Frequency by Angela R. Hunt

Frequency

By Angela R. Hunt

It started as an ordinary afternoon in the laboratory. We were experimenting with using steam to enhance radio waves. We were monitoring the changes in frequency and whether or not the waves were more evenly carried; our theory was that the water in the steam would enhance the transmission of the waves. If we were right, we could change the world of communication overnight! We were frustrated, our results seemed inconclusive. 

Joe was working on the wires on the back of the radio transmitter when lightening struck the wire outside. The thunder sounded seconds later, too late to be a warning. I did not hear the torrential pounding of the rain on the windows or the roof as I ran to check on Joe. He had been thrown back with a terrible cry that I never want to hear another human make. It sounded primal and pained, perhaps the sound of death slipping swiftly into living cells. 

“Joe!” I called out repeatedly as I raced around and through the maze of wires, tables and random piles of equipment that filled the small laboratory. The only thing missing was a stuffed alligator or a twisted refuge from an unethical human experiment gone wrong. We joked about it often. We kept a small stuffed sock monkey in a cage as a joke. 

I registered knocking it to the floor as I finally reached Joe. His body was still twitching, his face was contorted with pain, but he was breathing! I helped him sit up, got him a glass of water and waited to see if I would need to call for a Physician. It was not our first accident. He seemed unaware, eyes searching, face pinched in pain. I had an urge to calm him. I turned the radio on. The sound of a broken heart, a smoky voiced blues singer crooned invisibly to us. Joe straightened and sat up. His mannerisms changed. His facial expression became melancholy. He gestured as if he were holding a cigarette. He began singing. His voice was the same as the woman on the radio! How? The song ended, I turned the volume low. 

“Joe, how are you?” I asked, watching the alien movements and expressions. It was as if someone else had stepped into his skin. He looked at me. 

“Who are you talking to?” He looked around. He still had the woman’s voice! “My name is Bessie. What am I doing here? I was just closing my eyes, singing my newest song when something felt like it was draining me. I felt like I was drowning. I thought I was dying, but here I am. This sure ain’t heaven.” He looked at me and gestured for a cigarette. 

I shook my head. Neither of us smoked. He-She looked sad. 

I looked at the radio. I went over and turned the volume up. Static rolled across the room carried in waves around us. How could the station be gone? It had been clear! 

I played with the dial. I was looking for a station. 

Joe collapsed. 

I was anxious, confused, and terrified. I was also curious. I kept turning the dial slowly. 

Another station came in. 

An announcer was giving a plucky plug to one of the station’s advertisers. 

Joe sat up. The station became static. Joe stretched and stood up. His movement was almost electric. He grinned and I thought he was back. Then he started dancing around the room, practicing jingles and playing with the words he’d used in the advertisement. I watched in amazement for several minutes. His voice was a deep baritone instead of his usual light tenor. His grin was huge and relaxed. I wish I could say he smiled like that often. The real Joe had a small, tight lipped smile. Joe smiled like he feared someone would steal it. Perhaps they had! 

I decided not to bother trying to explain anything to this presence although it was a good one. I turned the dial slowly again. When the static cleared I heard an angry minister spouting about the end of days and encouraging prejudice and hate through rhetoric. I kept turning. Joe seemed to catch the signal but lost it as I kept the dial turning. 

What would I do when I ran out of stations? Where was Joe? Would I ever find him? Was his body working as a receiver? Were the people he was projecting alright or was my callous curiosity destroying more than one mind? Was I loosing spirits into the ether, pulling them out with a twist of the dial? 

I stopped and let static surround me. I let it fill the room. I shook my head. I had to think. I had to figure this out, what if time was slipping past the point where I could bring Joe back? Joe would not give up on me. What would Joe do? I paced. 

I ran downstairs, looked for a street kid. We pay them to gather information and carry messages. I found several easily. They tend to stick around when you treat them well and pay them well in coin and food. The two boys listened eagerly. They repeated their instructions back. They raced the shadows in two different directions, masters of slipping through clogged crowds. 

I knocked on my neighbor’s door. She answered. I asked her politely if I could check her radio for stations as mine was having trouble with reception. She smiled indulgently and allowed me to come in. She was listening to a radio play, but it was on commercial. I turned the dial. The preacher was still shouting, but now was shouting about having his soul stolen and returned by devils in a laboratory! 

So the people were alright but while the radio had been tuned to the frequency they were transmitting on; they had been transported into Joe! Where was Joe? Could we reverse this? Could we repeat this? The ramifications were incredible! 

What would Joe retain, if anything from the different frequencies transmitting other spirits through his body? 

The boys came back. One confirmed my theory. He’d run to the nearest station, and he’d found the announcer resting after claiming to have a “weird out of body moment where he daydreamed he was in a Musical set in a laboratory suitable for a mad scientist”. He mentioned the odd little teddy bear as he joked about it on air. The boy heard the whole segment and recited it to me. I nodded and paid him extra. The other boy said I was welcome to use the radio tower tonight, that no other research was being done there tonight. 

I gathered supplies. I paid a coach driver to help me load Joe and we went to the radio tower. I felt a twinge of guilt with the obsessive drive for further knowledge. 

I hooked our little radio into the wires of the greatest receiver in the city. The metal tower jutted out beyond the smoke and smog. I looked at Joe. Perhaps I could find him using the tower, perhaps I could reach beyond our world and catch something else! 

Before I turned the radio on I spun the dial all the way to the left. I would start at the lowest frequency and work my way up. I hoped this worked. 

I began turning the dial. Static seemed endless until Joe’s eyes focused and a man’s voice sang a love song. Joe sat up and sang. It was the voice on the radio. Joe still was not himself. I kept turning the dial slowly. Other personas came and went. Joe’s posture and expressions sharpened and softened as stations came and went. 

In the midst of the static as I was working my way through higher frequencies Joe sat up straight. His arm shot out and grabbed my shoulder. He looked at me. The look was alien and cold. He moved like he was having trouble with his body, like it was hard for him to use. When he spoke it was in no language I recognized. He snarled and leapt at me! 

I fell back, knocking the radio to the ground. The radio broke. Joe collapsed. 

Whatever it was had gone. 

Joe is still out there somewhere. When you turn the dial, you may find him and hear him. You will think it is an old recording. I keep trying to catch his frequency. If only I can transmit him back to himself!