Transcendence Awaits

Jake dreamt in colour. Warm, golden colour — the kind that turned everything perfect. He was standing by the school oval, watching Alex take a drink from the water tap near the fence. Sunlight caught the spray, turning it into tiny sparks. Alex tilted his head back, laughing at something Jake couldn’t hear.

Then Alex glanced over, water glistening on his face, and gave a cheeky grin. The dream froze there, framed like a slow-motion ad, ridiculous and perfect.

Jake’s stomach flipped, heart hammering, and just after Alex winked — he woke up, tangled in sheets, face burning.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, sitting up and trying to breathe like a normal person. The fan wheezed above him, stirring the heavy, wrong kind of autumn heat.

It was Monday morning. He groaned, knowing that, in a short time, he would be facing that school once again. And the dipshits that went there…well, not all of them. The misfits and Alex were his only incentive to go to school.

He padded into the kitchen, bare feet sticking to the warm lino. A note was pinned to the fridge, written in his mum’s familiar, rushed handwriting:

Back late. Don’t let the dog eat the postie again. – Mum.

The smell of burnt toast clung to the air. Jake poured cereal and turned on the morning news, trying to focus on something — anything — else.

The anchor, slick with sweat under the studio lights, was talking about another overnight blackout. “Unusual electrical disturbances across the valley,” she said, as shaky footage of lights over the lake flickered onscreen. Pale, fluid streaks of white-blue arcing through clouds, pulsing in rhythm.

Some experts called it, “solar interference.”

Then Muttley barked, loud and sharp. Jake sighed and walked to the back door, “What now, mate?”

The dog stood stiffly by the fence, growling at nothing. Not a bird, not a branch — just a patch of air shimmering faintly in the morning light like a heat haze. Jake thought it was just his eyes playing tricks on him.

“Muttley, stop it!”

The dog whimpered once and sat back on his haunches, eyes fixed on the empty space.

The hairs on Jake’s arms rose. The warmth in the yard wasn’t normal; it pulsed, almost alive. Then, just as quickly, it faded.

“Well, that was weird.”

He soon had the bathroom fogged up from the shower, the mirror a white blur. Jake swiped a hand across it and stared at himself through the streaks.

He didn’t know what he expected — maybe some overnight transformation, some version of himself that finally looked like he belonged in his own skin. Instead, it was just Jake. Ordinary Jake.

He turned his head this way and that, trying to see what everyone else seemed to have figured out. He wasn’t awful looking, he supposed. He skated enough to stay lean, and his shoulders had finally caught up with his height. But still — everything felt unfinished. His hair did whatever it wanted. His face never quite decided if it was still a kid’s or something older.

And then there was the invisible stuff — the uncertainty that clung like static. The part of him that tightened up whenever Alex walked into a room, making words vanish from his mouth.

He sighed, “Shit! Not exactly heart-throb material.”

The mirror gave no argument.

He grabbed his deodorant and overdid it — a small, silly ritual of armour — then brushed his teeth like the fate of the world depended on it. A fresh T-shirt. Socks that almost matched. Shoes with the kind of scuff marks that came from trying tricks he wasn’t quite brave enough to land.

When he looked again, he still saw the same awkward teenager staring back — but now he managed a half-smile.

“You’ll do,” he told the mirror. “Just… don’t trip over your own tongue today.”

Outside, the street was quiet. Jake slung his backpack over one shoulder, gave the dog a vigorous tease, before stepping out into a morning that felt slightly out of order, just like he was.

*********

At school, the air-con was dead. Students wilted over desks like dying plants. Miss Wilkinson was in full stride, chalking the electromagnetic spectrum across the board.

“Light,” she said, tapping the chalk, “behaves as both wave and particle. A paradox we accept without understanding. Any questions?”

Miss Wilkinson looked like she’d stepped straight out of a physics convention and into a hurricane. Her lab coat was streaked with coffee and graphite; her hair, an uncontrolled auburn cloud, had more static than the Van de Graaff generator on her bench.

Where Ms Marlowe moved like moonlight—precise, deliberate, almost otherworldly—Miss Wilkinson darted from beaker to circuit board in a whirl of half-finished thoughts and enthusiastic exclamations.

The science teacher smelt faintly of ozone and peppermint gum, and had a knack for making the impossible sound like a spoken-word Mary Poppins song.

Sam’s hand shot up, “So technically, Miss, light must also have mass?”

“Not exactly,” she said, eyes glinting. “It has momentum, though — it can push, bend, burn. Imagine that: something weightless that still leaves a mark on everything it touches.”

Emma groaned, “Here we go again. Philosophy disguised as physics.”

“Call it what you like,” Miss Wilkinson said cheerfully. “Light changes what it meets, and what it meets changes it. I find that a fascinating concept. Don’t you, Miss Summers?”

Jake barely heard them. He was watching Alex a few rows ahead, doodling waves and spirals in the margin of his notebook—light patterns, looping endlessly into each other.

Alex always looked stylish and cute with dress shorts and patterned shirt; his top buttons were undone. Milk white chest with the beginning of dark hair. The beads of sweat glistening, almost enticing Jake.

He was still the new boy at school who kept to himself. Others tried to involve him in school yard politics, but the kid wanted no part of it. Jake had gotten a smile and a hello when passing in the corridor. Of course, Jake would blush and fumble his words as Alex walked away. He let many a moment get away.

Today, Jake needed to make a change if he wanted anything to happen between them. A conversation would be a good start.

**********

Later that day, Jake’s shirt stuck to his back as he kicked his board up off the bitumen, the bearings whining. The afternoon sun flashed on the lake below, a smear of white light that made his eyes water.

Alex was already down there by the jetty, stripped to a singlet, hair curling at his neck. Sweat pooling in places. He balanced his own deck on the railing, the tracks glinting.

