Work Text:
"Yes, sir, I'll contact the research station as soon as possible," I muttered into the phone, my frustration evident in my tone. As I ended the call, I let out a heavy sigh and sank into my chair, the weight of the situation bearing down on me. The room was filled with nothing but the relentless static noise emanating from the radio. "How many times do I have to tell them that I can't communicate with the research station in this darned snowstorm?" I muttered to myself, rubbing my temples as the stress of the situation began to manifest into a pounding headache.
I sat at the communication station, flipping the dial in a futile attempt to find a signal. "Station Theta, if anyone's there, please respond... Station Theta?... Station Theta?" I repeated the words monotonously, the sound of my own voice echoing in the empty room. "Why don't they respond? It's just a 10-minute weekly report, not like they have anything better to do," I muttered to myself, growing increasingly frustrated. "Do they turn into popsicles from this snowstorm or something?" I scoffed, my tone tinged with bitterness.
Despite my best efforts to maintain professionalism, a hint of madness crept into my words as I addressed the silent airwaves. "Station popsicles... uh... Station Theta, please respond," I muttered, my voice trailing off into the static-filled silence, desperate for any sign of acknowledgment from the distant research station.
With a heavy sigh, I lifted the receiver, bracing myself for yet another round of complaints from the other end of the line. "I am sorry, sir, there's still no data to report. I'm still unable to contact the research station due to this relentless snowstorm," I recited, my voice tinged with resignation. "I'll try to deliver it to you as soon as possible."
As I hung up the phone, I returned to my futile attempts at communication, flipping through the radio frequencies in a repetitive, mechanical motion. My gaze wandered to the window, where all I could see was a swirling mass of white snow and the remnants of fallen radio antennas.
I glanced at the fallen antenna, knowing full well that the repair box sat just within reach. But given the dire circumstances outside, venturing into the snowstorm seemed like a risk not worth taking. "I won't even dare to go outside," I muttered to myself, a wry chuckle escaping my lips. "Or else I'd turn into popsicles just like them at Station Theta. Heh... popsicles."
With a resigned shrug, I poured myself a cup of hot water and settled back into my chair, the static-filled radio serving as the soundtrack to another day of futile communication attempts.
Today I woke up to a strange noise coming from the radio. After years of working with radio communication, I've gotten used to the constant static radio noise, but this wasn't the usual static radio noise.
I squinted at the window with a puzzled expression, taking in the sight the broken antenna is still hanging in there and the relentless snowstorm still raging outside. Was it morning? Or was it closer to midnight? Honestly, I couldn't tell anymore.
Shaking off my confusion, I turned my attention back to the radio, which was emitting an unusually garbled noise. I leaned forward in my seat, straining to listen closely and make sense of the jumbled noise.
I heard a repetitive whooshing sound, like someone breathing heavily. There was a frantic tone to it, as if whoever was on the other end of the line was in a state of fear and distress. The noise was so distorted that I could barely make out what the person was trying to say.
I pulled my chair closer to the radio and leaned in, completely focused on listening to the strange sound.
When all of a sudden, the noise is completely silent, and I hear the clearest voice coming out of the radio:
"Theseus."