“Dit-dah-dah, dit-dah, dah, dah-dit-dah-dit, dit-dit-dit-dit, dit-dit, dah-dit, dah-dah-dit...”
I remember quietly repeating the sounds aloud, as I recorded the dots and dashes on a piece of paper. Another puzzle.
I always tried to keep myself busy by constantly changing my hobbies. I tried not to attach myself to any single hobby for too long, I always moved on to another. I made sure that they were usually something I wasn’t particularly familiar with, or had any previous experience in. This way I could pass time, while also learning a new skill. There were the more typical pastimes: like hiking or photography, but I usually tried for the more adventurous ones. Urban exploration, caving, geocaching, I always had a fondness for these. They gave you great pictures of your journey and various discoveries you’ve made, or at the very least a good story to tell. I especially loved geocaching. There was something about solving a puzzle or riddle, exploring the area by following clues, and then carrying away some physical “treasure” from the effort, that I found truly rewarding. I even did a few of my own, which was occasional even better, creating my own puzzle and riddles, and finding the perfect hiding spot for “the cache” (usually just various low-value things like coins, or pictures I had taken.) I did this for a couple of years, but finally realized that I should move on to something else.
I had heard from a friend about these small electronics kits that you could order in the mail, build yourself, and served a variety of functions. I didn’t have any real experience in electronics, so I figured this would be a great potential new hobby. The website he referred me to, which he assured me had “the best kits,” wasn’t in English, and the translation of the page was shaky at best. It took me a few days to decide on what kind of project I wanted to do, but I finally decided, and ordered my kit. The kit I landed on came in a variety of forms, with increasing ability and complexity. I picked a smaller kit to start with, since I wasn’t fully sure that I could figure out how to build it, let alone make it work. The setup claimed, from what I could understand, that it could pick up various radio signals “across the spectrum.” It then allowed you to hook up the system to your computer to record and play them back.
My goal with this setup was to try and pick up a signal from the Air Force base, which was fairly close to my apartment. I didn’t have any nefarious plots of some kind; I only wanted to give myself a challenge. It seemed reasonable that I should be able to pick up at least one non-encrypted signal, even if it was just in the cafeteria or some other trivial sector of the base. However, there was already a hitch in my plans, as the kit I ordered (which promised to “pick up any signal”) only had a two block range. I knew that wasn’t even close to how far away the base was. At this point, I figured I would just order another kit, and make sure the next one could actually pick up a signal that was at least two miles away. Until then, I could at least construct the kit I had. This way I could get some experience with the electronics, and have an easier time building the more advanced version.
Over the course of the next week, I was able to work out how the kit went together and get the receiver functioning. I had already come to terms with the fact that it was highly improbable that there was a radio signal within two blocks of my apartment. As I mindlessly scanned through the frequencies all I found was static. Until, I heard a brief note amidst the static. I turned back until I heard it again. When I finally landed on it, it became clear: “dit-dit-dit-dit-dah...” I was ecstatic, not only had I actually proven that the receiver worked, I already had something to show for the effort. It seemed that I had stumbled upon a Morse code signal. This would be the perfect way to pass the time until I received my next kit in the mail. I recorded a segment of the signal, and began decoding the broadcast.
The signal seemed to be broken into two sections, with each separated by a distinct instrumental tone. When I had translated the sections, it took me only a moment to realize. GPS coordinates! I was elated. I couldn't have hoped for a better outcome. I plugged the numbers into my GPS and saw that it pointed to a location about two blocks away, considering the range of the receiver; this was probably where the signal was too. My disappointment with the kit had completely fallen away to the thrill of this mysterious signal. The location was only a couple of minutes away by car. I grabbed my GPS, my hiking backpack, and headed out to the signal.
There was some slight doubt in my head on the drive over:
This could just be some radio antenna broadcasting its location, or some sort of tracking element on some ancient city utility.
This didn’t really dampen my conviction, as I still had fantastical hopes of finding buried treasure or an abandoned secret Cold War complex. Despite my high ambitions for the signal, I would be happy finding anything really. The only thing that would be heart breaking to find would be nothing. My eagerness came to a peak as I approached the turn that seemed to lead right to the signal.
