Coin #2 - Quantum Coin (7 page)

Ephraim sat next to Zoe and examined the radio while she pulled a pair of old metal headphones around her neck and placed a microphone carefully in front of her. The polished tin plate screwed into the front of the machine read “RCA AR-88 Radio Receiver.”

“This is how you've been communicating with Nathaniel?” Ephraim asked. He glanced at Zoe's reflection in one of the three glass panes covering the large dials on the radio's face.

“Beautiful, isn't it?” she asked, patting the radio's chassis with her right hand. He noticed a tattoo on the inside of her wrist: a barcode with a string of numbers printed beneath it. His gaze traveled along her bare arm, up to her shoulder, then her face.

“Yeah,” he said, finally meeting her eyes.

She tilted her head and smiled. “What is it?”

“Um. I was just wondering, what happened to your nose ring?” he asked.

“The piercing got infected,” she said. “And I guess I never bothered to put the stud back in. I only got it to piss off my father anyway.”

“Too bad. I liked it,” he said. “But the new tattoo's nice. Have they started tagging citizens here?”

She jerked her arm down to her lap and held it against her stomach to hide the tattoo.

“Did you get that to piss off your dad, too?” he asked.

“No. This was for me.”

“Let me guess: A library thing? The barcode from your favorite book?” he asked.

“Something like that. It's private, Ephraim.”

Then it shouldn't be on your wrist.
“Okay. I'm sorry,” he said.

He turned back to the radio, the only safe thing to look at when she was sitting this close to him.

“Let me show you how this works,” she said. She sounded relieved.

She twisted the knob in the lower left corner from “Off” to “Rec. C.W.” It clicked into place, and an amber glow lit each of the dials.

“It takes a little time to warm up,” she said.

The large dials on the left and right of the radio panel were labeled “Tuning” and “Tuning Meter.” Their purpose seemed clear enough, but the smaller dial in the center above the round red and white RCA logo was marked for something called “Vernier.”

He counted ten small knobs labeled things like “Tone,” “Noise Limiter,” “Range,” and “Audio Gain.” The big knob in the center was also labeled “Tuning.”

“I can't believe this old radio can contact another universe,” he said.

“It's not old, it's
vintage.
Respect my ham shack,” Zoe said.

“So how can a
vintage
radio receive signals from another dimension?” Ephraim said.

“I made some custom modifications to the radio and mounted a thirty-foot homebrew antenna on the roof that boosts the range. Turns out, I'm kind of a genius with this stuff.”

“I know you like old TV shows and books, but how did you get interested in antiques?” he asked.

“This is the closest thing the Kims have to a family heirloom. It belonged to my grandfather. I'd forgotten all about it until Nathaniel suggested setting up an emergency channel. I had fun learning all this stuff. I guess it's in my blood.”

A wooden crate next to her bed was stuffed with coiled cable, stacked soldering boards, computer chips, glass tubes, and printed schematics. Ephraim pulled out a worn instruction manual for the “General Purpose Communications Receiver Model AR-88.” He carefully thumbed through its brittle, yellowed pages. He skimmed a diagram filled with technical terms that he couldn't make any sense of.

“What's a, uh, ‘vibrator power supply’?” he asked, reading from a list of parts.

Zoe eyed him suspiciously.

“Hey, Zoe?” Jena said.

Ephraim spun his seat around and saw his girlfriend's head poking from the open bathroom door. He felt guilty for forgetting she was cleaning up and changing clothes while he was talking to Zoe.

“Do you have anything a little less, um…skanky?” Jena asked.

Zoe raised her eyebrows. “Sorry, I just packed my non-skanky clothes away with my winter wardrobe.”

The bathroom door opened the rest of the way, and Jena slunk out with a glum expression. She tossed her prom dress onto Zoe's bed and hugged her arms over her chest.

She was wearing a clingy black tank top, denim shorts, and navy Chucks. Except for the colors, the outfit was identical to Zoe's ensemble of a blue tank and red Chucks. She looked just as stunning as her analog, but showing that much skin clearly made her uncomfortable.

“Here,” Zoe said. She pulled a baby-blue hoodie from the back of Ephraim's chair and tossed it to Jena.

“Thanks for letting me borrow your clothes. Everything fits perfectly.” Jena zipped up the hoodie.

