The Silent Signal
In the coastal town of Greyhaven, where fog clung to the cliffs like a second skin, Mia ran a small electronics shop. She was known for fixing anything—radios, generators, even old satellite phones. But what most didn’t know was her knack for preparing for the worst. Her shop’s backroom held a go-bag with essentials: water purifier, freeze-dried meals, a wind-up flashlight, and a ham radio she’d rigged herself.
One autumn evening, a strange alert buzzed through her radio: a solar flare was expected to hit, potentially frying the grid and communications. The town, reliant on a single cell tower, scoffed at the warning. “It’s just another scare,” they said at the diner. Mia didn’t argue. She went home, checked her Faraday cage—a metal box shielding her electronics—and topped off her fuel cans for the generator.
By midnight, the sky glowed faintly green, and the power cut out. Phones went dead, and the town’s only radio station fell silent. Panic crept in by morning. At the community center, folks gathered, anxious and unprepared. Mia arrived with her ham radio and a notebook of emergency frequencies. “We’ll get through this,” she said, setting up on a folding table.
She tuned into a distant emergency broadcast, relaying news of widespread outages. The flare had knocked out satellites and regional grids. Help wouldn’t come for days. Mia organized the room: those with food shared, others fetched water from a nearby stream using her purifier. She taught a teenager, Lila, how to work the radio, passing on the skill. “Keep listening,” Mia said. “Information’s as good as food.”
Days passed. Mia’s generator powered a fridge for the town’s insulin supply, and her solar charger kept flashlights alive. When a fishing boat radioed for help, stranded offshore, Mia coordinated their rescue with a neighboring town’s coast guard, using her radio’s range. Lila, now adept, relayed messages to other ham operators, building a network of updates.
By the time power flickered back, Greyhaven had a new respect for preparation. Mia didn’t lecture; she just handed out flyers for a preparedness workshop. Lila signed up first, her own go-bag already packed. “You were ready,” Lila said, grinning. “Made us ready, too.”
Mia shrugged, tweaking her radio’s dial. “Storms come in all shapes. You just gotta listen for the signal.”
