The Switchboard of Destiny

”Thank you for calling Neohomes Real Estate Management Company, how may I direct your call?”

“Transferring, thank you for calling.”

“Thank you for calling Neohomes Real Estate Management Company, how may I direct your call?”

“Transferring, thank you for calling.”

It was shaping up to be one of those days. The kind where the blinking lights on the switchboard seemed to multiply every time Liza blinked. The Toy Lupe had long ago mastered the art of answering calls without really thinking about it.

After twenty-two years, muscle memory did most of the heavy lifting.

“Thank you for calling Neohomes Real Estate Management Company, how may I direct your call?”

“Transferring, thank you for calling.”

Liza rubbed her temples. She’d barely had a sip of her morning borovan before the phones started ringing nonstop. Something about a new batch of Neohomes in Shenkuu going on sale. Or maybe it was a plumbing issue in Roo Island. Or both. It all blurred together after a while.

She glanced at the switchboard.

Every single light was blinking.

Every. Single. One.

“That can’t be right,” she muttered.

The lights blinked faster.

“Thank you for calling Neohomes Real Estate Management Company, how may I direct your…”

The switchboard let out a BZZZZT so loud Liza nearly fell out of her chair.

Then the lights stopped blinking.

Then they came back with a vengeance and all turned purple.

“Purple?” Liza whispered. “Since when are the lights on the switchboard purple?”

Before she could investigate, the switchboard began to vibrate. Not a gentle hum.

A full-on, rattling, shaking, this-thing-is-about-to-grow-legs vibration.

“Oh no you don’t,” Liza scolded, as if the switchboard were a misbehaving Petpet.

“I am not filing another maintenance ticket.”

Especially not after the last time. It took longer to figure out the new ticketing system then it did for maintenance to get there AND fix the problem.

The switchboard ignored her plea and began to glow.

“Absolutely not,” Liza said, backing away. “I am on my lunch break in…” she checked the clock “…forty-three minutes, and I am not doing this today!”

The switchboard pulsed once.

Twice.

Three times.

Then

FWOOOOSH

A column of shimmering light shot upward, and Liza felt herself being pulled forward as though someone had grabbed her by the collar of her sensible work blouse.

“Oh, COME ON!”

And then she was gone.

When the world stopped spinning, Liza found herself standing in a vast circular chamber made entirely of polished crystal. The walls hummed softly, like a chorus of tuning forks. Floating in the air were hundreds—no, thousands—of tiny glowing orbs, each blinking in a familiar rhythm.

Blink. Blink. Blink.

“Don’t tell me,” Liza said flatly. “These are switchboard calls.”

A voice echoed from somewhere above her.

“WELCOME, GUARDIAN OF CONNECTIONS.”

Liza groaned. “Not this nonsense again.”

A gleaming figure descended from the ceiling, an ethereal Aisha made of starlight and static, wearing what appeared to be a robe woven from telephone cords.

“Who are you supposed to be?” Liza asked.

“I am the Keeper of the Switchboard of Destiny,” the Aisha intoned. “And you,

Liza of Neohomes Real Estate Management Company, have been chosen.”

Liza crossed her arms. “I am not falling for this again. Last time someone told me

I was ‘chosen,’ I ended up reading moldy books in a damp tower for hours.”

The Aisha blinked. “Yes. That was a clerical error.”

“A what?”

“A clerical error. The Watchtower Guardianship Department and the Destiny

Routing Division share a filing cabinet. Things sometimes get…mixed.”

Liza pinched the bridge of her nose. “So what do you want from me now?”

The Aisha gestured to the floating orbs. “The Switchboard of Destiny routes all magical calls, messages, and omens across Neopia. But something has gone terribly wrong. The calls are backed up. The lines are tangled. The omens are being delivered to the wrong recipients. A Meepit received a prophecy meant for

King Altador and King Altador received a prophecy meant for a Krumb. That went about as well as you would expect.”

Liza stared at the orbs. “And you think I can fix this?”

“You do have unmatched experience in call routing.”

“I mostly route calls for pets looking to buy real estate.”

“Exactly,” the Aisha said, as if this were the most profound statement in the universe.

Liza sighed. “Fine. What do you want me to do?”

The Aisha pointed to a massive crystal console in the centre of the room. It looked suspiciously like her switchboard, if her switchboard had been enchanted by a

Faerie with a flair for the dramatic.

“Simply answer the calls.”

Liza approached the console. One orb blinked insistently.

She tapped it.

“Thank you for calling the Switchboard of Destiny. How may I direct your…”

A booming voice roared, “THE SKY IS FALLING!”

Liza blinked. “And where would you like that message delivered?”

“UH…THE WEATHER FAERIE, OBVIOUSLY?”

“Transferring, thank you for calling.”

She tapped another orb.

“Thank you for calling the Switchboard of Destiny. How may I direct your call?”

A whispery voice replied, “I have a vision of a giant omelette consuming Tyrannia.”

“Is this urgent?”

“…I’m not sure.”

“Transferring to the Department of Unconfirmed Omelette-Related Concerns. Thank you for calling.”

Orb after orb, call after call, Liza worked her way through the chaos. Prophecies, warnings, magical mishaps, cryptic riddles, she routed them all with the same calm efficiency she used at her desk back home.

But the orbs kept coming. It was nonstop madness, and every call was seemingly urgent.

A frantic Kougra shouted, “My shadow is trying to unionise!”

A Faerie shrieked, “Someone enchanted my teapot, and now it won’t stop giving advice!”

A deep, rumbling voice whispered, “I have misplaced an entire volcano.”

Liza didn’t even blink. “Transferring to Lost and Found.”

The Keeper of the Switchboard hovered nearby, looking increasingly impressed.

“You are remarkable,” he breathed.

“As per my usual. I am underpaid,” Liza corrected.

Hours, or what felt like hours, passed. The blinking lights began to slow. The room grew calmer. The humming softened.

Finally, only one orb remained.

It blinked lazily, as though it had all the time in the world.

Liza tapped it.

“Thank you for calling the Switchboard of Destiny. How may I direct your call?”

A familiar voice answered.

“Hi, yes, I’m calling because my Neohome mailbox is full and I can’t seem to delete the older messages.”

Liza froze.

“Wait…is this an actual Neohomes Real Estate Management Company call?”

The Aisha floated over, looking sheepish. “Ah. Yes. The lines may have…crossed.”

Liza glared. “Send me back, now.”

“With pleasure.”

Liza blinked.

She was back at her desk.

The switchboard was back to normal. The lights were normal. Her borovan was still warm.

“Thank you for calling Neohomes Real Estate Management Company, how may I direct your call?”

“Transferring, thank you for calling.”

She shook her head. Liza was starting to think she needed some time away from this place. Her daydreams were really becoming quite vivid. Maybe a vacation, she thought.

But not right now. Now, she had to focus. After all, She had important work to do here at the Neohomes Real Estate Management Company.

     The End.