The Offices of Thalia Trimble, Private Eye - vol 2

"Yeah. That’s right. Amazon Fulfillment Center on Rayo Avenue." He sounds distracted. No doubt he is multitasking and only half paying attention to the conversation. "If you’re calling about the career fair this weekend, please remember that all attendees must wear a mask and we ask that you stay in your car until we call you. As much as we would love to see you in person, we encourage all interested applicants to attend the virtual career fair if possible. If you are calling about an undelivered package, please report the issue through your account page on Amazon.com and a representative will reach out to you as soon as possible."

Once the well rehearsed monologue finishes he asks, "Is there anything else I can do for you today?"

Thalia looks at the receiver as though it is the person spouting all these words that add up to utter gibberish, then looks up at Marshall. His face displays what she assumes is the mirror image of her own, conveying a sense of something that has gone beyond surprise and into a questioning of one's own wakefulness.

Grasping for any conversational handhold she can find, Thalia stammers, "I... Okay, um... Rayo Avenue. Where is that, exactly?"

"South Gate." Marshall shakes his head. That also does not ring any bells. The man on the other end of the line picks up from the silence that his information wasn't helpful. "Alright. Get on the 710. The Long Beach Freeway. Take 42 West and Rayo is the first left after crossing over the river. Heh. First time I've had to give direction in like 10 years. Why don't you just use GPS like a normal person?"

"G...PS? Is this 'Fulfillment Center' a military installation?" A thought occurs to her. "Wait, what city are we talking about? I'm in San Espero."

There is a moment of silence on the other end of the line when you ask if they are a military installation. He audibly laughs when you tell him you're in San Espero. "Alright, lady. Very funny. I already told you that we're in Los Angeles. Are you done messing around? This better not be a prank for your YouTube channel. It's really not cool to do that to honest people who are just trying to work."

"I'm not messing around, honest. This isn't a you-tube... thing." She doesn't think telling him that she has no idea what that means would be productive. "I'm just trying to put things together, I swear. Now, you say you're in Los Angeles. Tell me where that is. It's... in the United States, right?"

There is a long sigh. "Yup. LA is indeed in the United States, ma'am. Southern California. 4 million residents. Second largest city in the country right after New York. But you probably haven't heard of the Big Apple either, have you? Is San Espero the name of the gigantic rock you live under?" That one gets Marshall to laugh a little before he quickly wipes the smile off his face.

Thalia spares the briefest of glares for Marshall, but it's strictly an aside. She's becoming more confused and frustrated by this conversation by the second, which she can no longer keep out of her tone.

"Well, I've lived in southern California all my life and this is the first I've heard of this Los Angeles. But if it has a population of four million, it can't be the second largest city in the country, since San Espero has probably twice that many people. Also, New York is a state, not a city, so maybe get the fictional stats corrected in your script for the next bozo who calls the 'concentration camp' number. Now, can you tell me the purpose of this whole free phone booth charade, or do you have to connect me with someone who can?"

David goes silent again. After a minute you can here muffled talk between two individuals on the other end of the line before someone new introduces themselves. "Hello, ma'am. This is Linda speaking. I would like to do my best to assist you with any issues you are having with your Amazon service but I cannot allow you to treat my employees disrespectfully. I must inform you that this conversation is being recorded and any further... outbursts, like the previous one will be forwarded to the proper authorities. Now, do you have an issue with your account that I can help you with?" Linda is a customer service pro. Her bubbly voice would be sickening even if you weren't dealing with this nonsense.

Marshall takes out his notebook and jots down the unfamiliar terms from the phone call. Los Angeles. Rayo Avenue. Virtual Career Fair. South Gate. Amazon.

Thalia nods at Marshall's note-taking and rubs her forehead. Linda's voice makes her queasy.

"No, look. I wasn't being disrespectful to David, I'm just... really confused. I'm in the city of San Espero, and there's a phone booth here. You pick up the receiver and it gives you a menu of... really strange options. One of them is 'dial 6 to speak to a concentration camp.' I dialed 6, and... I got this number.