The sight punched the air out of Jake’s lungs. So much for playing it cool. This is bull shit. He thought to himself. He’s just a guy! Why am I so freaked out? He had faced ghosts and possessed masks. This should be much easier.

Jake took a deep breath and said, “Nice... setup,” He called, trying for casual. The words came out two octaves higher than intended. His face reddened.

Alex glanced up, grinned, “So…you finally plucked up the courage.”

“What!”

“To chat me up! You’ve been eye fuckin me ever since I arrived at school.”

“That’s bull!”

“I’m not blind. I was flattered,” The boy smirked, noticing the skateboard in Jake’s grasp, “You ride or is it just for show?”

Jake flipped his board up, catching it one-handed, “Does this look for show?” Alex smirked. “I’ve been riding this thing since I could walk. You any good, or just posing for attention?”

That earned a laugh — low and easy, the kind that travelled, “Show me what you’ve got, Blondie.”

Jake tried to ignore the way Alex’s grin scrambled his insides. He pushed off, board clacking against concrete, sweat stinging his eyes.

“Bet you can’t clear the bins,” Alex called.

“Watch me.”

He nearly stacked it on landing, the board shooting out from under him. Alex lunged and caught his elbow, laughter spilling out, “Close one, Blondie.”

“You trying to kill me?”

“There would be no fun in that.”

They circled each other, trading moves and insults until sunset burned the lake orange. Jake caught himself watching the play of light on Alex’s arms, the faint scar running across his wrist. When Alex noticed him looking, he simply said, “Skate injuries. Mostly.”

Mostly. Jake wondered what the rest of that story was, “So how come you're so…reserved at school?”

“I’m just avoiding all the teen angst bull shit that comes from interacting with half those dip shits.” He sighed, “I’m on a cleanse. A people cleanse. I find it helps with my inner saboteur.”

“Is that what brought you to our school?”

“My parents thought I needed a fresh start…and bang here I am.” Alex noticed the rainbow band around Jake’s wrist, “So…are you out or just happy to see me in secret?”

“Oh, me? Shit yeah, I’m way out,” Jake said, the sarcasm almost covering the tremor underneath. “Can’t you tell by the mob of friends I’ve got buzzing around me?” He gave a short laugh that didn’t quite stick. “Yeah, that was the first thing to go — the friends. Turns out being gay’s cool everywhere except Crestwood, where it’s still the nineteen-fifties.”

He ran a hand through his hair, eyes on the ground, “I could’ve stayed safely invisible a bit longer if it wasn’t for school camp. Got sprung messing around with Mark Hample. Honest to God, it wasn’t even that risqué — we didn’t have a clue what we were doing. We were thirteen, we were curious. You know how it is.” He smirked faintly, “If you ask Mark now, time seems to have erased that curiosity — right before he introduces you to his girlfriend.”

Alex nodded in understanding. There was something about a shared experience that brought people closer together.

They spent the next hour trading ollies and kickflips, egging each other on, the lake breeze tugging at their hair.

When Jake finally landed a clean varial flip, Alex whooped and clapped. “Okay, you win. I’ll buy ya a Coke at the servo.”

Jake’s heart hammered, “Game for round two tomorrow?”

“Deal.”

Far up on the ridge, two figures stood beside a dark SUV, silhouettes cut sharp against the fading light.

The first was tall, broad-shouldered, a man whose posture belonged to military photographs—motionless except for the faint tilt of his head as he watched through binoculars.

The second, a woman shorter and leaner, rested one gloved hand on the open door, face hidden behind mirrored glasses that caught the last of the sunset and threw it back as silver flame.

**********

From a different vantage point, in the shade of a gum tree, Ben watched, pretending to scroll his phone. The laughter hit him like static. He knew that look on Jake’s face — open, reckless, happy.

The last time he’d seen it — that easy grin on Jake’s face — was years ago, back when they’d built the backyard ramp together, before everything had started to get weird between them.

Back then, they’d been joined at the hip — wrestling in the grass, daring each other to jump higher, sprawled side by side under the stars, sharing a packet of Tim Tams and stupid dreams. None of it had felt complicated. Touch had been a language all its own — harmless yet real.

Then puberty had crashed in like a bad joke. Voices cracked, moods flipped, and suddenly everyone was obsessed with who fancied whom. And boys certainly didn't behave like Jake and him. So Ben put a space between them to save both their reputations. Their closeness was lost to childhood.

Somewhere in that chaos, Ben had realised he didn’t fit the pattern. His thoughts didn’t line up neatly with Jake’s or with any of the other boys.

Damn it. Why was he looking at Jake like that? Jealous? Angry? He wasn’t sure which burned worse. He wasn’t like Jake… was he?

No. He liked girls. He was sure of it. But when Jake laughed, that same current shot through him — the one that made his stomach tighten and his chest go weird. And maybe that was what scared him most of all. Better to be a class clown around all that than face the truth. No one ever wanted to date the class clown.

Ben attempted to write a message to Jake: Stay over tonight? Then deleted it. He knew the answer anyway. Jake was distracted by his new crush.

The ride home felt longer than usual. His tyres buzzed against the bitumen, the streetlamps flickering in sympathy with his mood. At the corner store, he thought about buying milk, then remembered he had no money. He was skint. His dad had needed a six-pack so Ben went without. Again.

His dad was on the couch when he got home, beer balanced on his chest, TV light strobing his face, “Where ya fuckin been?”

“Thinkin.”

“Get ya fuckin head out of them clouds. Does ya no good.”

Ben dumped his backpack, started stacking empty bottles into a crate. Somebody had to clean up.

“Go on get the tea on…I’m starved.”

“With what! Can’t buy food with empty pockets!”

