The Switchboard

You didn't say it, but you thought it.

The Twilight Zone redefined storytelling, drawing audiences into the unimaginable. Now, 66 years later, top writers, artists, and musicians are stepping into its eerie glow with a fresh twist. Ready to see where they’ll take you?

Liz Zimmers | Edith Bow | Sean Archer | Bryan Pirolli | Andy Futuro | CB Mason | John Ward | NJ | Hanna Delaney | William Pauley III | Jason Thompson | Nolan Green | Shaina Read | J. Curtis | Honeygloom | Stephen Duffy | K.C. Knouse | Michele Bardsley | Bob Graham | Annie Hendrix | Clancy Steadwell | Jon T | Sean Thomas McDonnell | Miguel S. | A.P Murphy | Lisa Kuznak | Bridget Riley | EJ Trask | Shane Bzdok | Adam Rockwell | Will Boucher

***

Ted placed the two beer bottles down on the table, ignoring the redundant, soggy beer mats. “Thanks,” James said. “You should have let me get this round.” 

Ted waved a hand. “No, don’t worry about it. I’m sure I owe you a favour.” Ted was the new guy on the sales floor. They’d hit it off during his first week, and Ted suggested they go out for drinks, to celebrate. Making friends was easy when you both hated the job. 

James took a sip of the beer and wiped some condensation away with his fingers. Ted was watching him intently. “What can I do, then?” he asked. 

They were distracted by a loud crash behind the bar. Someone had fallen into the open fridge, and would probably be taking a pay cut for the damage; there was glass everywhere, and any bottles that didn’t break were spinning like tyres on black ice. James, returning his focus to the conversation, sighed and let his shoulders drop. “Nothing. Just having a bad day.” 

“Trouble at home?” 

James hung on the question, thinking of home. “I’ve got a good deal.” 

“Have you, though?” 

Did he? He couldn’t be sure any more. Emma, his wife, bought herself everything that she wanted. She didn’t need him. He felt like a glorified sperm donor, except it was worse than that because she wasn’t even sure if she wanted kids. “I can’t afford the pay cut,” she’d say. It stung, because the elephant in the room was how James only earned a third of what his wife did. He couldn’t step in if ever the river ran dry. 

“You’d better take that,” Ted said, hearing the buzz of James’ phone. James looked at him, alarmed. How did he hear it over the music in the bar? Ted nodded calmly, like a poker player about to place his winning hand down on the table. “Answer that, and your life will change forever.”

Hello, Operator.

Sorry?

This is the operator. Please state the name and address.

James Percy, 15 Henley Street.

Connecting your call.

Click, click, click.

---

James woke in an empty bed and suspiciously eyed the floral wallpaper in the bedroom. 

Confused, he sat up. The silence of the strange room was abruptly broken by the shrill ringing of the telephone next to his bed. He stared at it as it beckoned for him to pick up. 

“Hello?” he asked. 

“Hey, James, you’re awake! It’s Ted.” 

“Ted?” 

“Yeah, from work. Anyway, just wanted to say that I hope things are going great, just as you wanted.” There was a momentary pause. “James?” 

“Ted.” The name, in the midst of the disorientation, meant nothing to him. 

“See you later.” 

James listened to the click of Ted hanging up. The hum of the idle line was oddly reassuring. He placed the beige plastic receiver down in its cradle, and looked about the room again. 

Downstairs, he could hear the sound of children running around the house. Curious to learn more, he ventured downstairs to see them. 

At the breakfast table, there were four children eating cereal. He stopped in the doorway; their features were familiar—belonging to Emma and to him. He was both shocked and amazed, and overwhelmed with love for them. 

“Hi Dad,” one boy said, noticing him standing there in the doorway. He was about eight or nine, and returned to reading the back of the cereal box. 

Dad. He was Dad. 

“Your coffee’s ready,” said his wife. She was dressed impeccably in a floral dress beneath a simple white apron tied around her waist. He rubbed his eyes.

