Ruby
Cell
by
Richard Fox
Little wonder the old man wanted
to part exchange it for a new model. It didnÍt have MP3 or polyphonic
ringtones. It was unable to take instant photos, let alone videos,
and certainly didnÍt have WebÍnÍWalk. To be honest, if not for MobileMadnessÍs
policy of accepting any make or model in its objective to sell new
phones, I wouldnÍt have touched it.
Did they really make mobile phones like this and, if so, who in
their right minds would have actually bought one? It was the size
of a housebrick, and probably as heavy. I decided the old man must
have been Alexander Graham Bell himself, bringing in the very phone
he had made the first call from.
I depressed the button in the top to see whether the battery had
any juice left.
As it began searching for services I saw it had one bar of life
remaining. Just enough, I guessed, for one final text message before
it died, probably forever as I didnÍt recognise the socket for charging
it and doubted any still existed.
ïRubyCell,Í the display screen finally announced.
That was a new one on me. IÍd been working at MobileMadness for
years but never come across that network.
I pressed the largest button above the bank of numbers, expecting
to see some kind of a menu. Instead it informed me that I had one
new message.
ïMessage from RubyCell,Í it said. Once again I held down the large
button to open it. |
‘You have located RubyCell.
To receive your welcome gift send a text message to 3210 and the
word “CLAIM”’
Had it been my own phone I wouldn’t have risked it. There
are too many dodgy people around. You wouldn’t believe the
number of customers that come into our store complaining they’ve
been wiped of all their credit, or had had their phones locked forever.
As it wasn’t my phone, before I threw it into the dustbin
I decided to give it a go.
I shouldn’t have been surprised when, after sending my message,
nothing happened.
Besides, a couple of girls who had been weighing up the pros and
cons of a couple of hand-helds had finally made their minds up on
which they wanted – no doubt based on their virtues as fashion
accessories more than on the state-of-the-art features they offered
– and were waiting to be served. With a bit of gentle scaremongering
I guessed they would soon agree that it would be wise to take out
the exclusive platinum insurance package MobileMadness offered;
for which I cannot deny I would receive a generous commission.
A couple of customers later my interest in old man Bell’s
phone had evaporated, and it wasn’t until I was locking up
that I even remembered it, seeing it in my mind’s eye on the
counter by the till. I made a mental note to throw it out first
thing before a potential customer spotted it thinking he’d
mistakenly walked into an antique shop.
Next morning there it was. I didn’t expect it still to be
on, so was surprised to see the glow from its screen in the gloom.
I turned on the lights and the fluorescent bulbs flickered into
life.
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