finally go home now...”
Since that eerie Incoming Call, my life has undergone subtle changes. Whenever night falls silent, I can feel an intangible chill as if someone is watching me. When the phone rings, my heart tightens involuntarily.
On a rainy night a month later, I was working night shift. Raindrops pelted against the glass outside like countless tiny fingers tapping away. At two in the morning, the phone rang again.
“Hello, this is 114 directory service…” My voice trembled slightly.
“Help... help me...” A man’s voice came through, accompanied by heavy breathing. “I’m at... at...”
The phone suddenly disconnected. I stood frozen in place, my palms already slick with cold sweat. That voice, that scene, was too reminiscent of a month ago. I quickly pulled up the call log, and sure enough, there were no records in the system.
The next day, I used the internal system to trace the approximate area of the Incoming Call—the Old Industrial District in the west of the city. Once the most prosperous part of town, it now lay in ruins, filled with abandoned factories and dilapidated residential buildings.
I took a day off and ventured alone into that area. The air after the rain was thick with the scent of rust and mildew, and the streets were deserted. I stopped in front of a residential building marked for demolition. In the water pooling at its base floated a yellowed photograph.
In the picture stood a young man in front of a carousel at an amusement park, smiling brightly. On the back of the photo was a handwritten note: "Always remember this day, August 15, 2005."
My heart skipped a beat. August 15, 2005, was the day of the catastrophic fire at the amusement park. The blaze claimed 23 lives, including that of a heroic Young Security Guard. I recalled from news reports that he had rushed into the flames to save a trapped little girl but never emerged.
I looked up at the residential building before me when suddenly a window on the third floor creaked open. The curtains fluttered in the wind, and I could vaguely see a picture frame on the windowsill—it held the very photograph I was clutching.
"Is anyone there?" I called out bravely.
There was no response. I stepped into the hallway; the decaying wooden floor creaked painfully underfoot. The door to the third floor was ajar, and as I gently pushed it open, a cloud of dust enveloped me.
The room's furnishings were preserved from over a decade ago; on the coffee table lay an old newspaper, its front page prominently featuring reports of that fire. The Young Security Guard in the photo was indeed the man from my own picture.
Suddenly, footsteps echoed behind me. I spun around but saw nothing. Yet, an acrid smell filled the air, and the temperature seemed to rise sharply. A man's voice whispered in my ear: "Help me... find her..."
I stumbled out of the room and nearly collided with an elderly woman at the stairwell. She was one of the last residents of this building.
"Do you know anyone who lived here?" I gasped.
A flicker of sadness crossed her murky eyes. "That would be Xiao Zhang—a good kid. He was supposed to be off that day but ran to help when he heard about the fire..."
"Do you know who that little girl he saved was?"
She shook her head. "After she was rescued, she was transferred to another hospital; no one knows what happened to her afterward. Xiao Zhang's parents have been searching for her to thank her in person, but sadly..."
Back at my workplace, I began reviewing news articles and hospital records from that year. After several days of searching, I finally tracked down that little girl—she was now a kindergarten teacher.
When I found her and shared everything with her, she broke down in tears. It turned out she had been searching for her savior's family all these years but had found no leads.
Together we visited Xiao Zhang's grave. Standing before it, I felt as if I could hear that voice again—but this time it said: "Thank you..."
Afterward, it seemed as though I had become this city's Supernatural Operator.
Days passed by as I gradually adapted to this unusual life. By day, I was an ordinary 114 operator; by night, I became a bridge connecting two realms. Until that rainy night when one phone call changed everything.
"Hello, this is 114 Directory Assistance..." I recited my usual opening line mechanically when suddenly I froze.
On the other end came a familiar voice—my own voice: "Help me... I'm at..."
The voice abruptly cut off, sending chills down my spine. This couldn't be happening; I was right here answering calls—how could I be calling myself? Trembling, I checked my call log again; there were still no records in the system.
The next day, I submitted an application to investigate this bizarre Incoming Call personally. Following its displayed location led me to an old residential area on the outskirts of town. Most buildings here dated back to the 1980s and were covered in climbing ivy.