“Emma?” 

She looked at him peculiarly. “James? Are you all right? Why aren’t you dressed for work?” 

“Oh. I’d better get dressed for work,” he said, looking down at his pyjamas. 

“You’ve got time… why don’t you drink your coffee,” she said, pointing to the table. He picked up the mug and sipped some. It was black, how he liked it. “Do you want some eggs?” she asked. 

Emma, for as long as he had known her, did not like to cook. She wasn’t a terrible cook—it just didn’t hold her attention. She had only ever made him eggs on his birthday, but he didn’t think it was his birthday today. The date at the top of the newspaper on the table caught his eye and confirmed that not only was it not his birthday, but James McMahon wasn’t even born yet. He nodded to his wife, and she set to work right away at the cooker. 

He ate the eggs gratefully and studied the children, who barely noticed him. They didn’t require much prompting to put their bowls in the sink and go and get dressed for school. They each skipped out of the room and thundered up the stairs, parading around the landing like elephants. 

“I hope you have a good day today,” Emma said, taking his plate and putting it in the sink. He watched her from behind. Her movements were almost mechanical as she filled the sink with water and pulled her gloves on. Her hair, neatly tied up and barely moving, shone in the morning sun. The coffee was bitter. He gently pushed it away. 

“I need some money,” she said, looking back over her shoulder. 

“What for?” he asked. He immediately regretted it. “I mean, ok. How much?”

“Fifty, for the kids' dinner money and this week’s shopping.” 

“Ok.” 

His briefcase was waiting for him by the door. He opened his wallet and placed five, ten pound notes on the telephone table. He traced his finger across the top of the receiver and then gently hooked his fingertip on each ring. The only numbers he knew were the emergency services or his mother’s landline. He searched the pockets of his blazer for his mobile phone. He didn’t have one. 

“Emma? Have you seen my phone?” he asked. 

She poked her head around the corner. “You’re standing by the phone.” She approached the table and took the notes, stuffing them into her pocket book. “Thank you. Have a good day.” She kissed him on the cheek and left him standing in the hallway. He inhaled and realised that the perfume was the only thing familiar about her. 

James opened the door and stood out on the driveway, wondering where it was that he was supposed to go. He opened his briefcase and found a letterhead with his name and business address on. He picked up the car keys out of his pocket and found nothing but a car key, a house key and a leather keyring with Jaguar inscribed on it. After manually unlocking the car door, he climbed in and opened the glove box. Instead of a phone, he found an A to Z and flicked through it. 

James has it all. He’s an assistant manager at an established firm, and has four beautiful children, and a beautiful wife at home. He is about to learn that dreams come true if you want them enough. The life he dreamed of is within reach, if he stays in the Twilight Zone.  

“There you are. I was worried!” The gentleman on the third floor said when he exited the lift. They shook hands. James narrowed his eyes and looked at the man’s face: it was Ted, but in a blue wool suit, standing in a wood-panelled corridor. 

“Sorry I’m late,” James said.  

“Come on, let's get this over with.”

He followed his colleague into the meeting room where a brunette in business attire sat waiting. She was looking at them through the thin lenses of designer frames. “Good morning, Pamela,” his colleague said to the woman.

“Ted,” she said, shaking his hand. She reached for James’ hand and shook his firmly, too. “James.”  Her voice sounded familiar—lacking in formalities—like an operator.

Everyone sat down. “So, Pamela. We’ve reviewed the promotion application and… we’re giving it to Bill.” 

She stared for a moment. “I’ve been at this company for twelve years, Ted,” she said quietly. “I have children.” 

James looked down at the form in front of him. Pamela had two degrees and fifteen years’ experience. He looked at the form underneath. Bill had five years experience and no degrees. James placed them down quietly and looked at Pamela. 

“You are the cornerstone of the department, Pamela,” Ted said. “Team three would be lost without you.” 

