The Crest

Danielle arrived in the lab. She looked at the crowd of junior researchers. “What have you got for me, Karl?”

“Well, remember the Morse Code signal we tracked before the attack?”

“Yes, and these are the same Morse Code signals I told you to stop pursuing. Right?” she asked.

Karl looked at Danielle sheepishly. “Yes, sorry. Well now, we discovered where the signal was coming from,” Karl said to Danielle. “We traced it to DF-152.”

“Where’s that?” she asked.

“DF-152 is a mature Douglas Fir 152 located thirty miles southeast of here and near Timothy Lake.”

“Hmm. Timothy Lake is where Dennis died?” she said.

“Correct,” Karl said. “It’s been a little weird. We looked up where Dennis placed his electrets. This was one of those old-growth trees. A massive one. Diameter breast height of six feet, ten inches. It could have survived the fires.”

Danielle pictured an old growth tree like DF-152, with its thick bark and massive branches. She’d sat underneath the shade of a bunch of old growth Doug firs with Dennis, laughing, kissing, talking about life. Each branch held a micro-habitat with velvet green moss, dainty ferns, and filamentous lichen.

“Old-growth trees often survive fires. So, this is not surprising,” she said.

“True, in the old days, pre-Shift. We haven’t found many that survived in our research. Crown fires killed them,” Karl replied.

Danielle imagined the tree. She and Dennis spent hours talking under those old methuselahs. Something about the grand arbors was enchanting to le genre humain; the human race, appealing to the need for beauty in us all.

“So, this could be where Dennis died? We never found his body,” she asked.

“Could be.”

The others looked on, curious now.

“You know today is the first anniversary of his death.” She said.

Karl stood in shock. “Oh god, Danielle. I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“No problem, it’s just a coincidence.” She laughed uneasily. “We in the science world call that an aberration. What have you got, anyway?”

“Well enormous trees like this can withstand ground fires pretty easy but not if the fires stretched to the crown. There is a chance that DF-152 survived. We can try to contact it now.”

Danielle hesitated. An unexpected anxiousness swept over her. She twisted her wedding ring and perspired. “Go ahead,” she said. She nervously looked around the room at the others.

Karl turned on the AM radio, otherwise known as amplitude modulation. The radio cracked with the high pitch of the AM piercing the air. He tapped on the spark gap transmitter producing pulses of waves across the radio that the listeners caught as brief pulses of dots and dashes on the radio.

Karl tapped into the transmitter. “I’m asking, how are you, DF-152?” he told the group.

Dot dot dot dot, dash dash dash, dot dash dash, dot dash dot dash dot dot, dash dot dash dash dash dash dash dot dot dash, dash dash dash dash dash dot dot dot dash dash dot dash dash, dash dot dot dot dot dash dot dot dash dash dash dash dot dot dot dot, dot dot dash dash, dot dot dash dash dot dot.

They waited for the reply then heard the following. Dot dot dash dot, dot dot, dash dot dot.

Karl conveyed the message. “It says ‘fine’.”

“What would you like to ask it, Danielle? It needs to be simple.”

“How is the wildfire there?” she asked.

Too hard, must be even simpler than that,” Karl said

“How about just ‘fire’?”

Karl typed the Morse Code for fire with a question mark into the spark gap transmitter.

After two minutes DF-152 replied, “No.”

“Antisis?” Danielle said to Karl.

Karl typed the code.

“No,” It responded back.

Danielle asked Karl anxiously, “Who in the hell are we even talking to anyway?”

“I don’t know.”

“Ask if it has water there?” she said.

Karl typed the code. After a few minutes came the reply.

Dash dot, dash dash dash, dash dot.

“None,” Karl said.

Karl received another message. Dash dot dot, dash dot dash dash, dot dot, dash dot, dash dash dot. It says “dying.”

Danielle grew anxious and found it difficult to swallow. There was something about DF-152 that she couldn't place. She thought about the research in Springfield and how trees could be de facto radio transmitters. She remembered the conversation with Fernando about Druids and trees communicating with the dead. Her mind became a cluster of science, spiritualism, and emotion. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be him, she thought. She dared not share her thoughts with Karl or Fernando. Her rational self now overwhelmed with emotion.

“Type ‘sorry’,” Danielle said.

Karl typed the Morse Code for sorry over the spark gap transmitter. Dot dot dot, dash dash dash, dot dash dot, dot dash dot, dash dot dash dash.

After a minute the reply came back and Karl read it to Danielle. “It says ‘okay.’”

The welling of emotion in Danielle grew. Karl and Fernando sensed her discomfort but said nothing. They wanted to comfort their boss but dared not.

A few minutes passed, and the radio buzzed with another transmission. Karl deciphered. “It says — ‘happy’?”

Danielle ran out of the room into the bathroom. She gasped, she took deep breaths and splashed water on her face. After some time, she returned to her researchers and looked at the transmitter.

“Type no,” she said.

Karl transmitted the message. Dash dot, dash dash dash.

After a while, they heard the reply over the radio. “Love you, it says.”

Danielle’s voice cracked now. Tears began to flow from her eyes. “This may sound weird but I need you to confirm something for me, Karl. I need to know if it’s somebody I know.”

“Sure, Danielle. What do you want me to tell it?”

“Please type ′comment es-tu mon cheri’?”

“French?” he asked.

“Yes. It means: how are you, my love?”

“We haven’t received more than one to two-word phrases thus far. Are you sure?” Karl said.

“Just try, Karl.”

Karl typed the message over the spark gap. Dash dot dash dot……… He finished the message, and they waited. Five minutes passed, then seven minutes. Outside a dust storm blew across the nursery. They sat in silence. Karl and Fernando stared at the floor, wondering about their boss.

“I’m sorry,” Danielle said. “I got carried away, I just thought that….” She hung her head, embarrassed, and cried. “How silly of me to think…. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Just then the radio cracked to life and Karl picked up his pencil and wrote frantically. Dot dash dash dash dot, dash dot dot dot dot dash dot dot dot dot dot dot dot dot dash dot dot, dot dash dot dash dot dash dot dot dot dash dash dash dash dot dash, dash dash dash dash dash dot, dot dot dash dot dot dash dot dash dot dot dash dash dash dot dot dash dot dash dot dash.

“It’s French. It says, Je désire ardemment ton étreinte. I long for your embrace.”

Danielle screamed; she hugged Karl and Fernando; she jumped up and down; she wept tears of joy. She cried for several long minutes, tears of remembrance and healing. Karl and Fernando cried too for their boss. A crowd of researchers gathered in their office, curious about the excitement but Danielle did not care. She was free. She was joyous.

The radio cracked to life again and Karl rushed to record the transmission. Dash dash dot dash dash dash dash dash dash dash dot dot….

Karl relayed the message. “It says ‘goodbye, my love’.”

Danielle wept. In a raspy voice, she said, “Goodbye, my dear.”

Karl transmitted her final message. After that the transmitter became silent, and stillness ensued in the laboratory. Everyone stared at Danielle.

Outside the dusty winds blew dark across the nursery.