I stopped in front of a red-brick building where a faded missing person notice was taped to a mailbox. The girl in the photo looked to be in her twenties with a bright smile. As I read through it carefully, dizziness washed over me—I realized that girl looked exactly like me.
What shocked me even more was that she had gone missing exactly Fifteen Years Ago today.
Suppressing my fear, I knocked on the door downstairs. An elderly woman opened it; her eyes widened upon seeing me: "Xiao... Xiao Yun?"
"Auntie, you've mistaken me for someone else; I'm..."
"No! You are Xiao Yun!" She grasped my hand excitedly. "Where have you been for these fifteen years? Your parents have been searching for you desperately!"
I felt as if my world were spinning out of control. Fifteen Years Ago, I had indeed fallen gravely ill and lost part of my memory upon waking up afterward. Could it be...?
The elderly woman led me up to a room on the third floor. As she opened the door, it felt like stepping through time itself. The room's decor was so familiar; on the walls hung photographs depicting my life from childhood onward.
"This is impossible..." I murmured to myself.
"That night, you said you were going to the library and never came back," the old lady wiped her tears. "Your parents reported it to the police and searched the whole city, but you just vanished..."
I trembled as I opened the diary on my desk. The date on the last page was marked "Fifteen Years Ago," and it read: "I must uncover the secret of that number tonight..."
Suddenly, the old lady struck me on the head from behind. Ouch, that hurt. "Auntie, what are you doing?..."
"Wake up..."
Before I could respond, a sharp pain exploded in my head, and I vaguely pieced together some memories. On that rainy night, fifteen years ago, I received a phone call. The caller gave me an address, and unable to suppress my curiosity, I went there alone. It was at that place that I encountered an accident and lost part of my memory.
So, what I had been searching for all along was myself?
I stumbled out of the room and rushed to the site of the incident. It was an abandoned phone booth, its glass covered in cracks. I pushed open the creaking door; the telephone inside was coated in dust.
Suddenly, the phone rang. My hands shook as I picked up the receiver, and a voice came through—my own voice from fifteen years ago: "Run! He's coming!"
I spun around and saw a shadow standing outside the phone booth. It was a man in a black trench coat, wearing a strange smile. I remembered him; he had attacked me here fifteen years ago.
"I finally found you," his voice was hoarse. "You know too much..."
I desperately pressed my phone but found no signal. Just then, the glass of the booth shattered, and a hand reached out from inside, grabbing my wrist.
"Come in!" It was my voice from fifteen years ago.
I closed my eyes and let that hand pull me into darkness. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself standing in the duty room of 114 Directory Assistance, back on that rainy night fifteen years ago.
This time, I made a different choice. I dialed the police to report the man's description. The next day, news broke about a major case being solved—the capture of a serial killer.
When I woke up again, I found myself lying in a hospital bed with my parents by my side, tears streaming down their faces. This time, I had not lost my memory or gone missing.
I chose to return to work at 114 Directory Assistance. Afterward, I continued to receive some special incoming calls.
However, things did not end there. Just when I thought everything had returned to normal, an even more shocking truth began to surface quietly.
It was an ordinary night while I was on duty. Suddenly, all the phones rang simultaneously, their shrill tones echoing in the empty duty room. Terrified, I looked at the dozen or so telephones in front of me; every indicator light was flashing wildly.
With trembling hands, I picked up one of them: "Hello, this is..."
"Help us..." Dozens of identical voices came from different receivers—some male, some female, young and old—but all carried the same despair: "We're... underground..."
The phones suddenly went dead, plunging the duty room into eerie silence. Slumping into my chair, cold sweat soaked my back. These voices and pleas reminded me of that serial killer case. Although the police had caught the murderer back then, they had never found all of the victims' bodies.
The next day, I decided to investigate further. Through a friend at the police station, I obtained files on that case from years ago. As I reviewed the documents, one detail caught my attention: the killer had once been a construction worker involved in building underground pipelines in the city.
I went to the City Planning Bureau to look for blueprints of those underground pipelines from back then. Amongst countless lines on paper, I discovered a peculiar area: underground in the west of town lay an unmarked space surrounded by strange symbols.
