The Blank Channel

In the top operations room, the old frequency board had been half disassembled. New and old cables lay across the floor. A stack of water-damaged archive boxes sat in the corner, one already pried open. Mara stepped forward, and Nia grabbed her arm and pointed toward the window. A thin strip of tape had been applied to the glass. On it was a number sequence so faint it was almost invisible. “Noise insulation?” Jessa squinted. “No,” Tobin said, setting down his tool bag. “Shielding. Somebody installed a crude echo isolation net in here.” “For what?” Cal asked. “To trap the signal inside the tower,” Tobin said. “Or let something outside in.” The board lit up before he could finish.