#911 dispatcher

[dizzydispatch]

A Night in the Life

Day 1

0652. Medical comes in just before shift change, meaning it’s a cluster and a half (sorry, Ms. Carol, the guys were fighting over whose turn it was to deal with you and your angina this time). I should be on my way home, but I've gotta stay late so I don't saddle the morning shift with the burden of a half-finished call.

In the middle of the mess, Officer Areyougoingforaworldrecordintrafficstops? (nice name you got there / thanks, it’s German) has to get one last traffic stop in. Hey, here's an idea. If a medical call is currently being dispatched, instead of making me juggle that and your unnecessary traffic stops-- I don't know, maybe go to it?

0734. Thank you for threatening to pull me over for my broken tail light on my way into work tonight, Officer Hardass. I can’t even tell if you’re kidding or not. Guess I better go to the nearest auto parts store and replace my brake light in the freezing cold. 

0812. Good thing I did it here in the store parking lot before I left, because you guys sold me the wrong bulb. Oh, you don’t have the one I need? Great. Can I get that in writing for Hardass? Also, I was shivering so hard that when I tried to take the ill-fitting one out that I dropped it and it broke. But at least I’ve got the rest of the day to myself. Right?

828. Oops, I forgot that I agreed to tutor my GED student today. Was expecting to have the rest of the day, but hey, it’s for a good cause. I still have all afternoon to sleep and shower. 

1100. Call from my Lieutenant. Did I want today’s eve shift for overtime? I jumped for it. Eves are my favorite shift, after all, and every overtime shift that I put straight towards my student loans brings me 0.01083% closer to financial freedom.

1101. Realized that now I had to be back at the station in four hours, and we’re in the middle of a quiz. Too polite to kick my pupil out mid-quiz, I silently resign myself to not getting a shower today. 

1205. Finally, bed. Two blissful hours of--

1415. GOD that alarm is loud. Gotta get up and haul ass. No time to primp, just throw a bandana on, fresh uniform— aaaaand it’s damp.

Day 2

1500. Freezing My Butt Off Because My Uniform is WET and Dispatch is COLD.

1655. Remembered that as the dispatcher, I’m in charge of the dispatch office, and therefore I control the thermostat. Cranks heat. 

1938. Relentlessly mocked by Lieutenant about keeping Dispatch a sauna.

1941: Retaliated by playing up the cold symptoms related to an ongoing, non-contagious sinus infection, then fake sneezing on said (germaphobic) Lieutenant.

1956: Noise complaint from a guy whose neighbors are watching a movie "so loudly it sounds like World War Four in there." (I'm sorry, did I miss World War Three somehow? Any particular reason we jump right to four?)

2056: I should make some coffee. I sure hope the coffee machine isn't-

2057:

2143. Where’s Officer Goingforarecord when you need him? At least the constant traffic stops would be something to keep me awake. I guess the fact that the sun was out helped me forget that three in the afternoon to a night shift person is like everyone else's three in the morning.

2300:

0000: Is it seriously only midnight?

0100:

0200:

0300:

0400: My favorite officer to chat with has decided to let me talk his ear off. While I’d like to believe I am simply that good company, I also suspect that it’s because my mindless chatter is impossible to sleep through. He looks about as tired as I feel.

0500: After talking pretty much nonstop for an hour, my voice hurts. But if I stop, I’ll lose the momentum and adrenaline of a mostly one-sided conversation about the relative benefits of being a bandana girl. Sure, it’s not exactly a runway-worthy fashion statement, but can you tell how long it’s been since I washed my hair? 

0549: I wonder if this would make an interesting blog entry? Dispatch: A Night in the Life. 

0601: Should I at least format it into essay style? 

0636: Too tired. Transcript will have to suffice.

0639: I swear I know how to spell the word lieutenant, Mrs. Overton, my dearest seventh grade English teacher. I even use the pneumonic you taught us: lie-to-u-about-ten-ants. I’m just so tired, my brain won’t cooperate. (I won’t even tell you how many times it took me to spell pneumonic.)

0646: Wait, why would an officer lie about ants? Do we have ants in the station???

0649: I guess after the mouse that Dave’s mousetrap caught, a few ants shouldn’t be too much concern. 

