This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.
The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Green-Fish4742 on 2023-06-27 11:18:19+00:00.
The scent of stale coffee and worn-out carpet mingled in the cold, fluorescent glow of the call center. There was something oppressive about the place in the middle of the night, a sort of unnatural silence that made the hum of computers and clack of keys seem magnified.
Suddenly, the monotony was interrupted by a bright, flashing 'Unknown' on my screen. A sigh escaped my lips. I reached for my headset.
"Tech Support, how can I assist you?" I asked, my voice slicing through the static-filled silence.
The man's voice that emerged was slow, careful. "Your third workstation from the left, does the 'W' key on the keyboard stick?"
My breath hitched. The workstation he referred to was currently empty. How could he know that? His voice continued, a stream of predictions flowing through the receiver, sending a chill down my spine.
"The server's going to crash tonight. And Sarah, the one with the blue-rimmed glasses, she's going to have a panic attack. Just watch."
Suddenly, the call was dead. I hung up, a cold feeling of dread coiling in my stomach. The office, previously mundane, felt like it was spiraling into an eerie nightmare. And when the server did crash that night, and Sarah did have her panic attack, my fears were confirmed.
From then on, my nights were haunted by the same routine - the call, the predictions, the helpless dread as the events unfolded with disturbing accuracy. Even as my own fear grew, I found myself inexplicably drawn to the uncanny, cryptic prophesies.
One particular evening, as I settled into my cubicle, the familiar dread washed over me as the 'Unknown' number flashed on my screen.
“Let me guess, another disaster waiting to happen?" I muttered into the microphone.
"Third cubicle in the last row, a drawer full of unauthorized company data. Tomorrow, she gets fired.”
My heart pounded. Lisa, the cheery girl who sat there, couldn't possibly be involved in anything like this. But the haunting accuracy of the past predictions left me on edge.
“Who are you?” I finally asked. The line went dead immediately, a chill running down my spine. The uncanny predictions had transformed the once mundane office into a stage for a horrifying drama.
My worst fears were confirmed when Lisa was fired the next day. The implications were terrifying - the mysterious caller seemed to have an omnipresent view of our lives. But I was determined to unravel the mystery, and confided in my friend Mark, a tech whizz.
The number traced back to an old company phone, registered to a guy named Brian. I vaguely remembered stories about Brian - a hard worker who had taken his own life. It was chilling, surreal. The office, once just a workplace, was morphing into something far more sinister.
One late night, my screen lit up again, the 'Unknown' flashing ominously.
“There’s a fire, a big one. Three people won’t make it out.”
The prediction was terrifying. Lives were at stake now. I had to act fast. I convinced Mark to stage a fake bomb threat. The evacuation worked, and the fire did break out. We had saved everyone, but the terror was far from over.
In the aftermath, I connected the pieces. The unknown caller was Brian, trapped in an afterlife of reliving the worst moments of his life, trying to break the cycle.
"Find my note, it’s...hidden..." Brian's voice crackled over the line before it went dead.
With Mark's help, I found a suicide letter in Brian's old cubicle, a grim confession that shed light on the darker aspects of our industry. I shared his story
In the weeks following Brian's last call, our call center started to shape up. We cut back on work hours, brought in counselors, and set up a hotline for anonymous complaints. It felt like we were on the right track, turning this haunted workspace into something healthy. Each new improvement made me proud, and I was optimistic, feeling like we had truly made a difference.
But each night, I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that the 'Unknown' caller might strike again. The ominous predictions had stopped, but in their place was a haunting silence that was almost as unsettling. Then, one night, my screen lit up again with that familiar, eerie 'Unknown' ID. Was Brian back?
My hands were shaking as I picked up. "Thank you," came the voice on the other end, sounding calm, maybe even at peace. "You've changed things. You've broken the cycle." And then the call ended, leaving me alone in the silent office.
After that, the calls completely stopped. The dread that used to keep me on edge was replaced by an uneasy calm. I continued working, relieved but puzzled. We had given Brian some kind of peace, something he hadn't been able to find in life.
Weeks turned into months, and life went on. The office started to feel less like a haunted house and more like a regular workplace. We had gone through a weird crisis together, and now we were working as a team to make our office a better place.
But then, on a cold winter night, just as I was about to head home, my phone lit up. The caller ID read 'Unknown.' My heart started pounding as I answered.
"I'm sorry," said a voice I didn't recognize, filled with fear. "The cycle...it's starting again."
Then the call ended, leaving me alone in the office, the silence echoing around me. Staring at the screen, a terrifying thought hit me. We had stopped one caller, but how many more were out there, desperate to reach out to us?