The Whisperer picked up the phone. He dialed the number.
"You pressed the buttons," Kenji said, leaning back as the dial tone hummed through the speaker. "But you didn't press them with the intention of calling. You pressed them hoping they wouldn't work."
or 1234 or 1111
He typed the ten digits, not of silence, but of salvation. The number for the international emergency services, broadcast on a carrier override frequency.
The phone buzzed harshly.
"What is the password for call barring?" Kenji whispered to himself, realizing the trick. It wasn't a password set by the user. It was the default factory reset code that nobody ever changes because nobody reads the manual on page 104.
"It's a ten-digit code," Kenji muttered, sweat beading on his brow. "But the hint says: What is the price of a conversation? "