“Good. I was worried they'd be a little snug on you,” Zoe said.

Jena gritted her teeth.

Ephraim coughed. “You guys are so cute in your matching outfits. Just like—” He stopped himself when he saw Jena's expression change as she remembered what had happened to Mary and Shelley.

“Uh, you should check this out, Jena,” Ephraim said. He stood and gestured to his seat in front of the radio.

Her face brightened. “Is that Grumps' radio?” Jena asked. She hurried over and sat next to Zoe.

“‘Grumps’?” Ephraim asked. He perched on the edge of the desk, scooting some books back with his butt to make room.

“That's what I called my grandfather when I was three,” Jena and Zoe said simultaneously. “Stop that,” they said.

Ephraim laughed. They both glared at him in perfect sync.

“Not funny,” they said.

“You're right. It's getting spooky,” he said. “So was he grumpy or something?”

“He was the sweetest, smartest man I've ever known,” Jena said.

“I just called him that because I couldn't say ‘grandpa’ yet. And it stuck,” Zoe said.

“Where did you find this?” Jena asked.

“It's been in the attic since he passed away,” Zoe said.

“Here too?” Jena said. She ran a hand across the radio's chassis. “It looks terrific.”

“Thanks. I refinished it. Everything but this.” Zoe pointed out some letters and numbers scratched into the top corner of the case.

Ephraim stood to get a better look at it. “WB2IXW,” he read. “I don't get it.”

“That was his call sign,” Jena said. She brushed her fingers over the engraved letters. “It actually works?”

“Like new,” Zoe said. “Actually, better than new. I had to replace some parts, and I upgraded a few components with modern technology. There's a bunch of Internet forums that gave me some tips on repairing it, and you can order everything really cheaply.” She fiddled with some wires behind the radio. “The hacker nerds at school were all too happy to help. We even started a ham radio club. There used to be one at Summerside High in the sixties. We figure when we get drafted, we can get into radio operations and engineering. The kind of thing that makes it less likely you'll be shot at.”

“I always meant to try this out,” Jena said. “Grumps loved it so much.”

“It's not that hard. I can teach you the basics. You'll probably pick it up even more quickly than I did.”

“Thanks.”

Jena and Zoe looked at each other awkwardly for a moment, as if unsure how to proceed without sniping at each other.

“I'd still like to know how you can reach Nathaniel's universe with this,” Ephraim said.

“I'll show you.” Zoe tugged the plug of the headphones out of its jack, and static hissed over the small speaker beside the radio. She nudged a knob, and the volume increased.

“During the summer, sporadic E propagation in the ionosphere sometimes allows the six-meter wavelength band to pick up transmissions from all over the world, depending on certain conditions,” Zoe said. “With a tall enough antenna and the right amounts of sunspot activity, cloud ionization, and luck, you can experience some amazing and unique radio phenomena and make contact with other countries. It's called DXing. That's why hams—ham radio operators—call the six-meter band the ‘magic band.’”

“Magic, huh?” Ephraim said. “I've heard that before.”

Jena picked up a stack of rumpled schematics. “This receiver isn't rated for the frequency range you'd need.”

Zoe smiled. “It is now. I found a 50 mHz converter online. Imagine: People might be talking to parallel universes all the time through the magic band. But no one ever realizes it. Even if you found someone else who spoke the same language as you, you'd hardly think to confirm you were both in the same dimension.”

“How'd you figure this out?” Jena asked.

“Nathaniel told me what to look for. I found everything online. Ham forums are great resources for beginners.”

“Is that when he told you not to destroy the controller?” Ephraim asked. His question sounded harsher than he'd intended, but she didn't react.

“He instructed me to DX the magic band every Saturday before school for half an hour. As soon as I got back here, I rescued the receiver from the attic and started setting up my shack.” She spun the dial slowly, and snatches of words crackled from the radio. “It's not like I had anything better to do.”

“Are we hearing people in parallel universes right now?” Jena asked.

“Not yet. I need parts from the controller to really boost the signal.” Zoe pulled the controller from her pocket.

“You aren't going to take it apart again,” Ephraim said.

“No need,” she said. She rummaged around behind the radio and grabbed the end of a bare copper wire. She slid a small antenna from the top of the controller and coiled the wire tightly around it.

