Volume 1 p3 And Then There Were Two
It is 10 AM, six hours since the meteor arrived. Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred, humming along with the air pods, Zoe brushes her long brown hair. She is thinking about computers, networks, and infrastructure. Zoe aspires to work with computers as a career, with a focus on cybersecurity. It happened by chance. One afternoon in fifth grade, Zoe wandered into the school library, where a technician was repairing a computer. That was it, her future. Zoe watched as he removed the hard drive, memory chips, and graphics card. That was all it took; Zoe was hooked. She started collecting discarded computers; they were her guinea pigs. She would take them apart, put them back together, then start again. It didn't take her long to become a skilled, ten-year-old computer savant. Her family surprised her with a brand-new computer, a lovely two-hundred-dollar model, for her eleventh birthday. Zoe immediately began researching upgrade possibilities; within a year, she had turned her gift into a speedy monster that any gamer would envy.
Zoe wants to join cybersecurity programs in the Military, FBI, CIA, etc.… This would give her a chance to chase bad guys worldwide. Those are lofty goals, but she has doubts and fears about achieving them; it is a very competitive field, and many people aspire to those jobs. That makes her more determined to work harder, knowing she has to be better than all of them, not just herself.
It's bright outside; only a few small clouds float in the sky. The sun peeks in the window, filling the room with golden rays, the kind of light puppies love to nap in. Zoe gazes at her slender, petite frame in the mirror. Her shadow stands tall to her left, on the opposite wall. The window is open; the room is alive with scents of honeysuckle and sounds of kids playing. The mirror shows rolled-up blue jeans, brown canvas tennis shoes, a retro nineties computer graphic t-shirt, hair parted in the front, and a ponytail in the back. She fidgets with her bangs, trying to get the right side to align with her face like the left. Smartwatch alarm rings; time to go.
It is Saturday morning. Zoe has big plans for today. She has been designing a computer program to collect data from her weather station for several months. Today is the first big test. She will set up the station on the west end of Walton Lake. Her laptop will be connected to the station to download the data. If the test is successful, she will install a transmitter to send her the data.
Zoe had been slowly building a collection of science instruments for data collection. Her primary source is Pittsburg State University, where her mom is a professor in the math department. The science departments post updates on when they will get rid of equipment. Zoe is on the email list. When she sees something that she is interested in, the haggling begins. Many times, the equipment becomes Christmas or birthday presents, but more commonly, Zoe has to pay her mom back with her babysitting money. A Seismometer sits in the front yard by the gate entrance, soil sensors in all of the gardens; an Interferometer hangs on the south side of the garage; an Oscilloscope, her favorite, sits on a nightstand in the corner of her room. Each new piece of equipment gets a newly built computer and program to collect the data.
Zoe is busy packing the weather station equipment. She pauses and looks around. Somewhere in the room, there is a hum. “Did I leave a machine on?” Zoe says with a puzzled look on her face. She scans the room; none of the machines show signs of life. When convinced the hum is not coming from her room, she grabs her Oscilloscope and laptop, heads outside, and sets up a mini-sound wave station. The initial screen shows sound sources all around her. A mower to her left, dogs barking across the street. “Where are you?” Zoe mumbles to herself. She increases the search area, and there it is. A steady pulsing dot shows on her screen. “That is over by the park. Are they running equipment over there?” Zoe asks. Let’s go find out, she thinks to herself.
Stepping back into the house, she writes a quick note to her mom about going to the park. Grabbing a jacket, just in case, she heads back out the front blue door. After picking up her equipment, she heads to her car. Zoe sets up the equipment to track the blip on the screen to help determine its exact location. Jumping into her Kia, heading out the circle drive onto Olive Street. Looking back one more time at her house, the gold-colored siding reflects the bright sunshine, causing her to reach for her sunglasses. Following the curve that turns into Atlantic St., she heads toward the park. “Let’s turn on some music to help drown out the hum,” Zoe says. The radio begins to pump out “Frontrunner” by Horsegirl. Zoe starts to car dance; she loves her Indie music. She freezes mid-dance, then quickly pulls the car to the side of the road. Turning the radio up, then down, back up, then back down, she listens carefully. The hum doesn’t change. “I’m not hearing it… I’m feeling it,” Zoe murmurs, her pulse quickening.
She takes a minute to let this information sink in; it's a complicated discovery. She thinks to herself, “If the source is at the park and I can feel it at my house, then it must be a powerful broadcast.” If the hum could not be heard, then that rules out equipment. If it's a broadcast, is it intended for everyone or just me? A shiver runs down Zoe’s spine, and goosebumps cover her arms. Her fingers tighten around the steering wheel. This was no ordinary interference. No faulty machine. For the first time, the idea of chasing the hum alone didn’t seem exciting; it seemed stupid. “I need to know; I need to see what is happening; I will stay back and be safe,” Zoe says. She steers the car back into Atlantic St. and continues her journey.
Driving down this road still brings back memories from her childhood. As she passes the slight stretch of trees south of the lake, she can still see herself out there trying to hand-feed deer. Over there, in the rocky spillway, she would play in the water as it ran out of the lake after a storm. Glancing at the laptop, she sees she is just about in line with the blip. She looks beyond the lake, over to the ridge beside the cemetery. “The source is out there somewhere; I will have to park at the school and plan my next move,” Zoe says. The city swimming pool to her left now is where she learned to swim and dive. Those were good times. Nearing the stop sign on Ash, she maneuvers the car into the left turn lane. Pulling out onto Ash, she drives past the skate park and to the school bus entrance. She steers her car up the south side of Weber and pulls into one of the parking slots that face the south. Looking out the passenger-side window, she can see a red-haired person standing in the grass.
Zoe grips the wheel. The hum she thought she could tolerate suddenly intensifies. For the first time, she feels like she’s not the one chasing it; it’s drawing her in.
Thank you for reading this part of Volume 1. For fan reaction, follow us on the X at @TeamMAD. If you'd like to share your thoughts on this or send some fan mail to one of the ladies, you can email us at TeamMADzakmaj@gmail.com.
