Frequency X.XX

The old radio crackled to life, the static a constant hiss against the silence of Alex’s room. He’d been tinkering with the dials for hours, searching for the usual crackle of distant stations or the hum of late-night broadcasts. Tonight, though, the airwaves seemed empty.
Then, a faint chirp broke through. It repeated, a rhythmic pattern that seemed to pulse against the static. Alex adjusted the tuning knob, the chirp growing clearer. It wasn’t Morse code, but something… else. A series of rapid tones, an unknown language, or maybe a coded message.

Intrigued, Alex grabbed his notebook. He started logging the signal, sketching the pattern of the chirps and jotting down any variations. Hours melted away as he became fixated, the rhythmic chirps filling the room. Exhaustion finally won, and Alex stumbled to bed, the strange signal echoing in his ears.

The next day, the signal was back, stronger now. The chirps were interspersed with a low hum, creating an unsettling harmony. Alex spent his free time glued to the radio, the static becoming a constant companion. He searched online forums, reaching out to other ham radio enthusiasts, but no one recognized the frequency. It was like he was the only one who could hear it.

The isolation gnawed at Alex. His friends worried, his grades slipped, but the signal pulsed with a strange allure. He felt a connection, a morbid curiosity that he couldn’t explain.
One evening, a new sound emerged from the static. A distorted voice, faint and pleading, speaking in a language Alex didn’t understand. A shiver ran down his spine. The voice spoke again, a sense of urgency crackling through the static. Then, abruptly, silence.

The room felt heavy, the radio humming ominously. Alex stared at the dial, a cold dread settling in his stomach. The voice, the urgency… What did it mean? What story was hidden within the static?

He slammed the radio off, the silence thick and suffocating. But the signal, it lingered in his mind, the strange rhythm a constant reminder. He was the only one listening, and the mystery of Frequency X.XX gnawed at him, a puzzle begging to be solved.

The silence after the distorted voice was deafening. Alex stared at the radio, the chrome knobs glinting accusingly in the dim light. He wasn’t sure what he’d heard, but a primal urge to understand gnawed at him.

The next day, the rhythmic chirps were back, but the voice was absent. Alex spent hours hunched over his desk, scouring the internet for any information about the frequency. He delved into obscure radio forums, contacted university linguistics departments, even reached out to a ham radio operator stationed overseas – all dead ends.

The frustration fueled his obsession. He started recording the signal, hoping to identify patterns or hidden messages within the chirps. Sleep became a luxury he could barely afford. Dark circles formed under his eyes, and his once lively demeanor faded.

One evening, while listening to a recording, Alex noticed a faint anomaly within the static. It was a barely audible tick, almost like a clock counting down. A jolt of fear shot through him. Was this a message? A warning?

The ticking sound became a constant companion, a chilling counterpoint to the chirps. Alex felt like he was on the precipice of something terrifying, but he couldn’t turn away. The mystery had sunk its claws into him.

Then, one night, the ticking changed. It became erratic, faster, filled with a sense of panic. The chirps morphed into a cacophony of screeches, the static crackling with raw energy. Alex flinched back, a scream catching in his throat.

Suddenly, the sound cut out. Silence. Absolute, deafening silence. The room felt cold, the air thick with tension. Alex stared at the radio, his heart hammering against his ribs.

He reached out, his hand hovering over the dial. A part of him wanted to turn it back on, to unravel the mystery. But another, more primal part, urged him to walk away.

With a shaky breath, Alex pushed himself back from the desk. He didn’t touch the radio. He couldn’t. The experience had shaken him to his core.

Weeks turned into months, and the memory of Frequency X.XX began to fade at the edges of Alex’s mind. The silence, once oppressive, became a comfort. He focused on school, reconnected with friends, and the world slowly regained its normal vibrancy.

Then, one rainy afternoon, a package arrived addressed to Alex. The return address was blank. Inside, nestled in packing peanuts, was a worn leather-bound book. Its cover was embossed with a symbol that sent a shiver down Alex’s spine – it looked vaguely familiar, like a corrupted version of the rhythmic chirps from the signal.

Hesitantly, Alex opened the book. The pages were filled with dense, handwritten text in a language he didn’t recognize. But there were symbols throughout the text, symbols that looked disturbingly similar to the ones on the cover. A strange sense of familiarity washed over him.

He grabbed his notebook filled with sketches of the signal’s pattern. His heart hammered in his chest as he compared the symbols. They were a match. A cold sweat formed on his brow. This book held the key to Frequency X.XX.

Driven by a renewed sense of curiosity, Alex embarked on a new mission – deciphering the code. He spent days and nights poring over the book, searching for patterns, anything that might offer a clue to the language. He reached out to cryptography experts online, but none recognized the symbols.

Then, a breakthrough. Buried deep within the text, Alex found a section with illustrations. They depicted strange machines, devices unlike anything he’d ever seen. But one image, in particular, caught his eye. It showed a machine connected to a radio antenna, with symbols that mirrored the ones used throughout the book.

