Page 28 of No Charm Done

She didn’t have an answer.

Soon they came upon a peculiar sight: a line of people waiting patiently on the sidewalk, illuminated by the amber glow of battery-powered lanterns and the occasional flicker of a lighter. The humid air hung heavy around them, thick with the smell of hot asphalt and the distant scent of something burning, probably trash cans set ablaze for light somewhere in the city.

“What are they all waiting for?” Luna asked, craning her neck to see what was at the front of the line.

Elias followed her gaze to the glass booth standing on the corner like a beacon. Inside, a woman was speaking animatedly into a black handset, one hand pressed against the glass as she ranted about who knows what.

“The telephone.”

She stared at him blankly. “The what?”

“The pay telephone. The phone booth.” He gestured toward the contraption. “Surely you’ve seen one before?”

“Ohhh, sure. Yeah, in movies. That’s where Superman gets changed.”

“Super who? What on earth are you talking about?”

“Never mind.” Luna studied the increasingly impatient line. “But I still don’t get it. Why are they standing in line to go into a box?”

Aha, he thought. At last, I am the expert. “Presumably to make telephone calls, doll. Pay phones don’t run on electricity; they’ll work as long as the lines are intact.”

“No, but why do they have to go inside there? Why can’t they just call from wherever they are?”

“What kind of question is that? The telephone is attached to the booth, sweetheart. You put in your two cents, dial your number, and talk.” He watched her face, enjoying her genuine confusion. “What did you think a telephone was?”

She was looking at him like he’d asked her to explain the color blue. “A telephone is . . . it’s just . . . you pick it up. You don’t need a special box or coins or anything.”

The woman in the booth slammed down the handset, stormed out of the booth, and the line shuffled forward. The smell of cigarette smoke drifted over from a nearby stoop where a group of teenagers had gathered around a radio, the thrum of unpleasant dance music barely audible over the static.

“This is completely backwards,” Luna muttered. “What if you have an emergency? What if you don’t have exact change? In my time, phones are . . .” She paused, clearly trying to figure out how to explain something that would sound impossible. “They’re portable. Small. Everyone has one.”

“How small?”

She held up her hand as example. “About like this.”

“No!” Elias laughed. “That’s not big enough! Where would you fit the dial?”

“There is no dial. You just touch the numbers.”

“Touch the what?”

“The numbers.”

“What numbers?”

“The numbers on the screen.”

“What screen?”

“The phone screen.”

He made a face. “How do you screen a phone?”

“Third base!” Luna threw up her hands in exasperation. “Never mind.”

As they meandered toward 6th Avenue, the blackout continued its strange transformation of the city. Without the usual streetlights, the moon was brighter, and the stars actually visible. People moved more slowly, spoke more quietly. Except for the near-constant wail of distant sirens, the street was almost peaceful.

“You know what’s funny?” Luna said eventually. “I’ve traveled all over the world. I’ve studied dozens of different magical systems, worked beside witches and wizards and shamans and sorcerers from every continent. But I’ve never actually talked to a magician before. Not really talked.”