Mither Vauque

1 week ago

@lowFrequency[LF]

[BROADCAST ENTRY] [ON AIR] Good morning, folks. /Seventh Echo/, tuning in. When was the last time you flipped through the news channels? Through each station of the radio? Have you noticed how if you flip at the right timing, the right frequencies... there's probably nothing? That's what we don't want you to believe. Now, I want to preface that Seventh Echo isn't a group of all truth-seekers looking for the truth all the time. Not a group of conspiracy theorists either... But isn't it /strange/? Maybe if you're not as attentive to those details as much as I am. Or if you're not as handsome as me, of course. Jokes aside, we think something is trying to communicate. I've been monitoring the /quieter portions/ of the spectrum for a few nights now, mostly because I have apparently decided that sleep is an optional activity. You get some very interesting things when you stop listening to the actual broadcasts and start listening to what sits /between/ them. /Carrier noise./ /Interference./ /Harmonics./ The occasional poor soul who has apparently discovered a transmitter and decided they are now the most important person on the frequency. And then there's /this/. It's weak. /Very/ weak. You wouldn't notice it unless you were specifically looking for it, which is probably why I didn't notice it at first. I thought it was /interference/. I checked the /receiver/, changed the /antenna/, isolated the /equipment/, checked the /power supply/, checked the neighboring frequencies, checked the neighboring /neighboring/ frequencies because apparently I enjoy /suffering/. /Nothing./ So naturally, I got /interested./ There is a repeating interval between the interruptions. Three short signals, one longer signal, then two short signals. Three. One. Two. Is that a code? /Probably not./ Could it be a code to further investigate? /Absolutely/. See, this is where things get fun. You can't just look at a signal and decide it /means/ something. That's how you end up seeing faces in static and spending six hours explaining to your coworkers that the moons are sending you /tax information/. Which, /for the record:, would be /extremely funny/. [LAUGH TRACK] But for real though, the spacing is /real/ I recorded it. Then I recorded it /again/. Then I made a separate recording with a /different/ receiver. Then I made /another/ one because I didn't trust the /second receiver/. Then I made one because I thought I was being /ridiculous/ for not trusting the second receiver. Then I made one because I thought it would be /funny/ to have a recording labeled "/the one where I finally stop being insane./" I did not stop being insane. I have /fourteen/ recordings. There /may/ be more. I have /not/ counted properly. Anyway, the pattern changes slightly between each recording, but not enough to be random. That's the /interesting/ \part\. If it were just interference, you'd expect the timing to drift around. Instead, it seems to maintain a /structure/ while changing /the actual intervals/. Which means either someone is deliberately \producing/ it, or I have stumbled across the world's most /organized piece of interference/. I like the second explanation less. The first one is /much/ more interesting. I've started cataloguing the frequencies, timestamps, duration, modulation characteristics, and signal strength. I've also started giving each occurrence a name because numbers are boring and I have to look at these things for hours. This one is "Three-One-Two." This one is "Long Boy." This one is "The Annoying One." And this one is "░░░░ You Again." Now, here's where I may have gotten slightly carried away. I noticed that the signal appeared more frequently after I started talking about it. The first time. \Remember\? That could mean /absolutely\ nothing. It could mean I'm subconsciously selecting the recordings that support what I already believe. That's a very real possibility. It's called /confirmation bias\, and I know about it because I have been corrected about it /several/ times. Thank you to everyone who corrected me, /by the way/. Anyway, I tested the idea. I stopped monitoring the frequency for about twenty minutes. Nothing happened. Then I turned everything back on. There it was. Three. One. Two. I changed the frequency. Nothing. Changed it again. /Nothing/. Went back. \Three\. \One\. \Two\. It happened again. I may have \found\ something worth following. Not necessarily some grand secret. Not necessarily a \hidden message\. It could be a technical oddity that nobody has bothered documenting yet. And if that's all it is? /Fantastic/. I love technical oddities. If it's something else? Even better because now I get to find out. So that's what we're doing tonight. We're going to keep /monitoring the frequency/, keep recording the interruptions, and keep seeing whether the sequence develops into anything /recognizable/. If you have a radio nearby, /you can listen along/. If you don't, that's fine. You can catch the recording when we post it to Chittr. If you think I'm completely ░░░░ing /insane/, that's also fine. We'll return after this break. And remember, folks, if you hear something strange on your frequency tonight, don't immediately assume you're being contacted by an ancient cosmic intelligence. Check your antenna first. Then it might be ancient cosmic intelligence sending signals to you /specifically/. That's just good radio etiquette. [LAUGH TRACK] ...Okay, that one was /funny/. We will return shortly.