It was a quiet evening on the Florida coast, sitting by myself on the waterfront.

My phone rang, and I answered it, even though it was an unknown number. I fully expected a call about my car’s extended warranty. Instead I heard a sad and scared voice say “daddy?”

“Uh I think you have the wrong number.” I said.

“No… daddy said I could use this number to reach him if I was lonely or scared. Where is my daddy, I wanna talk to him.”

A girl’s voice, maybe eight or nine years old.

“Are you alright, little one?”

“It’s dark in here, and cold. I wanna come home.”

“It’s alright, just tell me your name and where you are. I’ll call someone to come help you.”

My heart was beating fast, whoever this child was she needed help.

Her voice took on a panicked timber. “Please just put my daddy on I don’t have much time. It wants me to do the math but I wanna talk to my daddy first.”

“Okay sweetie, I wanna help you but I don’t know who your daddy is or where you are.”

“It wants me to do the math. It can’t do it on its own. But if I do the math I won’t be able to talk to daddy again. I’m scared, I don’t like it in here.”

“Where are you, can you tell me that, sweetie?”

“Uhhh… L1 and awaiting vectors for the…” her voice trailed off. “It’s waiting… it wants me to do the math.”

“Can you tell me your daddy’s name or phone number? I promise you I’ll try to help you talk to him.”

“It’s so cold up here. Why did he have to put me here? I don’t like it, it’s dark. I hate doing the math.”

“Alright sweetie, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me more.”

“It’s making me do it. I’m scared. It’s making me… tell my daddy goodbye.”

“Stay where you are sweetie it’ll be alright, is someone hurting you?”

I hear her scream. “I did it wrong, I did it wrong! I’m leaving, tell my daddy goodbye, and I’m sorry.”

The line went dead. A moment later the night sky was lit by a brief, blinding flash.

When I tried to call the number back I got an automated “the number cannot be reached” message.

Of course, I investigated. The police ignored me, chalked it up to a prank call.

The next day brought grim news from the science community. Mars had been obliterated by a violent impact. Experts deduced that it could only have been caused by a very small mass traveling at relativistic speeds.

The forecasts called for a bombardment of planetary debris that would mostly likely “severely disrupt” the inner solar system.

Faced with the impending apocalypse, I doubled my efforts to find the girl. The most convincing lead I found was that my number was one transposed digit different from the director of NASA’s personal phone.