“You little smartass!” The man rose from his seat, a dark grimace creasing his face. “Ya got a smart mouth just like your mum used to have. Did her no good!” He grabbed the boy by his shirt front, “And won’t help ya...now get in there! Ya little fuck up!”

The man threw the boy towards the kitchen, giving him the evil eye until Ben disappeared inside.

He shook off his father's treatment. He didn’t faze him as much, these days, after ancient masks and ghostly villages. This was nothing.

Ben opened the fridge to find nothing but rotting leftovers and despair. He opened the cupboards and found some tinned food. Food bank contributions. That would have to do. He needed to drop by the Salvos for another box of donations for the cupboards.

Later, when the house fell quiet except for snoring and the hum of the fridge, Ben slipped out into the night. He needed to get some fresh air. He couldn’t stand being at home for too long. He needed to shake off the despair.

Two skateboards were resting against the wall of Jake’s house. Laughter rumbling from inside. Jake never had guests before now. It was usually just the five of them. Ben knew when he didn't belong.

Ben ventured onto the skate park. He sat on the half-pipe, listening to distant thunder, wishing Jake were there. The phone in his pocket vibrated once — a phantom buzz. No message.

*********

The next day, after school, cicadas buzzed like power lines. Jake and Alex lay on the jetty, boards beside them, sharing a packet of chips. Their hands brushing each other, causing a spark to pass between them. Alex smirked. Jake looked on coyly.

There was an undercurrent just below the surface, causing Jake’s inside to fizz up and his body to twitch with anticipation. The urges were growing. The stirrings, intensifying. Until their phones buzzed with notifications, each ping cutting the quiet and breaking the moment between them.

Then the pings stopped.

Jake frowned at the screen, “Shit! You got service?”

Alex shook his head, “Nah. Nothing. A dead zone.”

“Not again! So, what caused the ping?”

The air trembled — not with thunder, but with something lower, deeper. A vibration in their ribs.

The lake surface rippled, though no wind stirred. For a heartbeat, everything whitened, a flash so bright Jake thought lightning had struck. When his vision cleared, the chips were scattered, and Alex was sitting bolt upright, gasping, “What the—?”

Jake blinked. His phone clock read 4:14. He was sure it had been 4:11. Three minutes gone, “You okay?”

Alex rubbed his wrist. Pale frost marks ringed the scars on his wrists like burns, “I… think so. I haven’t been this much of a space cadet in a while.”

The water was perfectly still again, reflecting the sun.

The dark SUV was back in its usual place. Neither agent spoke. The air around them buzzed faintly. The woman lowered her binoculars. She gave a curt nod to the driver. The SUV eased back onto the dirt road and vanished between the trees, its taillights receding away.

********

At the same time, Lily sat cross-legged on her bed, pencil moving furiously over her sketchpad. She wasn’t thinking — just drawing. Lines looped and coiled, forming a spiral that seemed to shimmer even in graphite. When she stopped, heart racing, she realised she’d filled three pages with the same pattern.

Her phone buzzed; the notification was garbled text, then static. The static seemed to crawl under her skin. She pressed her palms to her ears, and the room shifted.

Suddenly, she was standing on the jetty at the lake — only it wasn’t her body. It was a memory of herself from before. A boy’s voice — her own, but not — called out, "Come on, Lily! It's be fun!"

The sky tore open with light. A sound like wind in reverse. Then she was back in her room, trembling, graphite dust on her hands.

She pulled out an old photo album from the bottom drawer. School pictures, pre-transition. A face she hardly recognised, smiling stiffly in a borrowed tie. A fake smile pretending to be okay when he was nothing but. She touched it gently. It’ll be okay…one day…you’ll understand why you don’t belong.

Lily felt as if someone had rummaged about in her past, trying to understand her.

*********

Ms. Marlowe’s classroom had always felt slightly out of step with the rest of Crestwood High — a place where history didn’t just hang on the walls, it breathed. Maps from forgotten centuries curled along the plaster, their edges browned like old toast. Shelves groaned with relics and curiosities: a cracked amphora, a brass compass that refused to point north, and a Kabuki mask whose expression seemed to change with the light. The air carried that familiar scent of parchment, chalk dust, and something faintly metallic — like rain on iron.

But lately, even her space was being impacted by the anomalies. The maps had begun to shift ever so slightly when no one was watching, their borders creeping like ink in water. The old globe in the corner spun on its own, stopping over a stretch of the ocean that may or may not contain the last remnants of Atlantis.

Even the temperature in the room seemed undecided — one moment stifling, the next cold enough to raise goosebumps.

And then there was the clock.

A grand, brass contraption that had always been peculiar, it now ticked in fits and starts, its hands twitching as though caught in a dream. Sometimes it ran backwards. Sometimes it stopped altogether, the air thickening with the sound of silence before stuttering back to life.

This contraption was the mechanism that would usually take them to the past, but even it was amiss these days.

Ms. Marlowe, ever composed, pretended not to notice. But her students did. She stood before them, hands folded, eyes scanning the restless class, “My dears,” she began, “I’m told oddities that we're currently experiencing are being caused by an electrical surge. Nothing to be alarmed about.”

Her voice carried calm authority, but Jake, sitting with the misfits, caught the faint twitch of her fingers at the chain around her neck. The silver medallion glowed for a heartbeat — then dulled.

Jake caught Emma’s eye across the hall. They had all seen strange things before — masks that whispered, a teacher who vanished into a cupboard — but none of it made the new weirdness any easier to swallow.

“However,” she continued, “if any of you experienced dizziness, ringing in the ears, or missing time, please let me know.”

Ben muttered, “Hey, miss, sounds just how I feel when I stand too close to the microwave.”

Beside him, Emma raised an eyebrow, “Missing time? Ducks, I think we’re in trouble again.”

