Transmission Received

Ever since she had killed the others he'd been on the run.

Shadows, shortcuts, cheats--he'd known some, and now he knew them all. The complex, seated as it was in the old Auburn mineshafts, was extensive. The mines had once been visible from space, and the Company had undertaken to "restore" the land. It had done so marvelously--and simultaneously built one of the largest government research stations in history.

Now he was inhabiting it's air ducts and service tunnels as a fugitive.

Occasionally she would find one of his hideouts, rat's nests he carved out where he thought she wouldn't notice. Then he'd close the compromised room off from his network and continue finding new sources of food, water, and a mockery of sanity. He left hints of his existence, though: that woman--six sigma tenacity!--needed to know her struggle against her was not in vain.

The radios were his favorite. Simple, set up strictly for Company propaganda distribution, yet with a little adjustment they could bring in the Outside.

One of these was his current focus. A wire here, some solder here, oh, such delicate work!

Then, a delicate shift of that inductor's core--


Transmission received.