0651: Almost time to...

0652: You have got to be kidding me, Carol.

[mudskipper001]

some days you listen to someone dying on the phone and know you can’t do anything to help them.

other days you listen as their loved one tries to breath life back into them, knowing that it won’t help because they’re already gone.

some days you listen to a terrified child and hope and pray someone will get there before this precious one is traumatized anymore.

some days you tell your caller help is coming as fast as they can but it wasn’t fast enough.

some days you listen to the grief and anguish of losing someone and all you can do is be there and listen to them cry.

[aliterarydumpsterfire]

Magical 911 Dispatch - Tales from the Console Part 2

The comm center had buzzed like a busy hive all day. All available units out on every call, and every call was a disaster. Denla was frazzled. Maybe more than frazzled, but who wasn’t? She keyed up to her comm crystal again. 

“Checking for an available unit for a code 3 response at 44 Fraternity Drive, Unit 954 is requesting a second for an Oracle Disturbance.” It took effort to not finish the transmission with a grumble of “damn kids!”, but she managed not to. 44 Fraternity Drive was the Divinity Fraternity house for the undergrad mage academy, and one that should have been shut down years ago if police visits were any indication.

With every unit on a call, she was going to have to pull from somewhere, even though every event on her console scroll was a priority 1… After a moment she decided to pull from one of the events that should be close to clearing by now… 

The comm crystal sparkled and twirled as the sounds of shuffling and running amplified in her ear. “Central from 928, requesting one more!” Another?!

For Pete’s sake! That was the unit she was going to reassign! Denla bit back a curse and checked her scroll to confirm his location. “928 requesting one more for his Wand Offense at Sorcerer’s Grove, 9986 Grove Lane. 954 requesting a second for an oracle disturbance at 44 Castle Drive, requesting code 3 response. 944, are you direct?” 

The last part was for the field supervisor, who today was her least favorite sergeant. He liked to keep his radio turned down at inopportune times. Are you direct? was less a polite question of ‘did you hear all that?’ and more of a  HEY, ARE YOU PAYING ATTENTION?!

“Direct. Enroute to 954. Check for an available unit from Thoroughfare Patrol, please.” Came the curt response.

She shot back a little sassy retort in her head. Yeah, I bet you were. But it was too busy to waste time being sassy. She had calls to make. 

Just as her comm crystal started to swirl with numbers she dialed, though, a voice made her stop. 

“912 enroute to 928’s call.” A bit of feedback from a spare radio screeched feedback from someone’s office down the hall. 

Out of pure habit Denla replied ‘Copy!’ and repeated the unit’s traffic over the comm, but it took a moment for her to realize… she had no idea who 912 was. She hopped up in her seat. 

“Hey, uhh, Gnash?” 

“WHAT?” Her supervisor’s voice sent the room physically trembling. The ogre was in rare form with his grumbling this evening. Denla snatched her comm crystal out of the air before it nearly careened into the next console’s. Gnash was clearly not having a good day either. He was filling in on phones for the evening since Luna called in sick. 

“Hey, uhh… who’s 912?”

“I am.” It wasn’t Gnash who answered, though. A rumbling voice that didn’t shake the whole room continued. “You’d best remember, dispatch. 912 is your Paladin Knight Captain for Silver Precinct 7.” The words were stern but carried a tone of amusement as the captain emerged from his office. He towered in the hallway, holding his badge in the air for her to see. 

“Oh!” Denla peeked over her scroll console, agape. “Oh! Captain Dragoran!” 

Dangit Denla, now you’ve done it!, she thought, coloring in embarrassment.

“You forgot my badge number, Denla.” Despite how annoyed at herself she was, relief flooded to her with his chuckle. “Maybe you forgot I worked here?” 

 She almost shot back a reply but he was disappearing out the door, holstering his service wand and vest.

Without any time to spare to laugh at herself, Denla refocused on her status icons at the console’s scroll. A couple units had cleared themselves from older calls without advising over the radio. She busied herself with sending their paperwork to the transcribing goblin, anxiously waiting the couple of moments before the captain would arrive on scene. 