“I didn't notice that antenna before,” Ephraim said.

“I added it. It's just a conductor. It connects to the controller's motherboard so I can plug it into the radio without cracking the controller open,” Zoe said. “There.”

The speaker went nuts. Dozens of overlapping voices spilled out at once.

“Wow,” Zoe said. “There's a lot of activity tonight. Most of the time I can't pick up anything at all.”

Zoe worked through the dial incrementally. Static hissed, then they heard a series of strange beeps.

“Morse code?” Jena asked.

“Just interference,” Zoe said. She clicked a knob over three settings, and the noise cleared a bit. “None of it ever makes any sense.” She pointed at the dial. “I think this is the frequency where I heard Nathaniel's SOS this morning. It's hard to say. These old radio dials are very imprecise. I should really install a more accurate digital tuner, but I hate to spoil the elegance of the original design.”

All Ephraim heard from the speaker was something like Darth Vader breathing.

“This is CHARON2 to CHARON1. Do you read?” The microphone had a squeeze bar that Zoe pressed to transmit while she spoke. She relaxed her grip. “No answer.”

Ephraim crouched beside her chair. “We can't wait until next Saturday.”

“We couldn't get through with the Charon device for a reason, and I'm hoping he'll realize that and will be listening for us,” Zoe said. “Unfortunately the magic band is kind of fickle.”

Ephraim rested his hand on the radio. The casing was warm and hummed gently under his fingers. This machine was older than the three of them combined. It was antiquated tech, but he knew as much about how it worked as he did the coheron drive. It might as well have been magic to him.

A sharp tone blasted from the speaker. He lifted his hand and backed away while Zoe turned down the volume on the speaker.

“What did you do?” she asked.

“I don't know. I barely touched it!” he said.

He moved his hand closer to it, but nothing happened until he touched the case. The same loud tone shrilled out of the speaker.

“Ephraim, what's in your pocket?” Jena asked.

“Huh?” He realized his other hand was in his pocket holding the coin: an old habit that had come back way too easily. He pulled the coin out and tapped it against the radio's metal chassis. The sound got sharper when it made contact.

“Interesting,” Zoe said.

“I have an idea,” he said. “Zoe, pick up the controller?”

As soon as she touched it, more static hissed. They heard fragments of words, random syllables. She touched the radio with her other hand, and the machine began to thrum.

“Huh,” Zoe said.

“Open it,” Ephraim said.

She flipped the controller open, and he placed the coin into its slot. The static dropped away to a gentle, steady hiss in the background.

“You did it!” Jena said. “You did something, anyway.”

The coin lifted off an inch and hovered over the controller. Static sizzled and popped on the radio, and the coin trembled in midair.

Ephraim nudged the tuning dial on the radio to the right, and the horizontal coin tilted gently in the opposite direction, torquing slightly along its y-axis. He kept turning the dial through the frequencies, through silence, then white noise, and then people speaking in different languages. As he tuned different frequencies, Washington's face slowly rotated clockwise, and the coin turned around and over.

“‘We are controlling transmission,’” Jena intoned in a deep voice. “‘We will control the horizontal. We will control the vertical.…You are about to participate in a great adventure. You are about to experience the awe and mystery which reaches from the inner mind to
The Outer Limits.’”

Zoe slapped Ephraim on the shoulder. “Eph, you're stupid brilliant!” She leaned over the controller, the neck of her tank top dipping.

“Eyes on the coin, Ephraim,” Jena warned in a low voice.

“Nothing I haven't seen before,” he muttered.

Jena punched him hard on his other shoulder.

“Mmph,” he said.

Zoe grinned. “You've boosted the signal by like five hundred percent. We could probably talk to
aliens
right now. The radio's getting every frequency out there, and I think it's getting multiple signals from each. The neat trick is going to be parsing out the one we need out of all the possibilities. Keep tuning that big dial. I'll take these other two,” she said, gesturing to the smaller dials flanking it on the radio.

Ephraim spun the dial back in the other direction, and the coin repeated its aerobatics in reverse. He kept it moving slowly, and the coin gradually turned belly-up until it was showing tails, with an image of the island of Puerto Rico and a tiny frog.