By recess, even the sceptics were nervous. Phones died, then rebooted in Latin. No one knew Latin. Yet if they could, it would be saying, Are you ready! We are coming!

*********

Sam hovered at the door of the science lab while Miss Wilkinson coaxed a reluctant Bunsen burner into life, “Miss, can I ask something about frequencies?”

“If it involves frying the school’s Wi-Fi again, the answer is no.” She smiled without looking up. “But go on.”

He placed his breadboard on the counter—wires, LEDs, a salvaged speaker, “I’m trying to build a wide-band receiver. Not radio, exactly—something that listens beyond the usual ranges.”

“Beyond, hmm?” She leaned closer, intrigued, “What are you hoping to hear—NASA? Ghosts?”

“Neither…not this time,” Sam said. “Something in between.”

“That’s where all the fun lives.” The woman chuckled, “You’ll need a copper coil, low-resistance, and a grounding plate. Otherwise, you’ll just pick up truckers from Kalamazoo.”

She sketched a quick circuit on a scrap of paper, “Try this. And for heaven’s sake, label your wires before you electrocute curiosity itself.”

As he left, she called after him, “Bring me whatever you find. Science loves sharing.”

Sam walked away, gazing at the sketch of the circuit board she had drawn up for him. There was admiration for her skills and jealousy because he couldn’t. Not yet.

*********

At lunch, the five of them gathered under the same gum tree as usual. Sam was already working on the circuit board for his device.

“The signal last night was bonkers,” he said, waving a screwdriver. “I swear I could hear Tokyo Rose…and they have been off air for some time,” Sam said, while working on his device. “So, I’ve decided to build a sniffer to dig deeper into whatever frequency messed with our phones.”

“Ducks!” Emma began fussing about in her backpack, retrieving a photocopy of an old newspaper article. “I’ve been doing some research about the anomalies. This isn’t the first time this town has experienced it. They fobbed it off as solar interference…even back then, but there could be more to it.”

Lily, quieter than usual, pulled her sketchpad from her bag, “I drew this. Don’t remember doing it.” She showed them the spiral — endless loops tightening toward a centre.

Emma frowned, “It looks mathematical. Like a Fibonacci sequence.”

Sam leaned closer, “Or a signal trace.”

Jake stared at it, uneasy, “I saw something at the lake. There was a flash of intense light, and we lost three minutes.”

“Lost them doing what?” Ben asked, a little too sharply.

Jake hesitated, “Just hangin' out.”

“With Alex,” Ben said, not bothering to hide the bitterness.

“Yeah. With Alex. What’s ya fuckin problem!”

Ben fell silent. He began brooding. Jake scowled at him.

Emma wanted to break the tension, “So, Jake, you finally found your courage! How progressive of you!”

Jake and Ben glared at each other. Silence settled between them. The cicadas tried to fill the space.

**********

Over the next two nights, Crestwood went strange. Streetlights blinked in Morse; dogs howled at the empty sky. The town clock ticked backward for three full minutes before righting itself.

Jake woke at 3 a.m. to find the shadows in his room moving a fraction slower than his body, like old film lagging.

On her back deck, Ms Marlowe watched the horizon, unable to sleep, her Kimono flapping in the breeze, medallion faintly pulsing, “Energy seeks other energy?” she murmured. “Or does it seek its own reflection?”

She tapped her chin, thoughtfully. Her mind was ruminating.

*********

The next day, after school, Ben rode home. His eyes were glassy from lack of sleep. His mind was mush from too much learning. He just wanted to crash.

He found the Ute parked sideways across the driveway, engine still running. His father sat inside, beer bottle in hand, shouting at the footy commentary that wasn’t on.

Ben killed the engine, took the keys, and slipped inside the house. He could smell stale smoke and rage.

“Benny!” his father bellowed. “You got my smokes?”

“Do I have a seven and an eleven stamped to my forehead?” Ben said carefully.

The bottle hit the wall, shattering. Ben didn’t wait for round two. He grabbed his backpack and bolted into the night.

He texted Jake again: Can I crash? No reply.

He knew Jake was probably still with Alex, maybe watching the lights play across the lake again. The thought twisted his stomach.

He kept walking until the glow of a window caught his eye — Lily’s place. She was sitting at her desk, painting by lamplight. He hesitated, then tapped on the window.

She looked up, startled, then smiled faintly and opened it, “Hey. You okay?”

“Hey kiddo! Just… needed some air.” Code for dad’s gone off again.

She stepped back to make space, “Come in.”

The room smelled of turpentine and lavender. Paintings covered the walls — faces dissolving into stars, spirals in shades of blue and silver.

“New obsession?” he asked, nodding at them.

“I keep seeing them. Thought I’d paint them out of my system.” She handed him a mug of Milo. “You look wrecked.”

“I need to keep my overactive mouth shut,” He tried to joke, but it came out flat.

She touched his arm, “You can stay here tonight.”

He looked at her — really looked. Her eyes were green and steady, her hair falling in a pale wave with just a streak of purple.

He managed a shaky grin, “You’re a legend, Lils.”

“Yeah, well, legends need sleep too.” She nodded toward the floor before tossing a doona at him. “Crash there.”

As he settled in, the radio on her dresser flickered to life. A low hum filled the room while Lily’s sketches fluttered on the wall, edges lifting as if breathing.

Ben sat up, “You hear that?”

Lily frowned. “Hear what?”

The hum faded. Only the tick of the clock remained.

*********

When Sam returned to the science lab, Miss Wilkinson was hunched over her laptop, a looping waveform frozen on a screen.

“I ran that sample you gave me,” she said, eyes bright behind smudged glasses. “It isn’t interference—it’s structured. Harmonics nested inside harmonics. Almost like language.”

“So, it’s not random?”

