People were slowly being transferred out of the position of radio operator. The radios, which had once been monitored around the clock by several people all tuned into different frequencies, were getting less and less attention as the months of silence dragged by. Having five people listening attentively to radio static couldn’t be justified, and the number of official radio operators was dwindling close to single digits. May had spent hours a day jumping between the sounds of white noise, sometimes with two or three other people, sometimes entirely alone. It almost felt like a form of torture, being subjected to the sound of nothingness in near total isolation, but May would never have given up the job. It was passive work, she would never be put in a position of authority as the radio operator, never have to make any of the tough decisions that could define another persons life.
Yes, she wanted to be a radio operator, or at least that was what she was trying to convince herself of as she punched out of work that day, right into the middle of a thunderstorm. It wasn’t safe to be in the building anymore, the long metal antennas that shot up into the sky, beckoning for thunder, meant that equipment, or people, were at risk of serious damage. So May and the other operator on shift had unplugged all the important pieces, turning off the radios. They wouldn’t pick anything up through this storm anyway. Assuming anyone was still around to send out something worth picking up.
May knew she should feel worried about leaving the station unmanned, and if this had happened before sectors had started going silent, she probably would’ve been forced to stay at her post, and ride out the storm in rubber gloves. But she was exhausted, the white noise still buzzed in her ears, and just cynical enough to assume that there would be nothing to miss during the radio silence. Lightening struck somewhere off in the distance, moving closer to the station. She picked up her pace, hesitating only a few seconds before ducking out into the rain. It took only a few seconds for her skin to start feeling whispers of chill that trailed goosebumps along her arms. She pulled her hood down further, then wrapped her arms around her waist, fists tucked under her arms. As if any of that could keep her warm. She nodded vaguely at her fellow operator, who returned the gesture before jogging down the street.
May watched him leave for a moment, remembering how her mother had told her that running in a storm would only result in her getting more soaked. She didn’t pretend to understand the logistics of it, but still she took the words to heart, and made a point to plod slowly down the street. Her shoes made an unpleasant noise as her steps sloshed water out from the sole. No one else seemed to have been forced out into the storm, the empty roads seemed foreboding. If she let her mind wander in the wrong direction, May could almost think herself entirely alone in the world. The thought was a mixture of horrifying and appealing. If she was all alone she wouldn’t have to worry about the radio anymore, or about the other groups when they went on missions. May was in the middle of wondering how awful being alone would end up being when a voice called out. She almost jumped out of her skin, her footsteps disturbed as her sneakers caught on the pavement. She turned to look at the speaker, jesus she was awful at faces, did she know this man? It took her a moment to find her words, replying in a dry tone, “I hadn’t noticed.” She returned his smile with a tense posture, trying to get her mind back in a place where other people existed, and she was expected to somehow figure out how to talk to them. Making conversation in the middle of a thunderstorm seemed like a strange thing to do, still, she tried to be polite. May maintained eye contact with the man as he stood in his doorway. He must’ve had a reason for calling her out.
snowghoul
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