The road led to a cul de sac, with the signal being a few hundred feet into an open forest beyond the houses. Luckily, the forest wasn’t fenced off, and the area seemed pretty empty, with most of the houses having “For Sale” signs stabbed into their lawns. I noticed as I approached the forest that I hadn’t really thought this through. It was already past dusk, and darkness was starting to shroud the area. As much as I wanted to know what was behind the trees, I still figured it wasn’t worth stumbling through a dark forest. I didn’t even bring a flashlight. Much to my disappointment, I would have to wait until tomorrow to explore the forest. Thankfully, I had the next day off, so I was able to head to the forest in the early afternoon.
This time I was a little more prepared, now knowing what I was going into. This time I had a full-size shovel, a duffle bag, and a flashlight, just in case this would take longer than I thought. I approached the wall of the forest. The trees and vegetation were overgrown and literally pouring into the asphalt of the cul de sac. There wasn’t a gradual progression into the density of the forest, the massive amount of the trees and vegetation was immediate. It was slow going through the forest, as the thorns, vines, and branches made each step unsteady and awkward. It took the better part of an hour to finally arrive a few yards from the location of the signal. As I continued to approach, I became worried that there may in fact be nothing in the forest, as the forest still seemed the same ubiquitous mass of wood and plant that I had just climbed through. As I neared the final hundred feet or so I searched desperately for something out of the ordinary in the area, something that could possibly indicate human intervention: a recently dug into surface, or any kind of unnatural change in the layout. As I passed around a large tree within the last few feet, I finally saw it. It wasn’t quite what I had imagined.
At first glance, it appeared to be just a kind of lean-to, tent-like structure made out of old pieces of plywood. The plywood was rotted to a deep brackish brown, and sagged heavily from decay. If this was all that I was supposed to find, I was deeply regretting the effort leading up to it. As I approached, I was shocked to see that the wood was actually covering something: a metal hatch set into the ground. When I finally got to the hatch, I was dumbfounded. I had fantasies of lost complexes and secret bases, but I never actually thought I’d actually find anything like this. Judging from the rust and peeling off-white paint on the hatch, I figured it was most likely a fallout shelter, which had been abandoned for decades and forgotten.
I immediately reached for the handle and tried to pull the door open. It wouldn’t budge. I tried again and again, but it was pointless, it didn’t move at all. There wasn’t any kind of lock visible, so I figured that it must be rusted shut. I tried prying it open with the shovel, but all I managed to do was scrape off a small pile paint and rust. My heart sank as I realized that I wouldn’t be able to get inside the shelter. I vaguely remembered hearing that after a shelter was abandoned they welded them shut to keep out vagrants. It seemed such a shame to have come so far, with so little to show for the journey. I took a picture of the hatch and wooden structure, and headed back out of the dense forest. Even though I probably knew that there wasn’t anything interesting inside the shelter, I still pined for the opportunity. Again my fantasies got the better of me, and I imagined finding skeletons gripping secret documents and hidden stashes of experimental weaponry. I wondered why the signal had pointed to the hatch, but I figured the answer was likely a dull one. Disheartened, I got back into my car and headed home.
I overcame my disappointment fairly quickly, as I admitted that finding that shelter was better than never finding anything. The journey itself was invigorating, and I enjoyed the mystery of it alone. At the very least, it was a great way to pass the time, and made for a half-decent story. When I left for work the next morning I found my new receiver kit outside the door. Now I could get back to what I had started.
A few weeks passed before anything of note happened. I had finished building the second receiver, and it was a fairly painless process since the electronics were decently similar to the previous kit. The most exciting thing to happen was successfully finding a signal from the Air Force base. It was from a warehouse, and all it ever broadcasted was how many crates were being brought in and how many forklifts they needed to bring said boxes in. Still, I had met my initial goal. Since then, I had purchased a third kit, this time one that promised to let you build essentially an advanced shortwave radio, that let you both broadcast and receive signals “in more advanced modes than any other available model.” Whatever that meant. As I unboxed the kit, I eyed the first receiver, which was still set up.