“I understand,” she said coldly. “Thank you for your time.” Pamela shook their hands and left the room. They heard her heavy-heeled footsteps marching away. 

“She’s very experienced,” James remarked, looking at the form again. 

“She is,” Ted sighed, “but come on? Bill’s just got married and has a family.” 

“So does she?” 

“James…” he began, “her kids are practically raised by the babysitters. It’s not right for a woman to be so career-driven when she has a family, you know? I don’t want to encourage unhappy families in my workplace. It’s not only demoralising for the blokes but it’s bad for business. I know you agree. We were only talking about it yesterday.” Ted studied James’ face for a minute, and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Do you need me to get you something?”

James returned home later that night to find his dinner waiting for him on the table. The kids were in the living room watching something on the television—Looney Tunes. His wife was at the sink again, washing the dishes. He sat down and started to eat. She didn’t turn around. She was staring at the window into the blackness outside. With the assistance of the kitchen light, he could make out a perfectly painted mouth and long, black eyelashes. The raindrops on the window presented a smudged reflection of her. 

When they went to bed, he felt he was lying next to a stranger. He tried to remedy it by initiating sex. She put her book down and lay there, smiling faintly. He waited for her to make a sound, a move, anything. She simply lay there, holding his shoulders. He lowered his head into her shoulder and made love to her, but she didn’t make a sound. Unsure of what she was doing, he pulled away from her. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked, concerned. 

“I just… don’t you want to?” 

“Oh, I’m just tired. You go ahead if you need to. I don’t mind.” 

All blood in his body had long evacuated from his penis, and he sank back down into the pillow, defeated. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “You usually don’t mind.” 

Before he could answer, she was fast asleep. He reached over her to turn her bedside lamp off, and saw the bottle of pills. 

The next morning, he woke up early, and rolled over to lay his arm across her waist. “Emma,” he said quietly. 

“Hmm? What time is it?” she asked, worried that she’d overslept. 

“It’s only six, don’t worry. I wondered… what did you want to be when you grew up?” 

There was a pause, and he heard the bed sheets rustle as she rolled over to face him. “What?” she asked. 

“What did you want to be when you grew up?” 

“Is this some kind of joke?” 

“No?” 

She climbed out of the bed and put her dressing gown on. “You’re cruel, James. Like it matters what I wanted.” The ensuite door closed behind her. 

He stretched over to her side of the bed and opened the bedside drawer. It was replete with small brown bottles. Tranquilisers. 

He walked over to the door. “Emma,” he said, gently knocking. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

She was crying. “Go away, James,” she said quietly. 

“You’re wonderful,” he said. 

“What?”

“You did a degree in Business, and then you went on to do an MBA. I’m so proud of you. You’re a tech consultant now, Emma. You earn three times more than me, and we have an amazing house and…” he paused. “And I’m a prick about it.” He sniffed back tears. “I’m married to the sexiest woman in the world, and she just wants me to be happy, and I’m a prick about her success.” 

“I’m lost, Ted,” she said, sniffing back tears. “I’m so lost. I’m so cold.”

The phone in the bedroom rang, causing him to jump out of his skin. Without thinking, he rushed over to it and, checking the time, picked up the receiver. 

“Hi James. What’s going on?” It was Ted.

“What do you mean?” 

“Why are you trying to ruin things for yourself, James?” 

“I don’t want this, Ted.” 

“You said you did.” 

“I haven’t said anything.”

“Oh—my bad. You wished it.”

James looked over his shoulder at the closed bathroom door. “It’s not right. I don’t… It was just a call, Ted. You said it was a call!” 

“Hmm,” Ted trailed off. James listened to the whispering of the line as he waited. “Fine,” Ted said. “But I must warn you… you’re not going to like it.” 

Operator.

Emma Percy, 15 Henley Street, 2024.

Click, click, click.

---

Emma, returning from work, closed the front door behind her and dumped her keys and her bag on the side table. She removed her shoes and hung her jacket up on the stand. “Hello?” she asked. The soles of her feet stretched out into the plush carpet, and the solid floor massaged the tight muscles. She was glad to be home. 