"The reason I'm so confused is that David mentioned a bunch of things that don't make sense to me. He doesn't seem to have heard of San Espero, the largest city in the state of California and the second-largest in the United States. He's talking about someplace called Los Angeles, which is allegedly also in California and the second-largest city in the country, but I've never heard of it. And he told me about a career fair or something that I have to wear a mask to attend, but stay in my car for some reason. And suggested a virtual career fair, which... I mean, what even is that? And Amazon, you guys keep talking about Amazon. And packages. I'm... just not sure what's going on here, you know?"

Literally everything this Linda has said has raised clusters of additional questions, but Thalia realizes now that there won't be any answers, no matter how many questions she asks; at least, not intelligible ones. In this situation, asking questions just leads one to a Russian doll of nested questions.

Marshall looks like he can't take much more of this, so Thalia lifts the receiver to her ear and says, in a hollow voice, "No. I don't think so. Thank you."

She notices that her hand is shaking as it replaces the phone on the hook. Get hold of yourself, she admonishes herself, but even that sounds half-hearted and weak.

She bursts out of the phone booth, suddenly needing to breathe fresh air in an unconfined space.

"What the hell was that?" Marshall demands angrily. Although it sounds like an accusation, and he may even mean it as such, she knows that it's just his personal reaction to the same disorientation and unsettled fear that she's feeling herself. They'd just placed a phone call to The Twilight Zone, and somebody was home.

"What do you think it was? It's a prank," she answers irritably. "An incredibly elaborate one, but that shouldn't be too surprising. Everything about this is elaborate."

She's pacing around aimlessly in a disjointed circle, walking off her sense of unmoored terror. This is silly; it's an elaborate prank, nothing more. She takes deep breaths and tries to center herself, getting into her tai chi mindset. It helps her to calm down. She stops pacing and looks at the soccer mom art studio.

Pointing, Thalia says, "All right, that's our next stop. Ten bucks says the person running that place gets his painting subjects from 'press 2 to be inspired.'" She leads the way into the studio.

Marshall gives the phonebooth an annoyed kick. "I’m going to have to pass on that bet. It may all be a prank but... look at them! It's affecting people's lives. I don’t care if humor is the intention. If this phone and the dream survey are having this big of an effect on actual behavior, then this goes far beyond a prank. We need to shut down whoever is behind this."

You notice Marshal start to wobble a little. He has to lean up against the booth to stop from falling over. When he realizes that the phonebooth has come to his aid, he quickly shuffles across the sidewalk and takes a seat outside the studio. "I’m feeling a little light headed, Trimble. You mind getting taking care of this lead while I catch my breath?"

---

When you walk through the door, the group is just finishing up. Everyone is admiring each other’s identical paintings and giving compliments as they finish off their glasses of wine. The art instructor sees you enter and waves you over.

"Why hello there! Walking by and like what you saw? In just a few short hours I can have you painting just as magnificently as these lovely ladies!" The soccer moms ‘woo!’ in unison. "Name’s Amanda. Thank you so much for taking the time to say hi! How are you doing today?"

Thalia looks at Marshall with some concern as he goes unsteady. That's when she realizes she doesn't feel so hot herself; it's like something's messing with her equilibrium. But whatever it is, it seems to be hitting Marshall harder.

"Sure thing. You stay here and relax. Keep an eye on the phone booth. If anyone happens to use it, see if you can talk to them. Find out why they're using it, who they talked to... Basically, anything they'll tell you."

She enters the studio, smiles at a couple of the "artists" as they celebrate their accomplishments, and approaches Amanda when she waves her over.

Thalia gives a light peal of laughter at the camaraderie of the group - which is probably at least partially wine-fueled - and says, "I'm doing great, thank you! And if you might have met your match in me when it comes to teaching me to paint. My mom tried for years before finally conceding defeat."

She glances at one of the nearest easels. "I have to say, you've really chosen a bold subject for a class like this. I thought you folks usually went in for still life displays, or pretty pictures from magazines. What gave you the idea to use something like this as for today's project?"