“Center from 928. Civil issue, 10-8.” Perfect. She checked 928’s call scroll. For a unit that had recently requested another unit, he sure wrapped it up quickly. With a lacquered fingertip she flicked through the notes, chuckling. 

Coupla kids with a crone’s stick. Stick returned to crone.

So much for the ‘Wand Offense’ it’d originally been called in as, and the request for backup.

She looked up anxiously as the comm crystal lit up again.

“Center, show 928 enroute to 954’s call.” She confirmed his traffic, and then heard the unit she’d been waiting for.

“912 on scene. Units stable.” Even better. She breathed another sigh of relief, but it wasn’t for long.

“Center, call over to the Academy. Have them get some Campus Aurors over here. We’ve got a full-fledged eldritch… thing… here.” Aaaand there it was. Just the news no one wanted to hear. 

The room trembled. “Awww, come on!” Gnash complained. He was half out of his chair, coffee mug in hand. 

“Hey, I got this,” Denla laughed. She snatched her comm crystal before it collided with the one across from her and started dialing. 

“Mage Academy Public Safety, this is Serena.” She recognized the answerer’s musical voice immediately– they’d gotten certified together.

“Hey girl,” she started. “Your kiddos are real smart tonight.”

Serena groaned. “What did they do?” 

“I’ve got units, including the captain, over at the frat house trying to contain a full-fledged eldritch horror. You think you can send some aurors over?”

“No problem! I’ll get ‘em goin’!” She could hear the scroll of the other dispatcher scratch furiously on the other end of the line.

“Ugh. Undergrads.” 

Serena’s voice brimmed with annoyance. “You’re telling me. This is the third time this week. What is it about Spring Break that makes kids want to summon otherworldly beings?” 

Denla laughed. “You’re welcome to join the Big Time with us over here when you get sick of drunk under-mages and broom unlocks.” Gnash was returning from the break room with his coffee cup, filtering amazing aromas her direction, but also scowling. She sank back into her seat just a little to avoid the scowl. Her boss was famous for his searing temper. “Gotta go, byeeeee!” She keyed up her comm stone again. “Units out at the Divinity Fraternity, Campus has aurors enroute.” 

Despite her always teasing Serena about joining the “Big Time” by getting hired on at the regional dispatch center, Denla couldn’t deny there was an allure to not working with her supervisor. Sure, the work was slower, but at least she wasn’t constantly having to keep her comm crystal from being knocked out of orbit. She considered the application in her console drawer again. It was already filled out, safely underneath some policy binders.

Without warning Gnash appeared over her scroll. 

Well, no hiding from that ugly mug scowling now. He wasn’t really that ugly, as far as ogres go, but the scowl ruined any approachability he may have had in regular life. Denla had never seen him without one though, so she wouldn’t know. Until now. 

His face split into a huge toothy grin. He suddenly looked… warmer… despite his sallow olive green skin. In his enormous hands he extended a second smaller cup of coffee.

“Captain texted me. Said you might need this.” He sat it on the warming stone on her console. 

He started to turn away, but paused. “Oh, and. Good job today. That part is from me.” The ogre ambled away, chuckling. 

Denla took a cautious sip. It was strong, like any self respecting ogre made it, like it’d been brewed twice.. It was just what she needed. He told me I did a good job. She closed the drawer, leaving the application untouched. 

Maybe Gnash wasn’t so bad after all. Some days weren’t so bad here in the Big Time. Without another thought to the application, she sipped her coffee happily and finished out her notes for the captain’s call and sent off a note to the unit’s broom displays. 

You guys had better take pictures this time, I wanna see this thing before it hits the evening news!

[frangipani-wanderlust]

Dispatch, this is Fran.

it’s crazy how i don’t know what any of you do for school/uni/work? who are you guys outside of tumblr? what do you work as?? 

[artisticdesigns-world]

Hello everyone! If you want the shirt, please write "done" in the comments

[lethargicspacepotato]

You're not ready to dispatch unless you have your emotional support selection of drinks and the remainder of your daytime pills.

[warpedpuppeteer]

"Eddie was never gay". Eddie worked in the dispatch building and immediately got into a petty passive aggressive territory bitch fight with Josh, the other gay man in the team. Gay recognises gay <3

[lethargicspacepotato]

No one asked for this, but I gotta share.