“Nothing truly random lasts this long,” she murmured. “Whatever generated this knows patterns.” She glanced at him, “Promise me you’ll record everything. And if you start hearing it without the device—tell me immediately.”

“You believe me?”

“Belief is for poets. I just follow the data.” She grinned. “Now go before I get sentimental.”

When Sam looked back from the doorway, she was already typing furiously, muttering to herself, “Are you ready… Transcendence awaits…”

**********

Meanwhile, at the lake’s edge, Jake stood beside Alex under a bruised sky. The water mirrored the stars so perfectly that it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. They were so close. Eyes glinting in the dark. Their faces, inches apart.

This was it. The moment he would finally taste Alex. Was it too soon? But this thrumming through his body was filling him with urges. He couldn’t wait.

Jake hesitated, heart pounding, unsure how to lean in or where to put his hands. Everything felt suddenly enormous — the space between them, the sound of his own breathing.

Then Alex moved first, closing the gap with quiet confidence, and pressed his lips to Jake’s.

For a second, the world tilted. Jake felt his soul lift, like he was slipping out of the here and now — floating somewhere brighter, weightless, and entirely alive. Until suddenly Alex got all weird. Conscious of something or someone nearby. Nothing tangible. Just a feeling.

“You ever feel like we’re being watched?” Alex asked, half-laughing.

“Always. From the moment I came out.”

“No, like… bigger than that.”

Before Jake could answer, his phone buzzed — not a call, just static leaking through the speaker. Across the lake, a pale light lifted from the water, hung motionless, then split into three.

Jake’s breath caught, “Fuck! You seeing this?”

Alex nodded, mouth slackened, and eyes bugged out, “Shit! Yeah!”

The lights rose higher, merging into a spiral. The same shape Lily had drawn.

Jake’s heart hammered, “What the hell—”

The air hummed. His vision blurred. And then, for the briefest instant, he thought he saw shapes inside the light — angular, shifting, almost human.

He blinked, and they were gone.

Alex exhaled, “Tell me I’m dreamin.”

Jake reached out to pinch his arm. Alex cried out.

Jake smirked, “Ya not dreamin.”

*********

By Monday morning, the whole town was buzzing. Literally. Phones stuttered; earbuds whispered static when unplugged; even the school’s vending machine played half a bar of some ghostly tune before jamming.

Sam was in his element. He’d turned the lab storeroom into a command centre — wires, batteries, and a salvaged radio spread across the benches. Emma was acting as his reluctant assistant.

Jake and Ben slipped in during break. Lily followed, clutching her sketchpad.

Sam looked up, eyes wild, “You’re just in time for the next great leap in teenage science.”

Emma groaned from the corner, “Or the next great detonation.”

“Details,” Sam said, twisting a dial. “Behold — the Signal Sniffer 3000.”

Through the noise, a pattern emerged — The speaker crackled again, numbers scrolling across a small LED screen, “Look—1-18-5-25-15-21…” Sam frowned, “That’s letters. A equals one. R, eighteen. E, five…” Sam’s voice dropped as he read the decoded numbers, “It says, Are you ready?”

Lily whispered, “It’s a message.”

Before they could react, a new cascade appeared: 20-18-1-14-19-3-5-14-4-5-14-3-5 / 1-23-1-9-20-19.

“Wait! There’s more,” Sam said, swallowing. “Shit! It's saying, Transcendence awaits. That doesn’t sound good.”

Ben looked worried, “Certainly not, Tokyo Rose.”

But no one laughed. The air seemed to tighten.

*********

That afternoon, Jake walked home with Alex, boards under their arms. The air smelled of rain and petrol.

“So your mate’s a radio wizard now?” Alex said.

“Yeah. Sure is! The Merlin of transistor radios. He once tried to perv on NASA.”

Alex grinned, “Ambitious.”

They reached the corner where their streets split. Jake hesitated, “Hey, you wanna hang out some more? Maybe, make out a little. I could use the practice.”

“You don't need practice. You’re a quick learner.” Alex’s smile faltered, “But I can’t tonight. Got a meeting.”

“At AA?”

“No. Smart arse! With my shrink.” He hesitated too. “Tomorrow?”

“Sure.” Jake tried to sound casual, but wanted to know so much more about this shrink. There was more to Alex than he first thought. The boy had dimensions he hadn’t yet discovered.

*********

At Lily’s place, Ben helped her stack canvases against the wall. He was stayed over again. His dad was entertaining a lady friend. It always turned his guts up. She hadn’t asked any further questions, just made 2-minute noodles and pretended the floor space was his by right.

“Thanks,” he said quietly.

She shrugged, “You’re safer here than listening to their beastial ranting.”

"I have headphones for that. I had to get outta there before she got all handsy. I woke to her standing over my bed once...slurring gin-soaked affirmation for my body." Ben said, opening up a little more. "Of course... I copped a backhand to the head when dad found her. It was my fault as usual." He watched her mix paint — cobalt and silver, “Is it always the same pattern?”

"Yeah," She paused, brush hovering, “Though these paintings are not the freakiest thing. I have these dreams where I am standing on a jetty. It’s me as I once was. A boy. His wanting me to come with him…then I wake up.”

"Voulez Vous!" Ben frowned, “That is some creepy déjà vu.”

“Do you miss him?” She asked. “Eli!”

“I need to be honest, kiddo. It took a minute to adjust. We were friends a long time… then you seemed to change…become isolated and withdrawn.” Ben said, nervously, not wanting to upset her. “But…I see it now. You’re more you than you’ve ever been.”

Lily smiled, feeling something tug inside her chest, a feeling beyond just friendship. Outside, thunder rumbled.

