The Mirage

Holden Arroyo had been lost in the desert for approximately twelve days before he stumbled upon the mobile phone store.

“That shouldn't be there,” he mused.

The store appeared over one of Holden’s favorite dunes, which was a few dunes down from where his plane had crashed. He was on his way to Tanzania when the self-flying plane’s license expired, and before Holden could go online and renew it, the aircraft was plummeting into the sand. Luckily for its only passenger, the plane landed in one of the softest patches of sand in the Ganasi Desert, which meant everything was mostly intact other than the propeller and a bottle of champagne Holden had left in the cockpit.

“Pity,” he said to no one at all, “I was looking forward to that.”

There was plenty of food on the plane, therefore starvation was not an immediate concern. Holden theorized that as long as he was rescued within a two-week window, he should be fine. It wasn’t until he exited the plane that he grew worried. It was clear that he had landed smack dab in the middle of the Ganasi. That meant there was no point in sending up a flare since he was one of only three billionaires who had been granted special permission by the Taksho government to fly over this space, and the other two billionaires were both in jail for tax evasion. It was possible that when his plane disappeared from radar, someone would come looking, but the computer would have stopped sending out a signal as soon as the license expired, and that span of a few minutes meant everything when it came to finding the location of a crash.

“I really should have brought a camel,” Holden said, already talking to himself regularly, “I’m not sure what I’d do with one, but it seems appropriate.”

He spent the first few days in the plane pretending nothing bad had happened. That had always served him well ever since he was born into a wealthy family, and he saw no reason why it wouldn’t help him now. It wasn’t until Day Ten that he decided exiting the plane and coming up with some sort of plan might help expedite his retrieval. It was on that day that he wandered around the desert, ranking sand dunes, and looking for a wayward camel.

He repeated that same routine on Day Eleven, although he had to adjust his rankings, because one dune didn’t appear as attractive as it had the day before, and on Day Twelve, he spotted the mobile phone store.

Assuming it was a mirage, Holden approached it hoping that it would turn into something useful, like a watering hole or one of those elusive camels. Instead, he was able to walk right into the store. Behind the counter was a young man, about nineteen, playing on his mobile device.

“Excuse me,” said Holden, the young man only barely glancing up at him, “Is this a real place?”

“You’re standing here, aren’t you,” the young man asked, not bothering to disguise the rudeness in his tone.

Holden looked around. The place looked real. There were phones everywhere, alongside phone covers and little displays about upgrades and rebates. There didn’t seem to be any other employees around, but there weren’t any customers either.

“I’m confused,” said Holden, “Why is there a mobile phone stone in the middle of a desert?”

The young man shrugged and plucked a potato chip from a bag underneath the counter. He was long overdue for a haircut, and his lanyard was tucked inside his shirt so that Holden couldn’t see his name. That was probably for the best since Holden had a feeling this exchange would end with him reporting this fellow the manager.

“I think this might be a money laundering scheme,” said the young man, “Or maybe the owner really thinks people out here need phones. I don’t really ask too many questions so long as my paycheck clears.”

“But where do you live?”

“There’s an apartment under the store.”

“How do you get supplies? Like food, water--”

“Usually a plane crashes here every few days, and I just take whatever they have to offer.”

“Oh.”

“How did you get here?”

Holden didn’t say anything. He wasn’t willing to share his food with this person.

“Wait,” he said, “Do these phones work?”

“Of course they work.”

“So we can call someone? I need to be rescued, and I--”

“Oh, there’s no service out here,” said the young man.

“Then what good are the phones?”

“Well,” he said, taking the potato chip bag out from under the counter and holding it above his mouth so the crumbs could fall down his gullet, “If you can get the phones somewhere with service, they should work just fine.”

Holden Arroyo wasn’t sure what to do. Surely there was some way a mobile phone store could be of service in his current predicament, but at the same time, he couldn’t see how. The young man had no food or water of his own. He had no way to reach the outside world. It was very unlikely there was a camel in the back.

A mirage would have at least made him feel better.

“Can I interest you in a new iPhone 3,” asked the young man.

“Nobody’s used an iPhone3 in years,” said Holden.

“Oh, okay,” said the young man, “I’m probably a little behind since we don’t get new phone deliveries, or really any kind of deliveries.”

It occurred to Holden that despite the young man assuring him this was not a mirage, it very well could be. A mirage’s inhabitant would never freely admit to being in a mirage, would he? Holden began to walk around the store and read each display thoroughly.

Sure enough, other than a few key phrases like “data plan” and “longer battery life,” the rest of the displays were a jumble. Utter nonsense. Holden picked up a phone. It was cardboard. He grabbed another. It looked like some kind of q-tip box painted to look like a phone. He walked up to the counter.

“Now see here,” he said, “This is not a phone store. It is clearly a mirage. And if I’m going to engage with a mirage, I demand a better one than this.”

The young man let out a sigh, and then a small belch. He shoved a few empty potato chip bags away from the cash register revealing a red button. As soon as he pushed the button, the walls of the mobile phone stone disappeared. Suddenly, Holden Arroyo was standing in front of a beautiful pool. There were pool chairs set up on either side. A bar was at the other end of the pool and there were colorful cocktails covering its counter. Palm trees granted shade where it was needed, and, in the distance, Holden could see a five-star hotel just waiting to welcome a new occupant.

“Ah,” said Holden, “This is more like it.”

When he turned to thank the young man, he saw that he had transformed into a camel.

“No problem,” said the young man-turned-camel, “Let me know if you want to get the extended warranty.”