"Bold projects for bold ladies!" Another chorus of woos. Now that you are up close you are able to see more details in the painting. In addition to the ruined city, the foreground shows some type of creatures making use of car frames as if they were hermit crab shells. As if the original ruined city wasn’t troubling enough.

Amanda doesn’t seem to think so. She looks at the painting with pure delight. She waves a hand and motions for you to follow her to the wall where several paintings are hung.

"Here are some paintings from our prior classes. I’d like to say I came up with the idea for all these beauties myself, but I saw you playing around with the Futel phone out front. It’s great, isn’t it! Before each class I use the phone and select the option to be inspired. Its has changed this class from something drab and paint by numbers into a truly unique shared experience. It has brought us closer together. We all feel this... connection to something bigger than ourselves. Would you like a brochure? The next class is a week from today."

Thalia makes a show of admiring the various paintings, but her internal reactions range from nonplused to horrified. The portraits seem to presume the viewer knows the subjects, that they have some significance beyond just being pictures of people, but Thalia has never seen them, as far as she knows. The rest are just strange, or disturbing.

But she smiles as she accepts a brochure. "So you get the ideas for these from that 'inspired' option on the phone? Do you call the number in advance and then create the painting for the students to copy?"

"Oh yes, I must call in advance." She smiles and looks like she is lost in a memory. "Hearing the muse talk is a divine experience. It feels like you are transported to another world. It makes me feel like I’m part of something big. Connected to the universe in a way that I could never achieve on my own. I get lost in that feeling but do not start painting until everyone arrives for the class. It takes all of us to working together to truly reach across the veil and bring a small piece of something back with us." She comes back to reality and gives you a pat on the shoulder. "I do hope that you’ll come back for our next class. There’s always room for more."

The door suddenly opens as the class starts to file out. Beyond the giddy housewives you see that Marshall is back in the phonebooth. He has the receiver to his ear and nods at whatever is being said to him.

Marshall holds onto the phone but leans out of the booth. He sees that you are watching and waves you over. When you get outside he tells you that the person on the other end wants to speak with you.

"Hello. Thank you for reporting your dream to the San Espero Dream Survey. Are you aware that many others have reported similar dreams? Would you be interested in meeting with people such as yourself and discussing your dreams?" The voice is cheerful but unnerving. Kind of like the stereotypical voice of a mind control victim from a bad movie.

As Amanda waxes New Age-y on the artistic ecstasy of producing a roomful of identical paintings every week, Thalia frowns inwardly.

"So... you don't paint the model painting ahead of time for them to copy? You paint yours at the same time as the rest of the class? How do you all manage to paint the same thing, then?"

When the class begins to break up, Thalia mutters her assurance that she'll come back for the next class and hurries out to see what Marshall's waving about.

She didn't think she could get more weirded out than she already was, but the voice on the phone pushes that envelope once again.

"Uh... yeah, sure. I guess so. Is this some kind of psychological study? Like, for somebody's dissertation project, or something?"

"I couldn’t paint it by myself. It is a collective effort that produces these works. I have the knowledge but the inspiration flows through all of us. It guides our hands to put to canvas what we see in our hearts."

---

The person on the other end of the line makes a noise that is somewhat like a chuckle. It is very quick and odd sounding, but you get the general sentiment behind it. "We think of it more like a support group. We help each other to see meaning where there is nothing but confusion. To forge connections in those that feel lost. We are meeting tomorrow night at 6 P.M. in room 124 of the San Espero convention center."

Taking out her notebook and pen to write down the time, place, and room number for the meeting, Thalia agrees to show up and thanks the caller. "Hey, how will you know who I am? Do I need a code word or something?" She adds an uncertain little laugh as she says it.

Once the call is finished, she tells Marshall, "Well, looks like I'm going to get to experience the kind of meeting your anonymous student described. That should produce another lead for us, at least." Glancing back at the art studio, she says, "You know, I think I want to make one more phone call."

She lifts the receiver again, looks Marshall over discreetly and decides maybe he should sit this one out, and presses the receiver to her ear, keeping him from having to listen to whatever results when the connection is made. She also turns to a fresh page in her notebook.

When the recorded menu begins, Thalia presses 2 "to be inspired."