“In here,” James said, flipping the switch on the kettle. It rumbled into action. He opened the cupboard overhead and reached for two mugs, placing them on the countertop. She went over to him and placed her arms around him, resting her head on his chest. His scent relaxed her, and he was a welcomed, warm contrast to the January air outside. He inhaled deeply, catching the familiar scent.

“That was a stressful day.” She pulled away from him when he didn’t wrap his arms around her. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I’m sorry for wishing we lived in simpler times.” 

“What?” 

“I’m really sorry, Emma.”

“About what, James?” 

“Everything. All you’ve ever done is support me.” 

“Well yeah,” she said, shrugging. “We’re in this together. What’s yours is mine and all that.” 

“I want four kids, Emma.” 

She laughed and shook her head. “What?” 

“I want four. And I’m going to stay home and look after them.” 

“Where’s this come from?” 

“I’ve looked into it. We can share your maternity leave. I’ll take unpaid time off. Christ, we don’t even notice my earnings now. You don’t have to quit work to have kids.”

“Ok?” 

“Fuck what people think,” he said. What he meant was fuck what I think. “God, you’re gorgeous.” 

“Was job hunting that bad today?” She laughed. “I told you I didn’t mind if you just wanted to slob out for a bit.” 

His phone buzzed in his pocket, awakening all of his nerve endings as it vibrated with urgency. He twitched as it bleeped. Lifting it out, he looked at the caller ID. It was Ted. “Just a minute,” he said, separating himself from his wife. He walked into the hall. “Hi Ted,” he said. 

“She’ll never have kids, James.” 

“What?”    

“She can’t have kids. I mean, the other Emma can, but this one can’t.” 

“What? How do you know this?” 

“Haven’t you figured it out yet? I know everything.” 

James’ face, sticky with sweat, glistened as he caught it in the mirror. “What do you want, Ted?” 

“James,” Ted laughed wryly. “I’m here because of what you want. I’m at the hospital now. Look, there’s not much time to make a decision. Are you with Emma now, or are you with Emma sixty years ago?” 

“What? Why are you at the hospital?” 

“You’re through to the switchboard, James. Do you want me to hold the line or connect you to another call?”

“What switchboard? What does this even mean?”

A long sigh hissed down the receiver. “You’re dead, James. You were both in a car accident—on the way to your first ultrasound, if you must know.”

James held the phone away from his sweating ear. “Babe?” he heard Emma call from the kitchen as the hallway faded into a shadowed abyss. Emma—happy Emma. The one who smiled and drank wine without any special bonuses. The one who laughed at his jokes, was calling him—somewhere. He couldn’t hear the other Emma any more. He couldn’t hear anything, in fact: just his own breathing and the gentle click of the line.

“You’re having trouble moving on, mate, but you can stay here for as long as you like,” he heard Ted say. “So just pick one. Emma now or Emma then? I don’t mean to be funny, but I’ve got other people… you know? There are other callers, and I’m the only operator.”

Click, click, click.

The receiver dropped with a resounding clang; he hung up on Ted and stared into the damp, cool darkness, holding out his arms. No hallway, no kitchen, no telephone table. He couldn’t even be sure there was a floor beneath him. He was nowhere, but he wasn’t alone—he couldn’t be. With a breaking voice, he croaked, “I’m here.” The goosebumps subsided the second he felt her warm hands touch him. She was crying, too. James put his arms around his wife in a way he hadn’t before and closed his eyes, letting his own tears sink into her hair.

We don’t always get the life we dreamed of, and there are difficult decisions to make along the way. James will be forever grateful for having the choice, even if it wasn’t one he wanted to make. Hopefully James and Emma can find some happiness as they spend the rest of their days in the Twilight Zone. 

Hang on, it’s Sunday! Are you looking for the latest instalment of The Spider? It’s here: