Tunnels 03, Freefall

he said, pointing a the glass tubes on the top of the unit that had remained unlit.
    "Could we try to fix it?" Will suggested.
    "I saw some spares in one of the storerooms, but I wouldn't know where to start. It's all a bit beyond me," Dr. Burrows grumbled, as if annoyed with himself. He sighed and sank back into his chair, playing with a packet of crackers. "Anyway, I haven't a clue what all these setting mean, or how any of this equipment works," he said regretfully. He got to his feet, and clicked his tongue against his teeth several times. "It might be a waste of time, but while you're in here you could try to sweep through all the wavelengths, Will. This equipment was probably only for communications around the harbor, and since there's no one else down here but us..." he said, but didn't bother to complete the sentence, instead leaving the room.
    Will took over, turning the main dial slowly, and trying different combinations of switches. As he did this, he repeated "Hello, hello, anybody there?" into the microphone, although this was barely intelligible because he was still gorging himself on pineapple chunks. As his efforts only seemed to be resulting in the odd crackle of static from the speaker, and he'd also had enough of the fruit, he gave up after a while.
    "No," he said to himself disconsolately. "It is a waste of time." Tearing open the packet, he nibbled on one of the dry biscuits as he contemplated the rest of the room. His gaze settled on the pair of telephones on the wall. He stood up and lifted the receiver from the nearest telephone to him, the red one, and put it to his ear to see if there was a dial tone. He couldn't hear anything, so he pressed the tabs on the top of the phone and dialed random numbers to find out if that made any difference.
    "The Bat Phone's out of order," he grumbled as he heard nothing, and eventually replaced the receiver. He chuckled to himself as, on a whim, he picked up the receiver from the black phone next to it, and began to call the number of his house in Highfield. Sticking his finger in the rotary dial of the telephone, he dragged it around. "Why did anyone put up with these?" he said as it took ages for the dial to spin back so he could dial the next digit. He thought about how strange it would be if his mother were to answer. That would be a conversation in a million.
    He closed his eyes and began to imagine how it might go.
    Click!
    Hi Mum, it's Will.
    She would undoubtedly be furious with both him and his father. Where in God's name have you been all this time? You've no idea what you've put me through, have you? You couple of selfish snots -- GET YOURSELVES HOME RIGH THIS MOMENT! She would bellow at the top of her lungs.
    Er, Mum, that's not so easy. We're thousands of miles below the surface, in some sort of Government installation...
    He abandoned his imaginary conversation as silence continued to reign in the earpiece. "Nobody home, nobody home..." he muttered, and was about to replace the receiver when he decided to try again.
    He managed to remember his mother's mobile number, although she rarely had it switched on. As he finished dialing, he listened. There was a burst of white noise, which made him start.

    * * * * *

    In the solicitor's office where she worked, Mrs. Burrows was at her desk typing away furiously. Wearing a pair of headphones, she was listening to the Dictaphone and transcribing a letter from one of the partners. It was to do with a couple in divorce proceedings who were wrangling over custody of their five-year-old daughter. As she imagined the heartbreak and upheaval which lay behind the dry legal language of the letter, Mrs. Burrows was finding it really quite upsetting.
    Thinking she heard her mobile phone, she tore off her headphones and snatched up her handbag. The phone was still ringing as she got it out. Answering it, she put it to her ear, and heard a loud crackle. "Hello," she said, just as the line went dead. She studied the number. She didn't recognize it -- it certainly wasn't a London number. "Another bloody salesman," she said, sling the phone back into her handbag and resuming her typing.

    * * * * *

    With another, much louder burst of white noise, Will had whipped the receiver away from his ear and ended the call. "What am I doing?" he asked himself, but nonetheless resolved to have one last go. On the spur of the moment, his mind went blank and he couldn't think of a single number to try. He didn't know the numbers