*********

Tuesday evening, the storm broke. Jake met Alex at the skate park, rain hammering the half-pipe. They took shelter beneath the ramp, laughing breathlessly. Their wet clothes clinging to their taut bodies. Alex didn’t hesitate. He began to manhandle Jake, his mouth suctioned to his. His tongue exploring his mouth.

Then, Jake’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen. Familiar numbers repeating until it froze.

“Dude, your phone’s possessed,” Alex said.

Lightning flashed. For a second, Alex’s eyes reflected the light, silver-white, almost inhuman. Then normal again.

Jake blinked, “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just… weird headache.” Alex rubbed his temple. “No wait…do you hear that?…I can hear voices.” Jake looked bewildered. Alex quickly changed his tone, “I’m sure it is just the storm messing with me.”

The rain seemed to ease up. The lights along the street flickered. Every sound cut out: rain, cars, breath. Silence so thick it rang.

Then, just as suddenly, everything snapped back. The rain poured again. Jake’s phone time jumped forward three minutes. Why were their dates being interrupted?

Alex whispered, “I feel like something dreadful is going to happen.”

Jake was sure it was some weirdo ass shit yet again. He placed an arm around Alex and pulled the boy into his chest. This seemed to ease Alex’s anxieties for the moment.

**********

On the Saturday, detention was put on the back burner, trips to the past were paused, as Ms Marlowe gathered them together for a debrief, to make sure they were all on the same page about recent events. She moved between the desks, unbothered by the heat. Her crisp linen Edwardian dress should have wilted in the humidity, but it didn’t — not even a crease.

She listened patiently, without comment, as they gave her an update on what they had all been up to, “I had planned for us to travel elsewhere today — another lesson, another time — but matters here are too fragile just now.” Ms Marlowe replied. “So, the interference has a pattern. And patterns have intent. Absolutely fascinating, but does reek of familiarity from another time and place.”

The clock gave a single, deliberate tick — then stopped. The dust motes froze in midair. No one moved. They waited for Ms Marlowe to continue. They were totally focused on her, still as statues.

Their teacher clapped her hands once. The spell broke. The fan stuttered back to life, wheezing out warm air.

"To add to your research," She, unexpectedly, handed Emma a folded page from a science journal — an aerial map of Crestwood, “The observatory on the ridge,” Ms Marlowe said. “Built in the sixties. Do you see the pattern on the old dish array?”

Emma’s brow furrowed, “There is a spiral…like in Lily’s drawings.”

“Exactly,” Ms Marlowe said, her gaze flicked to Lily, lingering a moment. “Patterns repeat until we notice them.” She stopped pacing, “Someone wanted us to notice that is why they painted the pattern onto the dish.”

Jake stepped forward, “Look! Cut the bull shit! Miss, what’s causing all this?”

She smiled — tired, knowing, “Some frequencies are calling cards, Jake. The question is who are they calling to?” She huffed, “This room is far too stuffy. I’ve decided to abandon detention this once. You’re all free to go.”

Then she turned and walked away, leaving them with more questions than answers. Jake groaned. The others sighed. They were no closer to getting to the truth.

*********

That afternoon, Emma convinced them to hike up to the old observatory. The spiral on the dish seemed to connect the old base to current activities, “If the signal can be picked up anywhere, it’s here. Maybe they had the answers?” She scrunched up her nose, “Ducks, aren’t you curious?”

“Hell no!” Jake eyed her, “I just want to snog a boy without interruptions.”

“Some of us aren’t so lucky,” Emma ignored him, “I am curious if this place has records from back then…to that previous event.”

The path was overgrown, full of burrs. The dome building rose out of the trees like a rusted eye. The massive radar dish to one side aimed at the stars.

They all scaled the wire fence and dropped haphazardly to the ground on the other side.

Sam picked the lock of the observatory with his trusty lock-picking device. Never leave home without it, “NASA, hire me already. I am wasted here.”

Inside, the air smelt of dust and ozone. Console panels lined the walls, their dials frozen mid-reading. In one corner stood a chalkboard, the words scrawled in a trembling hand:

ARE YOU READY? WE ARE COMING! TRANSCENDENCE AWAITS.

Lily shivered, “You were right! They did know something.”

“No, ducks! This is recent. Someone else was able to decipher the Morse code.”

They searched the building, finding nothing but tossed around office furniture, hastily opened file cabinets, and remnants of parties that had been had here.

It was Ben who found the trash can of burnt pages. Soggy, cinders, and now home to an array of insects. He found scraps of paper and burnt old images that indicated a government cover-up at some stage. They didn’t have all the facts. They were lost to time.

Jake looked over his shoulder. His eyes bugged out. He snatched a half-cindered image, showing faint streaks of light hovering above the water, “That’s what we saw.” On the back of the photo was a year. 1972. “I guess something really is left behind.”

Emma returned with a wanted poster from over fifty years ago, a clean-cut young boy of about sixteen, in short pants and braces, looking sad, Alby Gossman, “Now this is very interesting. Alby went missing around the same time. He has been lost ever since.” She felt a shiver race up her spine, “Maybe he was taken.”

A sudden bang echoed from the dome above. They froze. Something moved behind the observation slit — a pale shimmer, like a reflection without a source.

“Time to go,” Jake said. No one argued.

Dusk was falling as they made their way down the ridge. They got halfway when headlights found them. Two black SUVs rolled out of the scrub, tyres whispering on gravel. The first stopped sideways, blocking the path. Doors opened in perfect sync.

The two agents who had been cruising the lake and two additional figures stepped out of the vehicles. All in plain suits so ordinary they became threatening by design. No badges. No names.

The woman’s smile was practiced, professional, and cold, “Evening, kids. Shouldn’t you be home studying…biology at least?”

Jake instinctively moved in front of everyone, “Who are you?”

“Maintenance,” one of the men said. “We keep everything ticking over…nicely.”

