The Duck on Desk Nine

Emre started the night shift at ten o'clock. The call centre was cold and quiet. Forty desks stood in long rows. Only six of them had people.

Emre was nineteen. This was his second week. He worked for a water company. People called when a pipe broke or a tap did not stop.

He sat down at desk nine, by the window. Then he saw the duck.

It was a small yellow rubber duck. It sat next to his screen. Its beak was a little open.

"Is this yours?" Emre asked.

Wilf looked up from desk four. Wilf was the night leader. He had a big cup of coffee and a sleepy face.

"Not mine," Wilf said. "It was not there yesterday."

"Then who put it here?"

"No idea. People leave strange things in this room. Last month, it was a shoe."

Emre laughed. He picked up the duck. It was warm, like a cup of soup. On its bottom, in small black letters, was one word. It said, "Listen."

He put the duck back. Then he put on his headset and took his first call.

A woman said her kitchen floor was wet. Emre kept his voice calm.

"Look under the sink," he said. "Find the small tap on the pipe."

"I see it."

"Turn it to the right. Turn it all the way."

There was a short quiet. Then the woman said, "It stopped! Thank you!"

"You're welcome," Emre said. "A worker comes in the morning."

He wrote his notes. He took another call, and then another. The night went by slowly. At midnight, he ate a sandwich at his desk. The other people typed and talked in low voices.

At one o'clock, the duck squeaked.

Nobody touched it. Emre was sure of that. He turned his head, and the duck was still. Its black eyes shone in the light of the screen. Then a very small voice came out of it. It sounded like paper in the wind.

"The blue door," the voice said.

Emre looked around the room. Wilf read a magazine. The others had their headsets on. Nobody heard anything.

"Hello?" Emre said softly.

The duck said nothing more. He squeezed it. It made a normal squeak. He looked for a hole, a switch or a wire. There was nothing. He felt a little silly. He put the duck down and went back to work.

At three o'clock, every screen in the room went black.

The phones went quiet at the same time. It was like a big door closing. For a moment, nobody spoke.

"No, no, no," Wilf said. He stood up so fast that his chair fell over.

"What happened?" Emre asked.

"The phone system is down. The whole thing. Nobody can call us now."

Wilf took out his own mobile phone. He called the repair man and listened. His face grew more and more worried.

"Forty minutes," he said when he finished. "He lives far away."

"Forty minutes is a long time," said the woman at desk two.

"I know." Wilf rubbed his eyes. "A pipe may break in someone's house right now. They dial our number, and they hear nothing."

Everyone looked at the black screens. Nobody had an idea.

Emre turned to the duck. It sat next to his dead screen, small and yellow. His heart beat faster.

"The blue door," he said, very quietly.

"What?" said Wilf.

"Is there a blue door in this building?"

Wilf frowned. "At the end of the hall. It's the cleaners' cupboard. Why?"

"I'm not sure," Emre said. "Can I look?"

"Take a torch. The hall lights are off too." Wilf gave him a small torch from his drawer.

Emre picked up the duck without knowing why. He put it in his pocket.

The hall was long and dark. His shoes made a loud sound on the floor. At the end, there was a door with blue paint. The paint was old. Emre pulled the handle, and the door opened with a creak.

Inside, he saw brushes and boxes. On a low shelf sat a grey metal box. It was the size of a suitcase. All its small lights were dark.

He moved the torch along the floor. A thick black cable lay there. One end was not in the wall. It lay on the tiles like a sleeping snake.

"A cleaner hit it," he said to himself.

He knelt down. He pushed the plug into the wall as hard as he could. Click.

Nothing happened. The grey box stayed dark.

Emre looked at the duck. "Now what?" he asked.

The duck stayed silent. But on the front of the box, he saw a round button. It had a tiny picture of a moon. He pressed it and held it. One, two, three, four, five.

A green light came on. Then another. The box began to hum like a happy cat.

Far away, down the hall, a phone began to ring. Then another. Then ten more together.

Emre ran back with the torch jumping in his hand. The screens were bright again. Every desk had a light that flashed orange. Calls waited in a long line.

"You did it!" Wilf shouted. "How?"

"Later," Emre said. "A cable was out of the wall." He sat down, pulled on his headset and pressed a key.

"Water company. How can I help?"

A man was very worried. Water filled his bathroom. Emre told him where to find the tap. He told him to stay calm. Behind him, the whole room was busy again. Six people talked at once.

The calls did not stop until the sky outside grew pale. At six o'clock, the day workers came in. They had bags and loud voices. The night people yawned and put on their coats.

Wilf stopped at desk nine. He put his hand on the back of Emre's chair.

"I told the repair man about the cable," he said. "He says that is very strange. And you found it in five minutes."

"I was lucky," Emre said.

"Nobody is that lucky. How did you know?"

Emre took the duck from his pocket. He felt silly, but he said it anyway.

"It told me. At one o'clock. It said, 'The blue door.'"

Wilf looked at the duck for a long time. He did not laugh. He took it from Emre's hand and squeezed it. It squeaked, a normal squeak.

"It's only a duck," Wilf said slowly.

"I know."

"Then I'm going home to sleep." Wilf gave the duck back. At the door, he turned. "Bring it again tomorrow. Just in case."

Emre was alone at his desk. The window was full of pink light. He turned the duck over to look at the bottom once more.

The word "Listen" was gone. In the same small black letters, there was a new word.

It said, "Tomorrow."