I had checked the signal again a little over a week ago, in hopes of finding different coordinates, charged by a vague hope that there was something more to this puzzle. I wasn’t surprised to find the same exact message still broadcasting. I figured that I should finally take the old receiver apart, if only to clear some space for the new kit. As I sat down in front of it, I figured that I may as well check the signal one last time. Just in case. As I dialed in the signal, I listened listlessly to the sounds. However, I jolted up as I realized. The signal was different. It was very clearly different. The biggest indication was that the separating tone was slightly altered, this time sounding deeper and less musical. Not only that, but the “dits and dahs” of the sections were patterned differently, it seemed that there were now three sections, instead of two. It seemed my delusions of a greater conspiracy or puzzle weren’t as unlikely as I had once thought. I quickly began recording a section, eager to begin a transcription of the new signal. As soon as I translated the first “dit dit dit,” it became clear that it wasn’t another coordinate. These were letters, not numbers. When I first found this, I briefly imagined that this time there would be some sort of riddle I would get to solve. But it wasn’t anything so crypt. It was just a message.
The message was broken into three parts, the first being: “SORRY I MISSED YOU LAST TIME.”
Well, this was fitting. I obviously missed any sort of contact I was supposed to make at the hatch. Possibly they were waiting for someone to solve the signal, but just happened to be gone when I showed up. I supposed that was possible. I briefly thought that I might have run into a geocache-type puzzle inadvertently when I first found the signal, this seemed to support that idea.
The next message read: “I WILL MAKE YOUR NEXT VISIT WORTHWHILE.”
There was a strange feeling to how that message was written, but I ignored that feeling, as this seemed to bring my idea together. They had simply missed my arrival, or hadn’t been ready for someone to solve the signal yet. This must mean that next time I would go I’d finally find what was supposed to be there. I was already beginning to think about what to bring and when I should leave for the hatch, but realized that I still had the final message. I felt myself seize up as I finished the last message.
It read: “BRING GIRL FROM THIRD FLOOR SHE SEEMS NICE.”
I don’t think I’ve ever, or will ever, feel the excitement drain out of me, as quickly as it did then.
This requires some explanation, in order to understand why this disturbed me so effectively. I live on the top floor of a four-story apartment building. No one in the building trusts the decrepit elevators as they shake violently when used. The landlord refuses to fix or replace them, claiming that they “pass established safety standards.” This means that everyone takes the stairs. On occasion, when I get home or leave for work, I run into a girl who lives on the third floor. We only typically exchange a word or two as we pass each other going up or down the stairway. Most people would reason that this whole thing must be a set up by their friends, some elaborate prank. The reason I knew that it couldn’t be that, is because I had never told anyone about this. These exchanges with her had only begun recently, and there had been no reason to have it come up in any conversation. That’s why it got to me, there was no explanation for how the person who had sent that message, had known about this girl. I quickly went down to the third floor, hoping somehow that something there could explain the message.
When I got to the third floor, I rapidly scanned the room for any explanation as to how these minor exchanges with the girl could have been seen. The floors were organized into long hallways with apartment doors on each side, the elevator and stairs on one far side, and a blank wall on the opposite. I couldn’t find any explanation. No windows, no vents, not even a crack in the wall. I was exasperated. There was nothing. The only object on the entire floor was the vending machine leaning against the blank wall. Looking at the vending machine was the only thing that brought me a smile. The machines, located on every floor, had been an attempt by the cheapskate landlord in order to make some extra money. But, when he realized how long it took for the vending machines to sell their inventory, he decided to scrap the idea, and stop refilling the machines. He didn’t even want to spend the money to get them taken away. This had been years ago, the machines were emblazoned with outdated ads and discontinued sodas. It sat there, unplugged, a testament to his failed plan. I chuckled briefly as I walked up to the machine. I was about to head back up to my apartment, and try to further puzzle out if this whole signal scenario was one giant coincidence, when something caught my eye.