The woman said, “The anomalies on the lake are classified. People who go poking around tend to disappear. We wouldn’t want that for any of you.”

Jake’s throat went dry, “You can’t threaten us.”

“Threaten? We’re offering advice. For example, Benjamin—does your father still gamble your money away? Drink excessively? Child Services can be unpredictable when a notification crosses their desk.”

Ben froze.

“And Lily,” the woman continued, “Such a sweet girl…but oh so troubled with these rather incorrect thoughts. There are facilities that could help you.”

Lily’s hands balled into fists, “I don’t need correcting.”

“We think you do.” She turned to Sam, “Oh! And what of your grandfather! Such a fascinating history with the union protests in seventy-two. Imagine if we were to reopen those cases.”

Emma stepped forward, trembling but defiant, “You finished?”

“Excuse me?”

“Because I’ve been recording you since you got out of the car.” She raised her phone; the screen glowed red, “Keep talking.”

The woman’s smile thinned, “That was unwise.”

“So is threatening minors,” Emma said. “Section 280 of the Crimes Act, if you want to look it up.”

For a beat, no one moved.

“Run!” Jake yelled.

They bolted down the track, gravel spraying. The agents gave chase—heavy boots, the buzz of radios.

“Left!” Jake shouted, veering toward the lake. Branches tore at their arms. Ben stumbled; Lily caught him. The forest pulsed with that low hum again, as if the earth itself were warning them.

The kids burst into the clearing where the dirt road met the shore—only to find another vehicle waiting.

“They’re everywhere,” Lily gasped.

Then the air thickened—time itself stuttering. The raindrops hung motionless for a heartbeat before reversing course.

Ms Marlowe stepped out from behind a tree, calm as if she’d been expecting this. Her medallion blazed silver.

“That’s enough!”

The agents froze mid-stride, eyes wide. The medallion’s light unfurled like ripples across a pond, touching each of them in turn.

“I must protect the future,” she whispered.

The glow deepened; the sound drained away.

When the world snapped back, the agents were gone—replaced by the distant sound of engines turning over near the ridge. Jake caught a glimpse through the trees: both SUVs idling where they’d first parked, the agents climbing inside, faces blank with confusion.

Ben exhaled. “What did you—”

“I simply erased time. They no longer have any idea why they are stuck on a ridge under the spectre of an abandoned radar dish. They will file their reports and never know your involvement.”

The medallion dimmed, and she walked into the rain.

**********

The wind off Crestwood Lake felt wrong—too cold for spring, too sharp to breathe. The five misfits had returned to collect their bikes and were now heading home, passing the lake. Jake skidded to a halt. The others doing the same behind him.

The lake glowed faintly, as if lit from beneath. The surface wasn’t rippling—it was breathing. A figure stood on the bank.

“Is that Alex?” Jake asked.

Jake dropped his bike and ran.

Alex didn’t turn when Jake reached him. His pupils were huge, reflecting the silver light that seemed to be climbing out of the water.

“Alex, hey—look at me.”

Alex whispered, “They’re calling.”

Suddenly, Sam’s device squealed. He removed it from his pocket just as it erupted into a wail.

Columns of light erupted from the lake—three of them—twisting together like strands of DNA. The air turned viscous; sound bent.

Jake grabbed Alex’s wrist. The frost marks from before flared blue. His vision tunnelled, and suddenly the lake wasn’t a lake—it was sky, and the lights were shapes: angular beings made of motion, folding and unfolding like origami stars. They weren’t hostile. Just curious.

The shapes pressed closer, pulsing not with menace but with something like wonderlust. The pulse became a hum that seemed to deepen, a question forming behind his eyes: Are you ready to become what we became?

Jake tried to speak, but his thoughts scattered like sand. Beside him, Alex was frozen in awe or terror; he couldn’t tell. The light pressed closer, bright as creation.

The world inverted. Jake felt his feet leave the jetty, though he wasn’t falling. The light folded around him, a thousand translucent mirrors. Within each one, he saw a version of himself: laughing, older, crying, running — possibilities spooling like film until he was nothing but light.

We called you! the pulse repeated, threading through his bones. You came! You must be ready!

“We didn’t call you,” Jake tried to answer. “We’re just nosey fuckin kids!”

The light flickered, curious.

“I think…I did. I called them without knowing.” Alex gasped beside him, “I was having a bad day. I wanted to escape my parents. They were hovering…watching me all the fuckin time. I just wanted out for a while. Now…I feel…scared. I don’t want to go.”

Another vibration cut through—a deeper tone, human and familiar, “Enough!”

The visitors recoiled, the spirals collapsing inward.

You can’t have them! They are not yours to take!

Ms Marlowe appeared. Almost luminescent.

You made that mistake once with Alby Mossman; you’re about to make it again. Evolution hasn’t caught up. They are not ready for your kind. Reverse your readings and return to your plane. The beings' glow dimmed, folding back, Do not force my hand… you know what time erasure does.

Alex gasped beside him, “You spoke to them.”

Ms Marlowe’s eyes shone faintly, “I used a language you haven’t learnt yet.”

The air imploded. Jake and Alex were flung backward onto the jetty, coughing. The lights contracted, spiralling tighter until they sank beneath the surface with a hiss like extinguished fire.

Silence. And Ms Marlowe standing on the jetty, nonchalant.

The air became chilly. A mist began to roll in around them. The beings had departed this plane. For now.

Jake and Alex sat on the broken jetty, shaking. Ben crouched beside them, looking worried for them. Lily stared at the lake, “I really wanted to go with them…for just a moment.”

Ms Marlowe looked at her sharply, almost tenderly, “You had dreams?”

“Yeah. I don’t know why.”