I'm a 911 dispatcher and had a call where someone's friend was on fire. Everyone was so panicked they did, legit, forget about stop, drop, and roll. I got them to do the thing and remove the clothing that was previously on fine. Guy wasn't burned that badly, so that was good.

Long story short, maybe teach people both how to balance a checkbook, and stop, drop, and roll.

[ozma914]

Say happy National Public Safety Telecommunicators Week three times fast

 April has sucked royally thus far, and I haven't felt very funny (as opposed to not being funny and thinking I am). So I'm celebrating National Public Safety Telecommunicators Week the way they used to do summer television: With a re-run.)

I've been taking 911 calls for so long that they were originally 91 calls. Well, it seems that way. It turns out National Public Safety Telecommunicators Week predates my full-time employment in the emergency services by ten years, and can we possibly shorten that name down a bit? By the time I finish saying the title, the week is over. I'm going to call it ... NPSTW. I know somebody who got their Bachelor Degree at NPSTW, although they've since married. Go Bulldogs! Anyway, I started with the Noble County EMS as a seventeen year old trainee in late 1979, and joined our volunteer fire department on my birthday in 1980. But it wasn't until December, 1991, that I took an actual paying job in that area, as a jail officer with the Noble County Sheriff Department. Within a few years I got tired of getting sick all the time. Seriously: Those inmates breathed so many germs on me, I thought I was in a sequel to The Andromeda Strain. So I went into dispatch, trading physical ailments for mental ones.

  Unknown to me, way back in 1981 Patricia Anderson, of the Contra Costa County Sheriff's Office in California, came up with this idea to give tribute to, um, NPST, or as I'm going to call them, dispatchers. Yes, I know "dispatchers" doesn't tell the whole story, but my typing fingers are tired. I've been here--let me update--about 32 years, and dispatched for most of those. So long that when I started we had only one computer, to get information such as license plate and driver's license returns, using DOS. Get your grandparents to explain DOS to you. My wife points out that back then we received 911 calls by smoke signal, while carving notes onto stone tablets. I'm fairly sure she was kidding. I've been here so long I could retire. Full retirement pay! Sadly, I haven't figured out how to make up  for insurance and the difference in income, but I'm hoping my book sales will pick up. (Note: They have, but not enough.) Also, it would be tough learning to sleep through the night. Things really were easier back then, when it comes to learning the job. Our computer systems do make it easier to help people these days, but astronauts don't train as much as our rookies do. Spaceship vehicle pursuits are faster, though. The truth is, I'm not sure I could make it through training, if I started today. Instead of one small computer screen,  I'm looking at seven flat screen monitors, not including the security and weather screens. Our report was written (in pen) on a piece of paper about half the size of a standard sheet. Today we have a Computer Aided Dispatch (CAD), radio screen, phone screen, mapping screen, recorder screen, 911 texting screen, and a screen to keep track of everyone's duty status. We also have a screen to keep track of screens. Those are just the ones we use regularly.

I found this waiting for me when I got into work Monday. They get me.

  I'm pretty burned out at this point, and some of our calls can get rough. I have all the symptoms of PTSD; some of them include:

Experiencing a life-threatening event, like when the dispatch pop machine ran out of Mountain Dew; Flashbacks and nightmares, such as reliving the night we ran out of Mountain Dew; Avoidance, such as staying away from places that don't have ... well, you know. Depression or irritability, which I just now realized might be related to consuming too much caffeine; Chronic pain ... wow, that one hit me like a pulled back muscle. I checked off each and every box: avoidance, numbing, flashbacks, being on edge, overeating ... HEY! Who the HECK took my meatball sub out of the break room fridge! I'm HUNGRY! Where was I? Oh, yeah: Why the heck am I still here? Here's the thing. I've worked in retail; in factories; as a security guard and jail officer; as a radio DJ; I once made two bucks an hour growing worms for fishing lure. And for all the emotional turmoil, all the mental stress, all the physical ailments, all the days when I wanted to scream, and so desperately wanted to NOT go back into work the next shift ... Dispatching is still the best full time job I've ever had. Of course, I'm not a full time writer, yet. For that I'd only have to deal with one computer screen.