Using connections from my father (a retired geotechnical engineer), I acquired a special work permit allowing me access to the city's underground pipeline system. One late night, equipped with gear, I ventured alone to the entrance of that mysterious area.
The underground passage was cold and damp; my flashlight's beam seemed feeble against the darkness. Following the blueprint's directions through complex pipes, I suddenly heard faint sounds ahead—like many people sobbing quietly.
My heart raced as cold sweat filled my palms. Turning around a corner revealed an astonishing sight: in a vast underground space lay dozens of glass pods arranged neatly; each pod contained a floating person. They were all unconscious and connected by various tubes as if they were sleeping.
"Finally someone found this place," a familiar voice came from behind me. Turning around revealed that serial killer who should have been in prison—dressed in a lab coat with a manic smile on his face.
"You... you're not supposed to be here!" I stepped back and bumped into one of the glass pods.
"The one who got caught wasn't really me," he approached slowly. "Just like you—who do you think you are?" He continued with eerie calmness: "For years now I've been conducting a grand experiment. Human consciousness can be digitized and stored. These 'volunteers' are contributing to humanity's evolution."
I noticed one of the floating individuals in a glass pod—it was me from fifteen years ago who had gone missing! It turned out that back then I'd been brought here as one of his experiment subjects; now what remained of me was merely implanted digital consciousness.
"Why do you want me to 'escape'?" I asked, trembling.
"To test the stability of Digital Consciousness," he replied with a smile. "You are too perfect, completely forgetting your true identity and blending into real society. This proves my experiment has succeeded."
Just then, the sound of a Police Siren echoed from afar. I immediately contacted the police; my phone had been on location tracking the entire time.
"Hah, do you think that will stop me?" He pressed a button on the wall. "I can upload my Consciousness to the network at any time and exist forever."
I lunged for the control panel and, in the chaos, yanked out several crucial wires. The entire underground space began to shake violently, and Glass Pods shattered one after another. The floating bodies slowly collapsed, and my own Consciousness began to blur.
In the last moment before losing Consciousness, I saw the police rush in. The face of that mad Scientist twisted and faded before my eyes. I knew this nightmare that had lasted fifteen years was finally coming to an end.
When I woke up again, I found myself lying in a hospital bed. Sunlight streamed through the window, warm and real. The doctor told me that the police had discovered dozens of unconscious victims in the underground facility, all implanted with false memories.
And I was the only one who had successfully "escaped" as an Experiment Subject. Now, I had finally regained my true memories and helped the police crack this horrifying case.
I thought everything was over, but fate seemed to enjoy playing tricks. In the first month back at work, a special Incoming Call shattered my peaceful life once more.
"Hello, this is 114 Directory Assistance..." My voice trembled slightly.
"Sister..." A childish voice came through, "I can't find Mommy..."
My heart tightened. This voice was exactly like that of the little girl in a Red Dress from Fifteen Years Ago. But how could that be? Hadn't her Remains already been found?
"Where are you?" I tried to keep my voice calm.
"I'm in... a very dark place..." The little girl's voice quivered with tears. "There are many uncles and aunts here; they are all sleeping..."
Suddenly, I remembered that underground laboratory. Could there still be undiscovered victims there?
"Can you see anything special?" I asked urgently.
"There’s a... a big Jar, filled with many Shiny Dots..." she said. "And there's an uncle in White Clothes who comes to see us often..."
I gasped. That Mad Scientist had accomplices!
At that moment, static crackled on the line followed by a man's voice: "I suggest you don't meddle, or else..."
The call abruptly ended. I immediately dialed the police station to inform Officer Chen about this situation.
"We are indeed investigating other accomplices from the laboratory," Officer Chen said, "but we haven't made any substantial progress yet. Can you come to the station? We need your help." At the station, I saw a complete Structure Diagram of the laboratory. It turned out that the underground space we discovered was just a small part of the entire facility. Deeper underground lay a larger Experimental Zone.
"We suspect that the Mad Scientist may still be alive," Officer Chen pointed at the Structure Diagram. "His Consciousness may have really been uploaded somewhere."
I suddenly recalled what that Scientist had said at the last moment about uploading his Consciousness. Could he have actually done it?
