The air in the abandoned observatory hummed with the static of forgotten signals, a low-frequency pulse that made the metal floor vibrate beneath Mara’s boots. She adjusted her gloves, the synthetic fibers stiff from weeks of disuse, and stepped closer to the dish-shaped antenna. Its surface was pitted with rust, but the core still pulsed—weakly, erratically—as if it were alive. The message had come from here, or at least from this frequency. Mara had followed the signal across three states, through deserts and forests, until it led her to this place. She didn’t know what she’d find, but the code in the transmission had been unmistakable: a sequence of numbers that matched the patterns she’d seen in her father’s notes. The ones he’d hidden before he disappeared. A crack split the floor near her feet, and she froze. The sound hadn’t come from the dish. It had come from behind her. She spun, her breath shallow, and saw nothing but shadow. The observatory’s windows were shattered, letting in a sliver of pale morning light that cut across the room like a blade. Mara tightened her grip on the wrench she’d found in the toolshed. The static grew louder. She could feel it in her teeth. Then, a voice—low, distorted, as if spoken through a speaker damaged by time. “You shouldn’t have come.” Mara’s pulse thrummed in her ears. She didn’t answer. The voice spoke again, slower this time. “He left something for you. But you’re not ready.” The wrench slipped in her grip. She bent to retrieve it, and that’s when she saw the symbols etched into the wall—lines of code, but not the kind she’d studied in school. These were older, more intricate, their meaning buried in layers of encryption. Her father’s work. The voice faded, leaving only the static. Mara pressed her palm against the wall, feeling the grooves beneath her fingers. The code was a map. Not of places, but of moments—events that had already happened, or would happen soon. She didn’t know which. The observatory creaked as if something were shifting inside its bones. Mara turned back to the dish, her mind racing. If her father had left a message, it wasn’t just for her. It was for everyone who’d followed the signal. The ones who’d searched for answers in the noise. She reached into her pack and pulled out the small device she’d brought—a portable decoder, its screen flickering with unreadable data. The static surged, and for a moment, she thought she heard her father’s voice again. But it was just the wind, howling through the broken windows. Mara exhaled, steadying herself. She had to keep going. The code was only the beginning.
