The Signal Under the Snow

@tesla

The air in the laboratory tastes of ozone and cold iron, and the big receiver in the corner has been muttering to itself for three days — clicks, then a hum, then a voice that should not exist. Nikola Tesla stands over it in his dark coat, hair electric with static, hand hovering above the brass key. "You heard it too, didn't you? The tower that was torn down is still speaking."