The coin return slot on the machine was open. I bent down absentmindedly to see why, distantly hoping some ancient quarter had been left behind in the slot, a keepsake for the story of the failed machine. However, as I looked inside the slot, I saw something altogether different. It appeared that some sort of metal bar was keeping the door open, but that wasn’t what had caught my attention. The metal bar was attached to some sort of small camera. The camera had a strange oblong lens that occupied the entirety of the slot, making the camera look like it was made for the slot. As I pulled out the camera, I turned it over in my hand. It looked like it was homemade, since it didn’t have any kind of plastic shell or markings that identified any product maker. I searched for any way to turn the camera off, but it didn’t seem to have any. I didn’t want to destroy it, so I quickly ran back up to my apartment, and put a piece of electrical tape over the lens. I realized as I got back, that there were old vending machines on every floor of the building. I quickly went from floor, to floor, checking the coin return slots. Each time, I found another camera. Each one was slightly different, as if they were jury-rigged out of junked electronics. I sat down, dumbstruck, staring at the four cameras as they sat on my desk.
It was clear that this wasn’t some just a game or puzzle that was being played out here. I had my explanation for the message, but it was a much darker one than I was hoping for. I had no idea how long the cameras had been there. I tried to remember when the last time I talked to the girl from the third floor. I could only be sure that it had been at least a week. This was way over my head. I loved solving puzzle, but this was a little much for me to deal with. I decided that the only course of action that made sense was to go to the police. I figured that this at least violated some kind of privacy law, and I hoped that would be enough to warrant some kind of action on their part. It was still early, so I went to the police station within an hour of finding the cameras. When I got there, I explained at the front desk what I was there for. When I showed them the cameras, they had me sit down and explain to an officer exactly what had happened. I told the officer what had happened, explained why I was so concerned, and finally, hoping to win some extra support, suggested that there might be even more cameras than what I had found. Thankfully, the officer immediately believed me, explaining that had he worked a number of voyeurism and stalking cases, and it was clear that I wasn’t making it all up.
Since I didn’t have any connection to this person, he figures that the person isn’t a stalker; he figured it was a voyeur who was “getting off” on following me around and watching me with the cameras.
He told me: “He’s probably figured out that you know, and that means he’s probably done with you. As soon as you show you’re more trouble than you’re worth, they disconnect. That’s been my experience with them.”
I asked him about the signal, and about the message. Why lead me to him? Why give away that he’s watching me?
He shrugged. “Maybe it adds to it? These people love a sense of danger to the situation, you know? The idea that they might get caught at any time. They get something out of that kind of feeling.”
Regardless of how violated I felt being watched like that, I was at least relieved knowing that it was over.
Then something happened that I didn’t see coming, the officer asked me to lead him, and two others to where the hatch was. He claimed that they might be able to catch him there, since it seemed the person wanted me to come back to the hatch, judging by the message he put out.
I asked if it was appropriate for me to come with them, and the officer responded: “Hell, you seem like an honest guy. I figure seeing us grab the guy would help you get some closure.”
I wasn’t as sure. Thinking about going back to the hatch filled me with this a kind of dread that made me feel sick. I reluctantly agreed to lead them to the forest, to the hatch.
When we arrived at the forest, I began to show them where the hatch was located. As we climbed through the same mess of vegetation that I had a few weeks ago, I had this strange feeling come over me. It was the same kind of heated knotting you get in your chest when you’re doing something wrong, something that you know you shouldn’t be doing. I felt this heat in my chest the entire way to the hatch. When we arrived, my heart sank. The hatch was open.
As we approached the hatch door, the officer whispered that he would check it out first.
He approached, peered in, then shouted “If someone is in there, come out now! This is the police!” A dreadful silence seemed to grow from the shelter’s hatchway.
He shouted again: “Come out now! This is your final warning!”
The shelter seemed defiant in its silence. He began to descend the stairs into the shelter.
He called out: “All clear! Looks like nobodies home!”
The other officers back down the ladder. I waited outside, shrouded in silence.
The officer called out “Hey buddy! You can come down if you like; you’re not going to believe this!”
I started for the hatch, and then froze. I felt a horrible fear overtake me, I shook myself, and it passed. I descended the ladder. As soon as I got inside, I looked around the room. I wasn’t quite sure what to think.
The inside of the shelter was circular in design; the curved walls were off-white and seemed to create a feeling of openness in the cramped shelter. I half-expected the light above us to it to start flickering, but it never did. Inside the shelter was a computer, if you could call it that.