A horrible realization dawned on Alex. This wasn’t just a language; it was a code for operating some kind of device. A device connected to the radio…

Sleep became a distant memory as Alex raced against time. He scoured libraries and online archives, searching for any information about the machines in the book. Days turned into weeks, his frustration mounting with each dead end.

Then, one evening, a blurry image on a dusty microfilm reel offered a glimmer of hope. It depicted a similar device, hidden in the background of a classified government document from the Cold War era. The caption simply read: “Project: Stargate.”

The weight of the discovery pressed down on Alex. He was dealing with something far bigger than he could have ever imagined. The question now was, what would he do with this knowledge?

Alex stared at the book, the weight of the unknown pressing down on him. He could expose everything, bring this secret technology to light. But what were the risks? What if it fell into the wrong hands?

He thought about the distorted voice, the frantic ticking. This wasn’t a weapon, it was a plea for help. Maybe the message held the key to understanding, not destruction.

With a deep breath, Alex made his decision. He would seek help, but he would do it carefully. He wouldn’t expose everything, but he would find someone who could understand the message, someone who could help him decipher the true purpose of Frequency X.XX.
Alex knew he couldn’t go to the authorities. The potential danger of the technology, the cryptic nature of the message – it was all too murky for an official channel. He needed someone on the fringes, someone who operated in the gray areas between academia and the unknown.

His search led him to Dr. Evelyn Wright, a professor at a small university with a reputation for unconventional research methods. Her specialty was linguistics, but her real passion lay in deciphering ancient and obscure languages. Alex found her contact information buried deep within a niche online forum dedicated to codebreaking enthusiasts.

The journey to Dr. Wright’s university was long and filled with nervous anticipation. Alex clutched the leather-bound book in his backpack, its weight a constant reminder of the burden he carried. The university itself was a quaint, ivy-covered building nestled in a secluded part of Vermont. It felt like a world away from the bustling city life Alex was used to.

He found Dr. Wright’s office tucked away on the top floor, overflowing with books and strange artifacts from forgotten cultures. Dr. Wright herself was an unexpected sight. A woman in her late sixties with fiery red hair and eyes that sparkled with a youthful curiosity, she greeted Alex with a warm smile and a cup of steaming tea.

Alex explained his story, his voice trembling slightly as he recounted the events – the signal, the book, the haunting message. Dr. Wright listened intently, her gaze fixed on the worn leather cover as Alex placed the book on her desk.

A flicker of recognition crossed her eyes. “This symbol,” she said, tracing a finger over the corrupted chirp design, “it resembles an ancient Sumerian glyph. They believed it represented a doorway, a passage between worlds.”

A cold dread washed over Alex. Was the message a warning? A plea for help from another dimension? Dr. Wright, however, seemed unfazed. Her eyes shone with excitement as she flipped through the book, her fingers tracing the symbols.

“This isn’t just a code,” she declared, her voice filled with a thrill. “It’s a language, an entirely new system of communication. And judging by the complexity…” she trailed off, her brow furrowed in concentration.

“Judging by what?” Alex pressed, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear and hope.

“This language,” Dr. Wright continued, her voice hushed, “it seems designed to manipulate radio waves. To transmit… information across vast distances.”

The implication hung heavy in the air. This wasn’t just a message; it was a way to send messages across space, perhaps even time. The book held the key to unlocking a cosmic conversation, one that humanity might not be prepared for.

Dr. Wright, however, was invigorated by the prospect. Here was a chance to decipher a language unlike any other, to push the boundaries of human understanding. Together, they embarked on a collaborative effort.

Days turned into weeks as they poured over the book, comparing symbols, searching for patterns. Dr. Wright’s expertise in ancient languages proved invaluable. Slowly, painstakingly, they began to crack the code.

The message, when they finally pieced it together, was not a warning or a plea for help. It was a record, a chronicle of a dying civilization. They spoke of a world ravaged by an ecological disaster, of a desperate attempt to send a message into the vast unknown, hoping it would be found.

The realization struck Alex with a profound sense of sadness. The rhythmic chirps, the frantic ticking – it wasn’t a call for help, but a final goodbye, a message echoing through the cosmos from a civilization lost to time.

The discovery changed Alex. The initial fear and obsession morphed into a deep sense of responsibility. He and Dr. Wright decided to keep their findings quiet, at least for now. The world might not be ready for the implications of interstellar communication.

Instead, they focused on understanding the language further, hoping to glean any knowledge they could from the lost civilization’s message. Perhaps, they thought, there were lessons to be learned, warnings to heed about the dangers of unchecked environmental destruction.

Years passed. Alex graduated from college, his initial fear of Frequency X.XX replaced by a deep fascination with the cosmos. He continued working with Dr. Wright, their research lab a haven for the exploration of the unknown.

One evening, as they were reviewing their latest translation, a new symbol emerged from the text. It was faint, almost hidden, but unmistakable – a symbol that resembled a question mark.

A jolt of realization shot through them. The message wasn’t just a goodbye; it was an invitation, a desperate plea for a response. The question hung in the air, a challenge unlike any other: were they alone in the universe?

Credit: 13th Hour