ТРАНСКРИПТ

[Dial tone] Operator: Sheriff’s Department, Jansen speaking. Alfie: Evenin’, Jansen. Alfie Myers here. I been pickin’ up somethin’ strange on the shortwave—keeps loopin’. Sounds like “veenahmaneeyeh – povtor… ooblisk…” every thirty seconds or so. Gives me the creeps. Like one o’ them Cold War spy flicks. Operator: Uh-huh. Russian numbers or some such. That’s just foreign military or maritime stuff, Alfie. Been around for decades. Weird but harmless. Alfie: Still, it don’t sit right. Same words, same rhythm. Like a pattern. I figured maybe I oughta call it in, just in case. Operator: Sure. Appreciate the heads-up. But I wouldn’t lose sleep over it. These things pop up now and then. Nothing ever comes of it. Alfie: Yeah. I guess. It just got under my skin a bit. Operator: Shortwave’ll do that. Picks up all sorts of noise from halfway across the world. Easy to spook yourself if you’re listenin’ too long. Alfie: Yeah… yeah, that’s probably it. Operator: You alright out there? Alfie: Suppose so. Gets a little quiet this time o’ year. Long nights. Not many folks passin’ through. Operator: Still got that old mutt? Alfie: Nah, he passed in October. Been just me since. Operator: Sorry to hear that. You ever think about movin’ closer in? You’re only out there ‘cause you’re stubborn. Alfie: Heh. Ain’t that the truth. I dunno, Jansen. Sometimes I think I hear stuff that ain’t there. Especially in the winter. Wind through the trees, branches knockin’. This signal—maybe it ain’t nothin’, but it felt like somethin’. Operator: Well, we logged it. If it turns into somethin’, you’ll be the first to say “told you so,” alright? Alfie: Fair enough. Appreciate you takin’ the call. Operator: Anytime, Alfie. Keep the kettle on and stay warm. Alfie: Will do. Night, Jansen. Operator: Night. [Call ends]