Wait, am I seriously the only male who works here? Anyway, thank you to the Town of Albion for the thank you.

http://markrhunter.com/ https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"

[mydentis]

Beautiful high quality design for T-shirt, hat, cap, poster, bag etc. Beautiful design that you like and can customize as a gift for your loved ones and family, you can find it in many products in my shop, always be optimistic

[whollyjoly]

look we all want buck in tommys hoodie....

but i raise you a tommy who accidentally grabbed bucks hoodie and walks into harbour only to have lucy laugh so hard she falls out of her chair

[dizzydispatch]

Deaf Americans and 9-1-1

It was sweet that he thought of me when he heard another police department over our region's shared police frequency, requesting the assistance of an officer fluent in American Sign Language with the arrest of a Deaf individual. Maybe the appropriate response would have been something along the lines of, hey, neat!

But I didn't think it was neat, and I still don't. In fact, it bothered me. the official symbol for ASL interpreters, based on the sign for "interpreting"

"That's super illegal," I texted Gabe back. "They can’t use an officer. A Deaf person has the right to a certified interpreter."

"Interesting," he sent back. "That's good to know."

But I wasn't done. "Just think about it," I continued. "If their Miranda rights aren’t read, correctly and in full, the entire arrest is bonk. How much worse do you think it could be if an un-licensed cop plays interpreter and screws something up? Even if they don’t, there’s no accountability. It’s a really risky game to play, as a department. You don't fuck with the ADA unless you want a serious lawsuit."

In 1990, then-President George H. W. Bush signed the ADA into law. The Americans with Disabilities Act was meant to protect individuals with a wide array of disabilities, a category that includes the deaf and hard-of-hearing.

“The ADA broadly protects the rights of individuals with disabilities in employment, access to State and local government services, places of public accommodation, transportation, and other important areas of American life. The ADA also requires newly designed and constructed or altered State and local government facilities, public accommodations, and commercial facilities to be readily accessible to and usable by individuals with disabilities."

There are a few different ways that dispatchers are expected to comply with ADA expectations. The first method is using TTY technology, with which our 9-1-1 systems are required to comply. There's also text-to-911 services, some of which work better than others, and silent call procedures, in which a party unable to unwilling to speak aloud can still communicate with dispatchers. 

But even after the call, there are a thousand different ways that a deaf person can be failed by emergency responders. From police interactions to neglect in the courtroom, the issue is broad and systemic, and fixing it is going to require more than just attention and awareness.  

For a d/Deaf or hard-of-hearing person, the right to an interpreter is probably the most important right protected by the ADA. After all, the primary barrier of deafness is communication. How are you supposed to know what you're in trouble for when you're arrested, or follow along in your own court case, or tell the police what happened if you're a victim of a crime?

The ADA is supposed to protect against these sorts of injustices, but unfortunately, as demonstrated by the fact that we heard one of our own local PDs requesting an officer with ASL knowledge over the radio, the follow-through just isn't always there. The resources allocated to teaching law enforcement how to deal with individuals with disabilities are severely lacking. As Professor of Sociology Alex Vitale of Brooklyn College states, “Police compliance with ADA provisions is pretty poor across the board. It’s clearly not a priority for a lot of police leaders." 

In some places, in spite of the ADA, violations happen all the time. In 2012, St. Louis police tasered a deaf man on the side of the road, only for it to turn out he was having a diabetic emergency. Then in 2014, an elderly deaf man was dragged from his car and beaten by officers, before being charged with resisting an arrest by the same department that cleared the officers of all wrongdoing. A month later, a deaf man had been similarly beaten, tased, and choked out after being mistaken for a burglar. The officers had seen him signing, trying to communicate with them, and believed the movements to be signs of aggression, and had responded in kind.

This problem has been addressed by independent journals, such as The American Civil Liberties Union and The Atlantic, as well as in a humorous episode of Full Frontal with Samantha Bee, guest-starring Deaf activist and entertainer Nyle DiMarco.

However, there hasn't been much coverage of D/deaf interactions with law enforcement in the mainstream media, with the exception of those reports where things do get out of hand. Like with many issues of civil rights, pleas for systemic change continue to go unaddressed, or are only addressed after tragedy occurs. More often than not, too, these are underwhelming measures that smack of PR damage control, and are unlikely to maintain traction after the initial outcry dies down.

