@@@@@Next to the magnet was a magnetized
@@@@@Next to the magnet was a
magnetized pad-holder and a stub of pencil on a
string
I pushed the LINE 1 button again and dialed 411
The automated operator welcomed me to Verizon
Directory Assistance and asked me for city and
stateI said "Providence, Rhode Island,"
enunciating as though on stageSo far, so good,
but the robot choked on Ilse no matter how
carefully I enunciatedIt rolled me over to a
human operator, who checked and told me what I had
already suspected: Ilse's number was unpublished
I told the operator I was calling my daughter, and
the call was importantThe operator said I could
talk to a supervisor, who would probably be
willing to make an enquiry call on my behalf, but
not until eight AM eastern timeI looked at the
clock on the microwave
I hung up and closed my eyesI could wake up
Wireman, see if he had Ilse in his little red
887
address book, but I had a gnawing intuition even
that might take too long
"I can do this," I said, but with no real hope
Of course you can, Kamen saidWhat is your weight?
It was a hundred and seventy-four, up from an alltime
adult low of one-fiftyI saw these numbers
in my mind: 174150Then
five of them turned green, one after the other
Without opening my eyes, I seized the stub of the
pencil and wrote them on the pad: 40175
And what is your Social Security number? Kamen
enquired further
It appeared in darkness, bright red numbersFour
of them turned green, and I added them to what I
had already scrawledWhen I opened my eyes I had
printed 401759082 in a drunken, downward-tending
sprawl on the pad
It was right, I recognized it, but I was still
missing a number
It doesn't matter, the Kamen inside my head told
meKeypad phones are an amazing gift to the
memory-challengedIf you clear your mind and
punch what you already have, you'll hit the last
number with no problem