The mathematics filled three notebooks, dense with equations that made Maya's head spin. Dr. Okafor spread them across the broadcast desk, her hands moving quickly as she explained frequency modulations and neural pathway responses. Maya understood perhaps one word in ten, but she recognized the obsessive thoroughness of someone who had bet everything on being right.
"The original signal operated at 40.7 hertz, synchronized with gamma brain waves," Dr. Okafor explained, tapping a series of calculations. "But it wasn't just the frequency—it was the pattern, the way it interfaced with neural networks responsible for social cognition. I've been studying brain scans from Resistant individuals, comparing them with baseline data from before the Silence."
"You've had access to brain scanners?" Maya asked.
"Seattle Children's Hospital had a portable MRI unit. I've been traveling between survivor communities, documenting the neurological differences in Resistant individuals. We all show enhanced activity in specific regions—areas associated with independent thought and resistance to group influence."
Maya studied one of the brain scans Dr. Okafor had paper-clipped to her notes. Even to her untrained eye, the difference was stark. The Resistant brain showed bright clusters of activity in areas that appeared dim or inactive in the "normal" scans.
"So we were already different," Maya said. "Before the Silence."
"Not different—just more resistant to certain types of neural entrainment. It's like immunity to a disease. Most humans are susceptible to the signal's effects, but a small percentage have natural resistance."
"And you think you can use that resistance to create an antidote."
Dr. Okafor nodded. "The reversal signal needs to be broadcast by a Resistant individual while they're in a state of active social cognition—thinking about connections, relationships, community. The neural patterns of a Resistant person in that state create a kind of template that can be transmitted along with the counter-frequency."
Maya leaned back in her chair. "You want to use me as a biological transmitter."
"I want to use both of us. The effect is stronger with multiple Resistant individuals focusing on the same social memories simultaneously. We broadcast the counter-signal while concentrating on the people we want to reach, the communities we want to rebuild."
"And if it doesn't work?"
"Then we'll have tried everything science can offer. But Maya, I've been tracking atmospheric disturbances since the Silence began. There's something else coming. The original signal was just the first phase."
A chill ran down Maya's spine. "What do you mean?"
Dr. Okafor pulled out a tablet—one of the few electronic devices that still functioned properly—and showed Maya a series of graphs. "Radio telescopes around the world are picking up increased activity from the Lyra system. Complex transmissions, getting stronger each day. I think the entities that sent the Silence are preparing for phase two."
"Which is?"
"I don't know. But given that phase one was a test of our resistance to outside influence, I'm guessing phase two will be much more direct."
Maya looked out at the empty city, trying to imagine it filled with life again. Children playing in the parks, people arguing about politics, couples holding hands as they walked down the street. It seemed like a memory from another world.
"How long do we have?"
"Based on the signal strength progression, maybe two weeks before the next transmission reaches Earth."
Two weeks to bring back the world, or watch it end forever.
"All right," Maya said. "Let's try to save everyone."