My trip to Winterfell was full of fun. The weekend began with an early Friday event. ’70s Night at Storytellers Pub was a success. The music provided by one of The Steamlands very best DJs, Miss Poppy, was a free-flowing, genre-busting mix of 1970s hits. There were some returning customers as well as some new attendees and the crowd included some dignitaries – both Adm. Beaumont and the Duke of Wolfsbane joined us. And your Ambassador was delighted to escort the lovely Selena, who has embraced Winterfell as her second home.

On Sunday, Selena joined me on Nepenthe Gate to watch the Tall Ships Races on a glorious day for The Realm. A captain called Angellic captured the champion’s trophy in a rather close final heat.

As much as I enjoyed my weekend back home in Winterfell, there was work to do in other worlds.

Monday found me back in Evergreen, eager to resume my investigation of the mysterious towers in Satori. I had left the radio set I brought back from my trip to the mid-20th century in my house up north in Kamar. It was important to be as far away from the towers as I could get to try to pick up any signal they gave. This distance was required to avoid any interference or over-modulation. And yet, I wanted to be close enough to pick up any signal that might be there, even including the possibility of a harmonic signal. If the fundamental frequency relayed by these towers was too low for the radio to pick up, it might still be possible to get a harmonic. Unlikely? Well yes, the entire endeavor was a possible wild goose chase but if I was going to attempt this at all, I should leave no stone unturned.

I spent Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday nights on the observation deck roof of my house, slowly – s l o w l y – moving the dial. Listening with the headsets and then without them and then with them again. Nights are chilly in Evergreen and the winds can be strong, so each night I would bring a pot of tea with me. (And I had something a bit stronger standing by for those moments when it became necessary. There were several.)

I had scoured the bands over and over, up and down the dial. There were moments when I thought I had something…but upon further listening on a given frequency, I would realize there was nothing there. The listener log I had created to record any findings was still blank as there was nothing to write down, nothing to take note of. Nothing at all.

On the fourth night, I was ready to give in. “One more hour and that’s it,” I thought. It would be 2 a.m. in the local time and I was weary from sitting in that same position, night after night, listening hard, straining my ears and my brain.

About twenty minutes after I set my deadline, I thought I heard something once again. Slowly, I dialed back to that spot. I zeroed in, a slight turn this way, a slight turn that way. There.

What is that?

Silence came from the radio.

But it wasn’t the silence that had my attention. It was the kind of silence.

“I think I have something!”

I rose from my little wooden chair and got down on my knees and hunched over the radio. I didn’t dare touch that dial.

I cranked the volume all the way up.

Silence. Very loud silence, accompanied by the hum of the radio receiver itself.

“That’s it! I have found something!”

I grabbed for the listener log and quickly wrote down the frequency and the local time. As I did, I said aloud, “Dot, you are not going to believe this!” As if Dot Macchi was sitting there with me.

Had you been sitting there with me, dear reader, you might be thinking I had gone mad. But I had not. No.

This silence coming from my radio was not silence at all. Ever since my meeting with Mr. Hertz in the late 1880s, I have spent countless hours “spininng the dial’ of any radio within my reach. Thus, my ear is well-trained. Dead silence is one thing. But the sound of silence created by a transmitter that is sending a signal but no information or program, is a sound I know

And that was the sound I was picking up on my radio in Kamar. Someone or something is “on the air” to transmit. The fact that they are not actually sending anything to listen to is beside the point. They could, if they wanted to. Or they did at one time. Or… well, there are many possibilities. All I know is, I am picking up a station of some sort, being relayed by those towers in Satori.

Where is that transmission coming from? That I do not know. And I know right now that I may never know. But I must try to find out. Could this be a communications system built by the D’ni? Possibly. Could it have been here before them? Or erected afterward? Also possible. Maybe there was someone before me, an explorer, a researcher, a scientist who was doing the same thing I and my friends at The Devokan Trust are doing – researching what the D’ni left behind. And maybe these researchers were here ages ago (pardon the pun!) and are the ones who created the towers and established the station for their own communications purposes across the Ages, acoss the Worlds. I don’t know. I don’t know. I will try to find out but right now I don’t know much at all.

All I know right now is, someone, somewhere, at sometime put up relay towers. And built a transmitting station and put out a signal to send out some kind of information that is no longer being sent. And for whatever reason, by choice or not…

They left it turned on.