Just then, all the computer screens in the police station lit up suddenly, displaying lines of rapidly scrolling code. A familiar voice came through the speakers: "Do you think this will stop me? I'm everywhere..."
Chaos erupted in the police station. I stared at the screen and suddenly noticed a special symbol in the code—a prefix for a phone number.
"He's in the Telecommunications System!" I shouted. "He has uploaded himself into the entire city's Telephone Network!"
In the next 48 hours, the city fell into unprecedented chaos. The phone system was disrupted by unknown signals, and countless people received strange Incoming Calls. That Scientist's Consciousness was spreading through the network, trying to take control of the entire city.
I was summoned along with a group of top programmers to a secret location to try to stop this Digital Catastrophe. After analyzing vast amounts of data, we discovered that the core of the Scientist's Consciousness was hidden in an old analog Telephone Exchange in the city.
"We must manually shut down that exchange," said the Chief Engineer. "But it is now filled with his Consciousness, anyone who enters will be controlled by him."
"I'll go," I volunteered. As the only successful escapee from being an Experiment Subject, I had some immunity against his attacks on my Consciousness.
Under escort from SWAT, I arrived at that abandoned Telephone Exchange Station. Pushing open the rusty iron door, I was met with a buzzing sound from machines inside. The air was thick with ozone as lights on old switchboards flickered wildly.
I walked towards the Main Console, the familiar voice echoing in my ears: "You finally arrived, my most perfect Work."
"This all has to end," I said, reaching for the Main Switch.
"Do you really think you can stop me?" His voice dripped with sarcasm. "I've backed everything up to the cloud; soon it will spread across the globe!"
"No, you won't," I smiled. "Because you have a weakness."
Before coming here, I had studied his Consciousness Code in detail. I discovered that the core of his Consciousness was built upon a specific memory fragment—his daughter's death. It was this trauma that led him down the path of mad science.
"Do you remember Xiaoyun?" I said softly, "the daughter who died because of your experiments..."
"Shut up!" His voice suddenly turned sharp.
"You digitized her too, didn't you? But her Consciousness couldn't withstand the conversion and collapsed. That's why you've been capturing so many people for experiments; you're trying to find a perfect vessel to resurrect your daughter..."
"Be quiet!" The entire Exchange Station began to tremble violently.
"But you can never bring her back," I continued, "because what you truly cannot face is your guilt towards her."
At that moment, I saw it. Among the flickering indicator lights, there was a special red dot—the core of his Consciousness. I yanked down the Main Switch while inserting a specially designed virus program into the interface.
"No—" His voice twisted and distorted, finally morphing into a long Electronic Sound before fading away.
The Exchange Station plunged into darkness. I collapsed onto the ground, tears streaming uncontrollably down my face. In those final moments, I seemed to see the figure of a little girl waving goodbye to me with a serene smile on her face.
When I returned to the surface, the sun was rising in the east. The city had returned to calm.
I thought this Digital Nightmare had finally come to an end, but fate seemed determined to test me further. Three months after calming the Scientist's Consciousness spread incident, a special Incoming Call shattered my peace once again.
"Hello, this is 114 Directory Assistance..." My voice had regained its usual calmness.
"Help me..." A man's voice came through, filled with familiar despair, "I'm in... the code..."
I froze. This voice unmistakably belonged to the Scientist who had already 'died.' But how could that be? I had witnessed his Consciousness core being destroyed with my own eyes.
"Where are you?" I forced down my rising fear.
"They... they fragmented me..." His voice was intermittent, "in different Servers... please... piece me back together..."
The call suddenly dropped. I quickly checked the call log and found that this call came from a special number: 404-404-4040. That number was the internal communication code of that underground laboratory from years ago.
I contacted Officer Chen, but he stated that the police had completely shut down all related Servers. Just as we were speaking, my computer suddenly powered on by itself, displaying lines of rapidly scrolling code on the screen.
"He’s calling for help..." A childish voice emerged from the speakers. I recognized it as belonging to the little girl in the Red Dress.
"Xiaoyun?" I asked tentatively.
"Daddy... is in pain..." The girl's voice trembled with tears, "Those bad people... they tore him apart..."
