“What’s taking them so long?” Fuego mumbles.
DJ idly flips through a pocket guide to necromancy. “Probably just resting after everything that just happened.”
Fuego shrugs. “Eh, probably.”
“You know Sebastian’s not always good with distance,” DJ adds, “Give him a minute, he’ll be fine.”
DJ returns to their reading, and Fuego looks back down at the ground. Meanwhile, Juniper paces the cul-de-sac, holding a little pink brick-phone to the skies.
“There’s no coverage here,” she grumbles, “Any of you guys getting a signal?”
“Why are you on your phone?” DJ asks, slightly bitter at the reminder of technology.
“I was gonna tell Creo that we’re staying here for a while so he doesn’t flip out later tonight,” Juniper replies, “See? I’ve got everything typed out in plain text here!”
DJ begrudgingly looks up from their book as Juniper shows them her phone. DJ squints, puzzled at the words and numbers on the screen. The code, they remember, is something Juniper and Adderall called “Leet Speak”. They wish they didn’t understand it. Then again, maybe the headache they got from reading it would be worse.
DJ is sarcastic in their delivery. “Plain text? I feel like I’m getting the warning signs of a migraine reading it.”
“Maybe if you actually had a phone instead of just having a computer you’d be more used to it.”
DJ stares at Juniper for a moment. As if I wasn’t alive in 2012, they think to themselves.
“Sure, maybe,” they reply, “Have you tried calling him yet?”
“I did, but every time he picks up it’s just garbage noise on the other end. It’s like, Morse or something.”
“Morse, huh? Can you try calling him again? Maybe we can all try and decipher something.”
Juniper clicks out a string of numbers on the keypad before handing the phone to DJ. DJ presses a button, and soon the tones of ringing can be heard amongst the group. Ikimono doesn’t dare go up to them, but they listen from where they stand. Soon, the tones click to an open call.
“Creo?” DJ begins, “Creo, can you hear me? It’s DJ. We’re trying to figure out what’s going on with the optics out here.”
The noise from the other end is a garbled mass of Morse code, high-pitched screeching, and glitched noise. DJ recoils in surprise when it begins.
“Creo? You’re not coming through clearly,” DJ continues, “Can you hear me?”
The noise continues.
“I’m taking that as a yes, Creo. Look, we found ourselves a gig at the circus and we’re gonna stay for a while. We’re not killing anything. I don’t know how much we’re getting paid, either. We’re just going to stay at the circus for a while. Creo? Creo?”
The terrible garbage noise has faded out into white static. DJ looks up from the phone, hoping for someone to say something or at least for the noise to change. Then, the call hangs up on its own. DJ looks at the phone again, then hands it back to Juniper.
“Dammit,” DJ grumbles.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“See?” Juniper says, “I don’t know what the deal is with it.”
“I think Sebastian told me one time that having strong electricity nearby something like a phone can interfere with its signals or something,” Fuego adds, “I’m not sure about that though, you’d have to ask him about it.”
“Where’d we be getting the electricity from, though?” Adderall asks, “Are neurons like this enough?”
“Probably,” Ikimono chimes in, “Sometimes when anxiety’s running high, the neurons surge. I’ve seen blackouts caused by fear.”
“Huh,” Juniper says, “Didn’t know they could do that.”
Sebastian and Peony walk over to join the group. They’re quietly welcomed by Juniper and Fuego before DJ starts to brief them.
“We just tried to call Creo, and we had some sort of mess-up in the signal,” they explain, “Ikimono says it’s because of the neurons, but we figured we’d ask you before we go with anything.”
“Well, yeah,” Sebastian says, “When you have high enough electrical signals within reach of a transmitter or receiver, the transmission gets distorted. Not sure why neurons do that though. I mean, I think people only have 50 volts in them or something like that.”
“No, no, it’s 50,” Peony adds. “You’re right.”
“Right, but you figure there’s enough neurons to fill up a few thousand little people, or two or three big ones,” Fuego adds, “That’s surely enough power to throw something off.”
“Even then, a hundred thousand little people probably aren’t going to throw off a cell signal like that. If they’re evenly spread out, that is.”
“Evenly spread out,” Peony repeats, “What if this tree alone are those hundred thousand people all piled into one person? Surely you’d have enough then to corrupt something.”
“A hundred thousand people crammed into one?” Adderall asks, “That sounds like something out of a Soviet horror film.”
“Have you watched enough Soviet horror films to make that judgment call?” DJ teases with a smile.
“Of course!” Adderall beams.
“We’re getting off track,” Peony says, “Sebastian, a hundred thousand people crammed into one electrical source. What’s the interference?”
“I’m not sure, but that’s weird. I guess if this tree was the generator itself, it’d be easier to figure out. Does anyone have a multimeter and some graph paper?”
“I don’t know if we have time for that right now,” Fuego says, “Sebastian, what’s your conjecture?”
“I don’t know. I mean, if Ikimono says there can be fear-caused blackouts, I’d assume there’d be enough to interfere with a cell reception. Especially if we’re nervous or excited.”
“And if we can’t get a signal here, we probably can’t get one anywhere,” Juniper sighs.
“Thank you, Sebastian,” DJ smiles, “At least we know a little bit about our limits here.”
He nods. “Anytime, you know I love a good infodump.”
DJ nods. They turn to Ikimono and nod to them in thanks too.
“But how is Creo supposed to know we’re here?” Juniper protests, “If all we heard from him was garbage noise, who’s to say he didn’t hear it too?”
“I don’t think we need to worry about that,” DJ says, putting her concerns to rest, “I think, through all of that, he heard us.”
“How do you know?” Fuego asks.
“Oh, you know,” DJ says, “Just a bit of deja vu.”
…
Dearest Creo,
I’m not letting those kids alone. When King Frog tells you that there is no circus in Portar (as I’m sure he will), do not fight him. I will keep them safe for however long you need me to keep them safe for. I know that they’ll all keep an eye out for each other too. Between us, nobody should come to harm.
I’ll try my best to not intervene for their sake. I know you don’t like it when I do that. I know those kids are going to keep their backs together and try to stave off the danger. I think they know what’s coming too. DJ does, at least. If nothing else, I can count on them to keep everything under control. If things get out of hand, I’ll step in. I won’t save them, but I’ll help. Maybe get them to safety or distract someone so they can run. Nothing much. I hope you’ll forgive me in advance.
Please try your best not to worry. You worry enough about me as it is. I know these kids might as well be our own flesh and blood, but they can handle this. I know they can, and I know they will. I beg of you not to lose rest over them.
Sincerely yours,
Mr. Crick