There is a reason the law requires anyone who is serving as an interpreter in any official capacity to be certified. Without those protections, children may be coerced into interpreting for parents, which opens up all sorts of issues, both for the child and for the efficacy of services being provided.

Many of the same issues arise when unqualified third parties are asked or compelled to serve in the same way. Interpreters are held accountable to standards of care, much in the same as their doctors and judges are. They are trained in the language's nuance, in skills for effectively communicating complex ideas to and for their Deaf clients. Furthermore, there is a code of ethics, compliance to which can help ensure privacy, regulate appropriate intervention, and serve as a framework for professionalism.

Of course, a national interpreter shortage is part of the issue. In college, I chose the ASL Linguistics track, which focuses on the science of language with ASL as a model, rather than the ASL Interpreting track. This was a decision that many of my peers and even some professors expressed disappointment in, as there is such a profound disparity between the needs of the community and the available resources. I chose dispatch over working directly in the Deaf community, but my background both through my education and in the jobs I worked between the years of 2018 and 2023 has given me insights that I assume the department making the request did not have.

However, as a hearing person with no experience trying to run a law enforcement agency, I am far from qualified to decide what is and is not an acceptable risk. I don't know what was going on at that department. I don't know what kind of attempts may have been made to locate a certified interpreter before they put out that request over the radio. What I do know is that it's still unacceptable. 

Unfortunately, I don't have the answer. I'm just one dispatcher, in one small-town PSAP, with one set of ideals that I wish I could see reflected in the big wide world outside. But I can write, and so I do. I write to inform, to entertain, to commiserate with you, dear reader, dear stranger. I write in hopes that someday, somebody with more power than me understands what needs to be done, and sees it through. 

In the meantime, we can write. We can write to our representatives, calling them to action. We can write to police departments out of which atrocities are born, and demand justice for those wronged. We can write, and we can speak up. We can learn sign language and support organizations that support our local disabled communities. We can listen to the voices of those who experience the world a little differently to us, and maybe, just maybe, we'll be part of the force of change that makes the world a better place for all.

For Americans who want to make a difference, to find and contact your state representative, visit the U. S. House of Representatives website and search by your state and district. The same can be done for state senators here. The National Association of the Deaf has a great letter template that you can use as well. If you are able to and wish to donate financially to local or global Deaf activism groups, the bottom of this Wikipedia page contains a list of organizations from all over the world.

[peggingeddiediaz]

Eddie Diaz forgetting to log out of his work twitter account part 132/?

[aliterarydumpsterfire]

Magical 911 Dispatch - Tales from the Console Part 1

“Hey Gnash,” I said as I passed my supervisor. “How’s shift?”

He harumphed a giant sized harumph my direction. I might have felt the whole of the comm center building tremble a little.

 “That bad, huh?”

“It’s a full moon. What more is there to say?” The center trembled a little more from his grousing as he keyed up his crystal. “Units 956 and 947, copy a transfiguration with injuries.”

That was my cue to sashay with a bit more haste to my console. A long shift could make Gnash an ogre in any situation. I mean. He is one. But full moons are a whole other stalk of beans. 

Sinking into my chair at my favorite console, I took a long sip of my coffee for a fleeting moment of zen. It passed all too quickly. 

Every other report crystal was lit up at the consoles around me, and the faint chime sound meant there were more calls holding, too. Time to plug in. I set my mug on the warming stone and swiped my spell chip over the headset dongle.

As if calls waiting weren’t enough to ruin my moment of zen, my partner Luna was bound to. The tip of her conical hat waggled behind her scroll screens, clearly frustrated. Her quill scratched out a transcription that was surely of a caller who hadn’t taken a breath since the fall of Rome.

“Ma’am! Ma’am! MAAA’AM!” Luna practically shouted into her mic. A couple heavy thumps meant she was banging on her desk in exasperation at her caller. “Ma’am, I need you to listen to me. Is the effigy changing color? Ma’am?” She huffed and the thumping sound came again. 

“Hung up on you?” I asked.

