The modification to the radio transmitter took eighteen hours. Dr. Okafor worked with the focused intensity of someone who understood that every minute mattered, while Maya kept watch and maintained the regular broadcasts. She'd changed her message, broadcasting information about the reversal attempt and coordinates for other Resistant communities.
"This is KPDX emergency broadcast. Dr. Sarah Okafor and I will be attempting to transmit a counter-signal to reverse the Silence at 2:00 PM Pacific Time today. All Resistant individuals are advised to find secure locations and focus on positive memories of human connection during the transmission. Repeat, focus on memories of human connection."
As the appointed time approached, Maya felt a mixture of terror and hope that reminded her of childhood—the specific fear that comes with wanting something so badly that getting it seems impossible.
Dr. Okafor had connected her equipment to the station's main transmitter, creating a hybrid system that could broadcast both the calculated counter-frequency and the neural patterns of the operators. Two chairs sat before the modified control panel, each wired with electrodes that would monitor and transmit their brain activity.
"Remember," Dr. Okafor said as they took their positions, "think about connection. Think about the people you've lost, the community you want to rebuild. Let yourself feel the longing for human contact."
Maya closed her eyes and let her mind drift to the morning commute she used to report on. Thousands of people moving through the city, each carrying their own dreams and fears and hopes. She thought about Jake, her pilot, who'd helped her land the helicopter safely after the Silence but had wandered away two days later, his resistance finally failing. She thought about her mother, somewhere in the Silenced population, her brilliant mind reduced to basic survival instincts.
"Initiating transmission," Dr. Okafor said.
The counter-signal began as a low hum, barely audible, but Maya could feel it in her bones. The electrodes on her temples warmed as the system read and amplified her neural patterns. She focused harder on her memories, on the love and loss and desperate hope that had kept her broadcasting into the void for three months.
Through the station's windows, she could see movement in the empty streets. Silenced individuals, drawn by some instinct they couldn't name, emerging from buildings and wandering toward the radio station. They moved without urgency, but with purpose, as if following a signal only they could hear.
"It's working," Dr. Okafor whispered. "Look at the biometric readings."
On the scientist's tablet, brain wave patterns from across the city were changing. The flat, minimal activity of the Silenced was spiking, showing increased activity in regions that had been dormant since the original signal.
But something was wrong. Maya could feel it in the changing frequency of the transmission, see it in the way Dr. Okafor's expression shifted from hope to concern.
"What is it?" Maya asked.
"There's interference. Something's blocking the signal."
High above them, beyond the reach of Earth's atmosphere, something was responding to their transmission. The entities that had sent the Silence had been waiting, monitoring, preparing for exactly this moment. The test wasn't over—it was entering its final phase.
Dr. Okafor's equipment registered the interference as it built in intensity. "Maya, we need to boost the signal. Whatever's blocking us is getting stronger."
"How?"
"More neural input. We need more Resistant individuals connected to the system."
Maya looked out at the growing crowd of Silenced people gathering around the radio station. Among them, she spotted figures moving with the purposeful gait of the Resistant—survivors who had heard her broadcast and come to help.
"I'm going to let them in," she said.
"Maya, we don't know if—"
"We don't have a choice."
Maya left Dr. Okafor monitoring the equipment and ran downstairs to the main entrance. Through the reinforced glass, she could see three Resistant individuals pushing through the crowd of Silenced. One was a young man with the lean build of a runner, another was an older woman carrying medical supplies, and the third was a teenage girl who looked like she'd been living rough for months.
Maya opened the door. "Are you here about the transmission?"
"Heard your broadcast," the older woman said. "Dr. Elizabeth Santos, former chief of psychiatry at OHSU. If you're trying to reverse the Silence, I want to help."
"Marcus Webb," the young man said. "I've been maintaining the emergency shelter downtown. Whatever you need."
The teenager just nodded. "Ana. I'm in."
They climbed to the broadcast room, where Dr. Okafor was frantically adjusting settings as the interference continued to build. "The signal's getting stronger," she said without looking up. "Whatever's causing this has power levels far beyond anything on Earth."
"Then we match it," Dr. Santos said, studying the setup. "Human neural networks in parallel. I've studied collective consciousness phenomena—if we can synchronize our brain patterns, we might be able to amplify the signal exponentially."
Working quickly, they connected all five Resistant individuals to the transmission system. Maya took her position at the main controls, the others arranged in a circle around her. The interference was now visible through the windows as a strange aurora flickering across the daytime sky.
"Focus on connection," Maya said into her microphone, broadcasting to any Resistant still listening. "Focus on love, on community, on the bonds that make us human."
The counter-signal intensified, and for a moment, it seemed to be working. Throughout the city, the Silenced were stopping, looking around with confusion and dawning awareness. Some were calling out names, reaching for each other, beginning to remember who they had been.
Then the sky exploded with light.