Don't Reply

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His phone came to life. Keep this frequency clear a sample of a dance track from his youth. He sat in his company boardroom with six other people, all seated around a large oval conference table.

‘Sorry.’ He said, but the message alert was too much to ignore. With his phone barely visible under the table, he opened his messaging app. You've been selected at random for a chance to win £1000. Reply YES to be entered into a free prize draw, or reply STOP to stop future texts

‘Bloody spam.’ She said, throwing the phone back onto the table.

Fucking junk texts. He thought as he sneaked his phone back into his pocket.

The program he had written to send the texts selected only a thousand numbers. All he had was the operator dialling prefixes that were used by the different mobile carriers; the rest of the number was randomly generated. He didn't know if any of them were active numbers. He didn't know if anybody would reply. But it would only take one reply of YES to set things in motion, one reply to make Nathan Rayner the most wanted man in Britain.

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