The Blank Channel

The boots were sunk deep, as if someone had been standing there a long time. “Someone got here first,” she said. Inside, a rusted staircase climbed through the tower frame. The air smelled like damp wood and old wire. Every step up made Mara feel like something was pressing gently at the inside of her ears. By the third landing, Tobin stopped and pointed at a metal placard bolted to the wall. “This is missing.” Where a sign should have marked the Seventh Dock plug, there was only a clean empty slot. Mara remembered the warning from the future broadcast. That was not a clue. It was confirmation. Somebody had known this tower would have an empty place in it decades ago.