“You weren’t the only one,” Ms Marlowe assured her, “What do you think brought Alex Hawkes here? It’s another way for them to make contact with vulnerable children.” She smiled, warmly, giving her a gentle shoulder squeeze, “You still have plenty to do right here in this realm.”

Emma stared at her watch, “We’ve lost three hours.”

Sam cradled his scorched device. The casing was cracked, but the tiny LED still blinked—steady, heartbeat slow.

Ben rubbed his arms. “So… aliens?”

Ms Marlowe wrapped her coat tighter, “I prefer visitors. It’s less presumptuous.” She rose, "Sometimes beings from a different plane find it challenging to break into ours. All the anomalies were their attempts to find an anchor point into this reality."

"They wanted to take Alex like they did with Alby Mossman?"

"It was just the wrong time and place," She sighed, "Unfortunately, dear Alby paid the price for their prematurity." She smiled reassuringly, “But they have gone for now. They'll probably try again in the future until it is the right time."

"For what?"

"Transcendence! Of course! Now, go home. Sleep. You’ll remember what you can bear.”

Their teacher walked into the growing mist, leaving them to their own undertaking.

*********

By dawn, Jake sat on the jetty with Alex lying beside him, still pale but breathing easily. When he stirred, he touched the faint mark on his wrist, “I did this to myself…stupid mistake,” he murmured, glancing up at him. “I hated myself for such a long time…until I finally accepted who I was. This is why I needed a fresh start. Why we come here.”

Across town, Lily woke from another dream—a last lingering dream. For now. Eli was at the jetty, turning toward her and smiling before dissolving into light.

She started to paint until the canvas gleamed silver. The spiral took shape again, this time ringed with tiny human figures reaching upward.

Ben found her painting that afternoon, “That’s us, isn’t it?”

She smiled faintly. “I think so...maybe….someday.”

**********

The next day, the science lab smelled of stale coffee and ozone. Miss Wilkinson was already there, sleeves rolled up, coaxing the projector into obedience.

Sam lingered in the doorway, clutching his battered receiver. The casing was scorched at the edges, a hairline crack running across the dial.

“You’ve been busy,” she said, not looking up.

“It blew out over the weekend,” Sam admitted. “I thought maybe… you could help me fix it again.”

She took the device gently, turning it in her hands, “You’ve pushed it past its limits, that’s for sure. But it’s clever work. Very clever.”

“Thanks.” He hesitated. “When it was picking up something—I mean, it made me feel so alive.”

Miss Wilkinson smiled faintly, “Most discoveries do, for a while.” She began rewiring the coil, her movements quick and sure. “You know, science and mystery have always been cousins, Samuel. Sometimes we just forget they’re related.”

When the final connection clicked into place, the receiver gave a low, even hum—steady and familiar.

“There,” she said, sliding it back across the bench. “A sound you can trust.”

Sam nodded, though he knew the sound had changed. Beneath the hum, if he listened long enough, he could almost hear a whisper—three words looping quietly under the static.

We wait. We come back. Danger must be gone!

He looked up, but Miss Wilkinson was already back at her projector, humming tunelessly, unaware of the echo that pulsed softly between them.

*********

Ms Marlowe had business to tidy up. She summoned Alex Hawkes to her classroom. He was aware of too much.

He looked washed out from his experience. His mind was tumbling over his exposure to the light. His mind buzzing from the frequencies.

Ms Marlowe regarded him for a long moment, “You’re intelligent, Alex. You’ll want to know more now. Curiosity can be dangerous when it wanders into places that it isn't meant to go,” she said softly. “But I can help you forget. It will be as if it never happened.”

He laughed, but the sound faltered when the air thickened. The lights dimmed to a dull violet glow. Her medallion pulsed once, twice.

Alex’s eyes unfocused, “What… what’s happening?”

“Nothing at all,” Ms Marlowe said. “You’re going to wake up with the faint impression of a dream — that’s all. It will be as if the last few weeks had never happened.”

The medallion flared. A shimmer passed between them like heat haze. Alex blinked, swayed, and slumped forward onto the desk.

Ms Marlowe caught him gently, lowering his head onto folded arms, “Sleep, Mr Hawkes. Sometimes, the world is safer when it stays ordinary.”

She straightened, exhaled, and looked toward the empty classroom door where dust motes floated in a thin beam of sunlight. For a heartbeat, her expression was weary — almost regretful.

“Always one,” she murmured. That gets too close.

Outside, the corridor clock ticked forward three minutes.

*********

Jake almost ran into Alex the next morning outside the library, “Hey,” Jake said cautiously. “Alex! How are ya feeling?”

Alex brow furrowed. He looked on quizzically, “Oh! Right! We have science together. I am in such a tizz!” He slapped Jake’s arm, “So you finally plucked up the nerve. Wanna hang sometime?”

Jake was struck dumb for a moment, which was nothing new for Alex. He found it adorable.

Alex looked different — calmer, eyes a little glassy, like he’d just woken from a long nap, “Hey,” Alex said vaguely. “You got any notes from last week? I missed class or something...I have these space cadet moments...especially when I am on a downer.”

“Sure. I can drop them by later.”

Alex blinked, “You’re a lifesaver! I’ll give ya my contacts after school.” Jake didn’t have the heart to tell him that he already did have them. “Well, gotta go, biology awaits…as if I need to know about the female reproductive system.”

Alex wandered away, humming under his breath. For a second, as he passed the window, the light caught his reflection — it flickered, half a second out of sync, then snapped back.

Jake stood there, unease prickling his skin.

Down the hall, Ms Marlowe appeared, carrying a stack of exercise books, “Mr Hawkes seems better, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Jake said slowly. “Like nothing happened.”

Her smile was mild. “Sometimes forgetting is the kindest gift we can give to someone we care about.” Then she walked away, her medallion glinting like a captured star.

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