the smuggler’s bible


The phone screen is a static object, completely unchanged during the four days that Caleb has been staring at it.

“Yo,” he says, grimacing. “Stupid. Who even says ‘yo’ anymore?”

The phone does not reply, and that’s the problem. (Really, it’s the fact that the phone is not displaying a reply from someone else using a different phone, which it has proven able to do reliably enough in the past that Caleb considers the absence convincing evidence that the awaited message does not exist. The situation has begun seriously to erode his self-confidence.)

“Maybe,” he mutters, “she’s taking a nap.”