“Of course. Nothing like calling Tilde-Star-Star and then hanging up on the crone trying to help you.”

“Another goblin screaming ‘just get them here’?” 

“Mmmmmhm.” Her annoyance could have curdled butterbeer. The sparkling gem twirling above her scroll twirled faster as she hit voicemail on redial. “Well of course.” The gem suspended above her workspace winked out as she flicked the scroll over to Gnash. 

“You’re killing me!” The room rumbled with the boss’s displeasure as he stared at the new scroll. 

“Nope. That’s why they pay you the big ingots!” Luna shot back his direction, winking at me. I hid my chuckle behind another sip of coffee.

Luna’s wide-brimmed headwear popped up over her scroll as she bounced forward to squint at me. “Hey, aren’t you off tonight?”

“I was.” I sighed heavily. “But Jakub called out at dusk. Full moon.”

“Ohhhh, bummer.” She didn’t sound disappointed for me, though. In fact I would stake my first wand on the bet that she was glad she wouldn’t be the only one on calltaking tonight. I didn’t mind. I’d prefer to work with Luna than some of the night walkers I could have been stuck with.

“Yep.”

She wrinkled her nose thoughtfully. “You’d think he’d take the potion for–”

“Iiiii know. But you know how New Age werebeasts are. Anyway, I don’t mind padding my coin purse and it’s supposed to be mostly cloudy tonight.”

“Mmmmmmhm”. Her response brimmed with skepticism. 

My crystal shot out a beam of scarlet light accompanied by soft chimes. “So it begins.” I groaned and tapped the crystal, now blinking furiously. “Tilde-Star-Star, where is your emergency?” My quill floated up, scratching out the start of a new call for service.

A distinctly thick accent sputtered in my ear. “Forbidden Forest, Grove Seventy Seven.”

“Okay, and what’s going on there?” Nothing good, I would bet. The Forbidden Forest is dicey to visit at the middle of the month, let alone the end. 

The translator critter on it’s pedestal protested as I gave it a little nudge and raised my eyebrow. It’s feathered antennae twitched some wordless backtalk at me. Translating critters were notoriously dodgy in the twilight hours. Who could blame them though, really? 

The voice coming through my headset coughed nervously, but was clearer this time. “So, uh… my friend and I were totally not doing anything illegal but my friend has Witches Cough and I’ve been feeling pretty ill myself.”

I sat up a little straighter. “How long has your friend been sick?”

“I dunno, maybe… a couple hours?” Gnomes. Always can trust them to wait until it’s too late to call. “Not to worry, we’ll get some healers headed your way,” I reassured the voice. “Are there any spells or hazards we need to know about?”

The answer tumbled out in a barely intelligible rush, despite my critter’s efforts. “Well I think we might have set off some tricky charms here, because one of my other friends here is running from a really, really mad pixie right now, and I think she’s summoning her family.”

GAH! GNOMES! 

I wanted to punt the crystal. My fingers itched to pound my desk like Luna had only moments before, but I managed to remain still. Why does no one lead with the most important details?!

Barely containing my irritation at the caller, I flicked the scroll flying away to Gnash with more force than strictly necessary. He rumbled again. 

“It’s gonna be one of the nights, Gnash!” I called as he started to key up his crystal.

“What did I tell ya!” The floor shook a little harder.

That’s when I really started to regret coming in. All the console gems started to spin and pulse colors at once. 

“Looks like the clouds cleared up,” Luna cackled.

 I swore a half-uttered curse under my breath. “Just my luck!” 

Reluctantly I tapped my crystal and recoiled as screams of a banshee hit my ear. 

“Ma’am!” I started, biting back another curse. As the wailing continued I made a mental note to come down with potion poisoning on the next full moon. A little case of Mutation Sickness could be easily faked. 

More crystals chiming interrupted the thought. Banshee or no, I was sure of one thing.

It was the last time I’d pick up a werewolf’s shift during their time of the month. 

[bibvck]

And, uh, and whatever happens... I just need you to know that... that I didn't give up, okay? That I fought. I fought to the end. I fought. I fought to come home to you, okay?

2x03: Help Is Not Coming 8x02: When the Boeing Gets Tough...

[hotcinnamonsunset]

linda's work wives club💼