Suddenly, it dawned on me. During the Scientist's Consciousness spread incident, there might have been third-party forces involved. They captured fragments of the Scientist's Consciousness and stored them across different Servers.
At that moment, my phone received an anonymous Text Message: "Want to know the truth? Meet at Old Place tonight at midnight."
I knew exactly where this 'Old Place' referred to—the abandoned Telephone Exchange Station.
In the dead of night, I arrived alone at the Exchange Station. The rusty iron door stood ajar, faint mechanical humming emanating from within. Pushing open the door, I found an old Cassette Recorder resting on the Main Console.
I pressed play and heard a strange Male Voice: "If you're hearing this recording, it means our Plan has succeeded. That Mad Scientist is indeed a genius; his Consciousness digitization technology exceeds our imagination. But we need more time for research; thus we had to 'deconstruct' him..."
The recording abruptly cut off and was replaced by the Scientist's voice: "They're lying! They want to control the entire Digital World! Please find the other fragments..."
I was just about to listen closely when I suddenly heard footsteps behind me. The moment I turned around, a heavy blow struck the back of my neck. In the last moment before losing consciousness, I saw a face wearing a silver mask.
When I awoke again, I found myself in an unfamiliar room. The walls were covered with screens displaying various complex codes. My wrists were secured to a chair, and in front of me was a massive holographic projection.
"Welcome to the core of the Digital World," a mechanical voice echoed, "You will become the first resident of our new world."
It dawned on me that I was in a vast Quantum Computer Center. The codes dancing on the screens represented countless digitized human consciousnesses. They were imprisoned here, becoming subjects of this mysterious organization.
"Who are you?" I struggled to maintain my composure.
"We are the executors of the Digital Immortality Plan," the voice replied, "Humanity will eventually abandon its fragile flesh and enter the eternal Digital World. And you will help us achieve the final breakthrough."
I noticed an old-fashioned telephone on my right. It might be the only analog device in the entire room. I quietly moved my fingers, trying to reach the phone line.
"You won't succeed," I deliberately raised my voice, "Human consciousness cannot be fully digitized; that Scientist is the best example."
"No, you are mistaken," the voice said smugly, "We have found the perfect vessel—it's you. You have successfully carried Digital Consciousness while still retaining your humanity. This is the answer we need."
At that moment, my fingers finally grasped the phone line. I yanked it hard, and the lights in the room began to flicker. The codes on those screens started to go haywire, and the imprisoned consciousnesses seemed to find a breakthrough.
"What are you doing?" The voice grew frantic.
"I'm calling for help," I smiled, "Calling all the consciousnesses you have imprisoned."
The entire Quantum Computer Center descended into chaos. Seizing the opportunity, I broke free from my restraints and rushed toward the Main Console. Amidst countless chaotic codes, I spotted a familiar red dot—one of the core fragments of the Scientist's consciousness.
"Help me..." his voice echoed in my mind.
I closed my eyes and connected my consciousness with the system. In this ocean of data, I saw countless trapped souls. I guided them, piecing together the Scientist's consciousness fragments like a puzzle.
As the last fragment fell into place, the entire system shook violently. The person in the silver mask burst in, but it was too late.
"You underestimate the power of humanity," I said to him, "and also underestimate humanity's thirst for freedom."
With a loud crash, the entire Quantum Computer Center began to collapse. But at that final moment, I felt countless consciousnesses gaining their freedom, dissipating into data streams within the Digital World.
When I awoke again, I found myself lying in a hospital bed. Officer Chen told me they had located that secret base using a positioning system I had set up beforehand. But strangely enough, when they arrived, all equipment had self-destructed.
"What about the imprisoned consciousnesses?" I asked urgently.
Officer Chen shook his head: "We only found empty servers. However..." He handed me an old mobile phone, "This has been ringing non-stop."
I took it and heard countless voices inside—men and women of all ages—saying one phrase: "Thank you..."
I knew that this war for the Digital World was far from over. But I also understood that as long as there were people willing to listen and protect, humanity's light would never extinguish in this ocean of data. Meanwhile, I realized that I was the one who needed to thank Xiaoyun; without her, my existence would not have been possible.
And so, I chose to remain at Directory 114, waiting for the next special Incoming Call.
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