“God’s merciful blessings,” I said.

“Next message,” the answering machine announced.

“God’s merciful blessings,” Palm said.

“Rödder here.” Mr. Rödder spoke very quickly because he knew the answering machine well. “It’s Monday evening, six fifty-seven. You left the store a few minutes ago. I’d like to let you know that I have decided to grant your request for time off this coming week as a rare exception—” and the answering machine cut him off. Then Frederik said, “It’s me.”

“Frederik,” I said.

“Don’t be alarmed, Luisa,” Frederik said. “I wanted to tell you—” The answering machine cut him off because it did not discriminate—everyone was equal in the eyes of this answering machine—and I was alarmed by Frederik’s request that I not be alarmed. He’s not coming, I thought. He’s about to tell me that he isn’t coming.

“Next message,” the answering machine announced.

“As I was saying, I wanted to tell you there’s been a change in plans.” And the answering machine cut him off and said, “Your connection is maintained,” then announced the next message. And I thought, Frederik’s not coming; the connection has not been maintained. And Frederik said, “I’m coming today. In fact, I’m almost there.”

Then he was silent. The answering machine was silent, too, and did not cut him off. Maybe the answering machine was also blindsided by this message, thrown off its egalitarian disinterest, maybe it had no idea, either, what to do after receiving such a message, and therefore unintentionally did exactly the right thing—in other words, it kept recording.

Alaska and I stared at the blinking light. We stared at Frederik’s silence, and I tried to grasp that Frederik was almost here.

“I was expecting to be cut off,” Frederik finally said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to let you know sooner. I hope it’s all right with you. See you soon, Luisa.”

“End of message,” the answering machine said quickly, “end of message, end of message.” And then, exceptionally, to be absolutely certain, it repeated a fourth time, “end of message.”

I dialed the number almost everyone I knew dialed in an emergency.

Selma answered after the third ring. It always took a while before the receiver reached her ear. On the other end of the line you heard nothing but a protracted rustling, as if the receiver were a detector that first had to scan Selma’s entire body before it finally reached her ear.

“Hello?” Selma finally said.

“Frederik is coming,” I said.

“I know that.” Selma sighed. “Next week.”

Alaska looked at me. My voice sounded shrill.

“Calm down,” Selma said. “In fact, it’s actually good news.”

“What is?”

“That he’s almost here.”

“What?”

“It’s exactly what you wanted.”